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Irish Mosaic
Rolling green hills blanketed in mist
Beauty so rare created only by God’s hand
As dawns first light the earth has kissed
Awakening the sights and sounds of a land
Where dwells a people of such different culture
With strange quirks they’ve managed through ages to nurture
Misty mornings down narrow lanes
Winding roads lined with majestic old trees
Rain falling softly on window panes
These are the images one frequently sees
In this land that has so much beauty to show
If you know where to look, know where to go
Like a banshee wails the wind through the cold
Across hills and moors, fields and meadows
Tiny green leprechauns dance ‘round pots of gold
Found at the end of bright colored rainbows
These are the myths and the legends of
Eire
Land with a history so sad and so dire
Old men in caps on bikes still ride
Peddling through villages neat
Stopping for a pint of black Irish pride
In pubs lit with fires that are blazing with peat
This is the way they’ve been taught from of old
Where friendships abound and stories are told
Bold bhodrans drumming, melancholy flutes playing
Haunting music stirring the soul so deep
Feet tapping and dancers swaying
The Celtic Song is
Ireland’s
beat
A sound to which one cannot sit down
Where your hands and your feet find a will of their own
Painted doors line the Georgian way
In Dublin’s fair city where old now meets new
And sweet Molly’s wares of yesterday
Are forever entombed in a bronzen hue
If you listen closely you can hear her ode
Of cockles and muscles, alive, alive O
Much of these Irish sights and sounds
Are not really seen in the daily grind
Often this romance can only be found
In the silent dreams of my mind
Where Ireland to me is by far the best
In these my times of quiet rest
Blame The Moon
Your fingers caress my moonlit silhouette
And gently your kisses brush my neck
Softly you touch my skin
Oh baby if this be sin
Then I’ll blame it on the moon
This sweet abandoned passion
The dish running away with the spoon
I’ll blame the moon
Touch me every night, it feels so right
Your body next to mine – entwined
I feel your hand upon my back
You have the knack to make me feel so good
As moonlight falls across the room
I’ll blame it on the moon
As your hands caress my silhouette
And your kisses brush my neck
I feel you gently touch my skin
And I know if this is sin
Then I know I must confess that
I’ll blame the moon
This sweet abandoned passion
The dish running away with the spoon
I’ll blame the moon
Fragaria Ananassa
Soft heart shaped flesh
Make my watering mouth sigh
Love your fat dimpled thighs
Tender, so tender, you easily bruise
Perfectly red
Lying exposed in your rich earthy bed
Watercolor object of the artist’s brush
Lush
Want to hold
Need to touch
Ovarian flower
Wrap my lips firmly round your dark ruby shape
Salivate
Bathe you in cream
Preserve you
Juicy
Succulent
How my lips desire your luscious, plump form
Fragaria Ananassa
What a glorious sight
Odorous fruit
My strawberry delight
Poisoned Apple
Your cheeks were the last thing
Adam and Eve’s lips touched
Before innocence fell from the earth
Mischief
since that moment in time
consistently follows your name
Did Snow White taste your poisoned flesh
when the witch cackled in her ears?
And does William’s story Tell us far more
when looking beyond the disguise?
Did the same arrow that split your core
kill the governor who ordered your demise?
Mischief surrounds your appellation
O apple of discord
Is this why naughty boys apple-pie beds
and take delight in upsetting the applecart?
An apple a day
keeps the doctor away
Your feeble attempt at redemption?
The Mariner’s Wharf
Bright coloured hulls
A myriad of names
Nauticat, Ventura, The Mistress, Calypso
Bobbing lazily in the busy bay
Masts stand tall
Nets piled high
Expectant
Soon will be teaming with fish
Slippery black seals glide through waters deep
Entertainment of the day
Like black hounds of the sea
They follow the trawler
Watching
Waiting
For a meal to come their way
Seagulls squawk
Fishermen work
The daily routine of the mariner’s wharf
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