Rejected Verses 11-20

 11.Italian affair

 

She wasn’t really pretty

She wasn’t ugly either

But heavens was she sexy!

With a smile that sunk some liners!                                                  

 

I was flattered when she noticed

I was reading in the corner

She smiled and invited banter

So I joined her at the counter.

 

Her laugh was free and easy

Her conversation not too earnest

With a delicious Italian accent

That added to her attraction.

 

She wore a sleeveless top

That revealed a sallow skin

When she laughed her hair came falling

Over a handsome honeyed shoulder.

 

We finished a bottle and another

Then decision time with final order

A chaste peck on that shoulder

Then I hailed a taxi for her

Returning home.

 

Alone. 

 

 

 

 

12.Morning sailing

 

I caught a glimpse as she sailed right past me

From my bedroom window in the early morn

Of a sunny August as the sun shone

The ferry slipped through the gap in yellow dunes.

 

Prettier than a Manet picture

Reminiscent of Impressionists

Who captured golden harvests

And blue skies of the ordinary.

 

A ship of hopes and promises

Full of tourists and precious cargo

Making land and heading up to Dublin

With sleepy Wexford turning in her bed.

 

All the stuff we take for granted

Hauled by lorries guzzling diesel

Soaps for babies and for mothers

Winter socks and shoes for soldiers                                                 

 

I look out fondly on the wheat fields

Blowing freely in the western winds

The campsite flags all gaily flutter

Announcing proudly the sunny summer. 

 

 

 

 

13.Impressionist Wexford countryside.

 

Looking to sea to France

Nestling in Wexford fields

Framed with white clouds

That meander then scurry

Across cornflower skies

Blowing kisses from the West.

 

The Atlantic winds blow strongly

As we snuggle under duvets at night

The trees bent over in copses

Witness to untamed nature’s might.

 

The windmills race quickly at Carnsore

Their blades cut air with a whoosh

The lobster boats bob on the ocean

The dogs race carefree towards the waves.          

 

 

 

                                                                                                            

14.Bottoms

God made bottoms

Big and small and bouncy

Soft and hard and flouncy

Here in Tenerife they’re on display

On every beach, throughout the day.

 

The bathing costumes

Come in sizes big and small

But mostly very tiny

Leaving little to imagine

But often lots to fancy

 

But perhaps a law would serve

To prevent the old and saggy

The pockmarked and the baggy

From peeping out from bathing suits

Designed for younger bottoms.

 

We Northern Europeans

Are a grumpy lot

We cover up our bits

We simply have forgot

That we were young one time.

 

So God must give us answer

Why so many figures?

Why so many shapes and sizes?

As many a bathing suit doesn’t cover

All the bits whatsoever. 

 

 

 

 

 

15.Lily’s Lady’s Island

 

Lady’s Island, where we prayed

For little Lil’s delivery

Lady’s Island where the candles

Burn bright at her nativity.

 

Home to flocks of geese

That travel here each year

Home to swans and pilgrims

That seek a little sanctuary.                                                                     

 

A special place that’s lasted

All through the tumbling centuries

Now special in our hopes

For sunny days eternally. 

 

 

 

 

16.Amazing Grace

 

Let's embrace the grace we got

Let's not chuck the luck we found

Amazing luck and gifted grace

Here and now in every place.

 

Undeserved and never won

Free as air and blessed sun

The glass half empty now flows over

Lush the grass and deep the clover.

 

Let's not fight on who made it all

Let's just marvel at the call

Of bird at dawn and dusk

Preferring hope and trust.

 

 

 

 

 

17.Now hope sustains

 

Faith remains and hope sustains

And bravest he who hopes

For hope connects and strengthens

Our believing and our loving

 

Hope gives strength

To bravely fight our lethargy

Hope is the humble glue

Of the whirling galaxies.

 

Hope need not be blind

Need not be servant to man or cult

But raising and transforming

The building blocks of space.

 

Hope is the humble secret joy

Of those who delight in serving

Never happier than end of table

Happy just to be able.                                                                            

 

To breathe and sit

Watching dawn til dusk

Eternally grateful

For just everything.

 

 

18.January 1st 2019. Evening.

 

Windmill turbines whirring winter air

Giving light to Wexford

Against a pastel gray

And whites and pinks and blues

As the sun settles west beyond

The Saltees and far Kilmore.

 

The ebbing tide slaps seaweed

On the darkened craggy rocks

The Rosslare Ferry cruises

To port from foreign lands

Serenely as a swan

On Lady’s Island lake                                                                               

 

Daylight leaves unsurely

Uncertain of departing words

While evening falls

A silence calls in Carnsore Point

Except for gentle lapping on the shore

And the hum of blades

That cleave the heavy air. 

 

 

 

 

 

19.My slipping sanity 

 

My slipping sanity slips, slips away

Like a shower curtain whose rings

Slope mercilessly off the rail

And down the plug hole sinks.

 

I cannot face what I fear

Lot’s wife sheds a tear

She turned and was struck

I want to avoid her luck.

 

It's a road of terror

Whence no tourist has returned

To tell his sad story

To guide our solitary way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

20.Omelettes without breaking eggs.

 

Omelets without breaking eggs

You can have it all in life

He said.

 

Tears without fears

Feasts without fasts

For as long as it lasts.

 

Clear and logical

Avoiding paradoxical

Clear as mud

Truth misunderstood.

                                                                                                            

No contradictions

A life sublime

Untouched by crises

Or the human condition.

 

Mine is the troubled journey.

At times alone - often not

Three times the cross clatters

Three times it rises.

 

Sublime and ridiculous

This human condition

With queries at its heart