Facts, Figures, Statistics and Lies.

  I listen to the radio a lot. Discussions, phone-ins, talk shows take up a lot of my ear-space. I also read newspaper articles, many on-line. I read the comments on them, whether it’s directly or on social media. Facebook, Twitter and so on keep me delving into news items and keep me up to…

Sitting on the decking in the Summer sun.

  “What?” “Nothing !” “What are you looking at ?” “I’m just looking at you.” “You’re always looking at me ! What’s wrong ?” ” Nothing’s wrong. I am allowed look at you, you know !” “You’re weird ! ” “Yea ! But I’m your weird ! ” Silence. “I love you !” “Love you…

Life

I was very angry when I wrote this poem many years ago. I had spent a number of hours in the National Gallery. Surrounded by great art in the company of many strangers from home and abroad, cosseted from the reality of the lives other humans endured on the streets of our city. We in…

There is a Madness in the Land.

I found this poem recently which I had written nearly ten years ago. The news was full, it seemed at the time, of horrific stories of violence on the streets and in the homes of our land. I not talking of terrorism or gang related violence, but of individual acts of murder and manslaughter. I…

Post Father’s Day ’17

This isn’t a post about Tarot. It’s a sort of catch up I suppose. I wrote the piece below, which is bracketed and in italics, in late January 2016 shortly after visiting Dad in the nursing home. He died alone there a few days after that visit

Moe’s Café, Tramore, Waterford.

  A chance meeting in that café by the beach, Where we sat and chatted easily as only family can, About life and plans and age and youth and memories we share. ‘Though we don’t meet that often it didn’t really matter, ‘Cos for that time we were together all our lives were one.

TO THE KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO KNOW NOTHING.

Ya can keep yer priests Yer rabbis too. All yer mullahs, imams, Yer atheistical crew.   Politicos and terrorists, Who raise the flag Of sect and country, Leave me to my crag.   You’ve all the answers Expounded with certitude. Vomiting words ‘Times eloquent, ‘times crude.   I for one know nothing With absolute certainty. In…

Thinking out Loud

Does anybody else remember those happy days when reporting on golf was restricted to the British Open and occasionally the Irish Open ? And if they were reported on at all it was always the last it… Source: Thinking out Loud

“Sometimes … I just sits.”

    ” Each day, at round about the same time, the old man would shuffle quietly into the church, bless himself, nod towards the altar and sit into the same place in the same pew right at the back of the church.

New Year “resolutions” part 10

  It begins as a new year and then a few weeks go by and it’s a new month. Before you know it, it’s the beginning of a new season. So here I am now at the beginning of a new week,