Tullamore Dew

Tullamore Dew

At home once more in Tullamore,

to breathe fresh hope along the Grand,

a spirit dwells as it did before,

The Dew, a well anointed brand.

Give liquid life, the Clodagh could,

from its Slieve Bloom mountain source,

Uisce beatha aged in barrel wood,

now that proofing took its course.

Remembered days of cooper’s way,

trusted trade tools in their hands,

shaping timbers curve, so they stay,

secure, with strong steel bands.

 

A heritage finds its feet again,

steeped in tradition of the town,

raise a glass in toast to those back then

and the legacy they passed down.

Here in Tullamore, it was said before,

to “Give everyman his Dew”,

how times change on history's floor,

as the ladies love it too.

Tullamore Dew, of blends so true,

finest grains used in the making,

Granted anew, through time it grew,

Pure Class, here for the taking.

Fear the poet not, but weigh his word,

drink the whiskey, its fair Dew,

and time that you may well afford,

savouring the company of a few.

When summer calls

May’s enchantment, strum fine chords,

melodies to gather ‘round,

lifting spirits on air, days hope.

Summer’s watercolours so wishful,

paint optimistic warmth,

expressing such beauty

as heartbeats grace this blessed morning.

A bandstand for great orchestral gaze,

harmonies of synchronised mood,

as nature reigns divine.

Singing notes of laughter and play

find peace

of serendipitous ways on grassy folds,

laying in grateful appreciation.                                                         

Auras, boundless in life’s elating energies

when summer calls,

be present so that heart and soul

absorbs and remembers.

Inner nourishment for balance,

a reservoir for other days to capture.

A legendary dangerous way

A Legendary dangerous way

Legarious ways, when cut of choice was spent,           

on useless veins of flesh and simple thoughts;
a cure was always there as I permitted sin,
while stale and wasted, sat in squalor,
screamed for needle’s hit, within a crazy mind,
along gaping gutters, those dregs that were a life.

Would you ever, in such eyes as these, have sockets sold?
skeletal hung like dripping paint upon a blistered door,
hinged wafer thin, discoloured death paste, passing
upon streets so cold for penetrating finger-trips,
all primed to detonate the very living soul in me.

Then I recalled conversations from a different world
where laughter wasn't scorn, but jollied warmer times,
it spoke of children and the meadow fields of old,
folded letters and some photographs of fresher ways
expressed a scene, of innocence, a fleshy gait of
uncomplicated strut, setting confidence alight to burn.


What of the head that rolled straight off that doll?
giving place to troubled ways and hollowed bones,
bleeding dreams into nightmares bended ways,
conducting courtships dark, setting soul ablaze.

Belong to fashions of addiction, a price is paid,
laying here this wasted shell, hearing words
of trip and fall pity, I didn’t dare listen!
Can you hear the hopeless fading of another call?
The hopscotch games of childhood play on chalks,
were lines formed deep, lonely passage walks
so soiled, of my abandoned city ways, for sure.

Away from those, who dismissed a closer look,
as cobbled life was set in concrete shoes, on feet
unstable for any acquiescent weekly strolls,
an innocent bystander caught in the expectations
many placed upon the shoulders of a gifted child.

Now mind-chains strangling shackles are undone,
flown, way above the heads from where you stand,
What of blame? Go dry your eyes to see some peace,
 and know from here, a dark entombed farewell,
 it was nothing that you did or nothing that you said,
 for a cure was always there, but I permitted sin instead.


copyright (C) MCB        1st April 2012

Upon a love seat, their first summer

 

Upon a love seat, their first summer

Within a high walled cottage garden

on a most splendid summer’s afternoon,

they both sat, deep in conversation,

on matters promising, in mellowed swoon.

Nestled love-seat beneath wisteria,

pleasing senses, sweet like honeyed spoon,

 beside spring brook with gentle waterfall,

soothing airs in nature’s playful  tune.

Such bliss, kissed with lifetime tenderness

set amid abundant flowers festoon,

in close embrace and new found handlings,

warm hearts filled, in their love dressed cocoon.

For as night becomes, shaping silhouettes,

leaving memories ‘neath a dreamy moon,

 these young lovers danced in graceful step

on their first date, in that month of June.

copyright (C) of MCB.

This Grand canal

  

This Grand canal

I walked with Kavanagh in my hand,

along my place, astride our grand,

a voice would speak, I’d understand-

to take my leave, for nothing planned.

~~~

I felt the mood, for through my eyes,

saw lovers kiss, full of the joys,

of swan’s symbolic, girls and boys

would shape a heart, majestic poise.

~~~

Live liquid mirror of great delight-

reflected barge, tread waters might,

while lock fills level within my sight,

on passing through, this minds respite.

~~~

Uncompassed with each dazzled thought,

dishevelled looks, fit old ragged cloth,

fair vagabond, bedecked, not bought,

a sentence for this sage is sought.

 ~~~

A history holds, in well walked miles-

our cultured treasures archived in files,

embodied each through different styles,

strong memories, of tears and smiles.

~~~

Tall-sweeping willows drape the space,

of shaded seating, I oft’ did grace,

broad pleasant steps, it leisured pace,

at peace with life, in its embrace.

~~~

A gentile bow asked, of nature’s blest,

summon summer breeze, upon request,

to fan the day, time for ripples rest-

now pen and poet will begin their quest.

~~~

I inhale the beauty of this day;

and hold my breath, so it will stay,

to fill my soul in every way,

This Grand canal, A sigh, I say.

 copyright MCB

A most beautiful rose

A most beautiful rose

In all that beauty, that of a rose;

To see, its scent, may I propose

A sonnet or some rambling prose;

To compliment it as it grows.

A pink, a yellow, blood red verse,

A turn of phrase to intersperse,

A sanctuary where I immerse;

A once off flower will not rehearse.

Be great; be graceful in your bloom,

Posy soft, petal pantaloom;

Life’s union of young bride and groom.

So vibrant in their special room.

Such dreamy gentle lines that find,

A paint brush; colours intertwined,

An intercourse for creative mind,

Natures gift; thus wined and dined.

All fifty years, each well walked mile,

You still reduce me to this smile-

So radiant, flawless in your style;

Fill fifty more, it’s all worthwhile.

copyright MCB.

This Greystones paradise

This Greystones paradise

I will sit here now to rest a while;

Wrap this Greystones blanket round me,

Of soothing views and a comfort smile,

For the heart; some time to soar free

Make drunk each fibre of my being,

With all that is your Wicklow way,

Sometimes surreal in what I’m seeing,

A refreshing feel from surf and spray

I’ll take the walk along this beach,

‘Wet lip’ the salt that satisfies me,

And pick a pebble within my reach,

Go throw a wish, ‘whatever may be’

I want the dream to call here home,

For in no other place I long to stay,

Such peace and quiet, I’d never roam

From paradise where I am today

Now sitting here at sea view setting

This blanket real that comforts me,

While time passes, though not forgetting,

Now home is Greystones by the sea.


copyright MCB.