Water

LUNA RUBY

LUNA RUBY

Patrick arrived in Dublin hours before his mother finished work at the Guinness factory so he had time to spare and after parking his car, he set out to buy her a gift. He preferred back street shops so he walked away from the city centre and eventually found a junk shop with antique jewellery on display.

A wizened Chinese woman welcomed him in with a bow and followed him as he looked around. Some of the items had an eastern influence but most of the things were unusual objects found in Ireland.  He paused by an opium pipe before moving on to some jade jewellery in an ornate cabinet and took a long time looking.

‘More jewellery downstairs. You like look?’ She drew back a curtain with a narrow stairway behind it. ‘Nice gifts for your girlfriend. Good quality.’

She went ahead and tugged at his sleeve on her way past so, intrigued already from what he’d seen so far, he let her lead him down to the basement.

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Autumn’s Shroud

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Be Bold

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I am a chrysalis of

I am

abounded by a dream

surrounded by a thistle

astounded 

by a vision

given

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an occupant

inquisitor

awaiting

a promised time

with indecision

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© Garth Meaney 1/11/2015 All rights reserved
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Like a Falling Stone

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before me slides the sky

like a veil’s passing

between the dark

illumined jewels

soft in the velvet void

hidden by the light

of the sun

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 weightlessness descending

 density suspended

up ended

revolving

in its dizzy space

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© Garth Meaney 23 October 2015

All rights reserved

 

 

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Give Me Vision

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after the tide receded

he sometimes took my hand

to lead me

to the wet shore

where the stranded sea-life lay

too late to escape with the sea

but hidden

– o –

I was small and he was old

and worn by war

not beaten

but filled still with life

lifting the flatter rocks

for puny me,

the portals

to another world erupting,

with teeming life,

crawling and tiny,

some larger,

some wonderful finds

creatures caught in a snooze,

every one rushing for cover

– o –

we plundered this underworld

with greedy eyes

slippery, gleaming and wet

my retinas printed with motion

– o –

he was deep this man

catching my eye

with a glance

plastered to the moment

for safe keeping

a signal for later

– o –

and the image recurred

as snapshots do, unbidden

demanding a relationship

with the present

urging me on to consider

the underbelly

of this apparent image

and stabbing the breast with a blast

of raw vision

searching the depths beneath

– o –

there in this long ago

and jagged shore

my mentor mage

was writing in code

his secrets

lifting the lids

on a poem of stone

after stone

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© Garth Meaney 21 October 2015

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Spinning Gene Pools

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In nature’s mould in seething seas

in orbits set by fine degrees

describing circles wide and high

Its course through black eternal sky

a measurement of prophesies

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With effortless revolving ease 

the fulcrum spins with energies

to fabricate and modify

in nature’s mould

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The Garden sown with expertise

unique with species It conceives

the conscious mind can never spy 

the ghost unseen goes gliding by

enacting with its certainties

in nature’s mould

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Meanings Lost in Time #6

Two meanings this week

#1 – Hands Down (as in ‘I won hands down.’)

There is a good chance that this saying traveled to India with the imposition of the British Raj and their love of horse racing. Or maybe India had horse races before the British Devils colonised their country to plunder the wealth and strut about in a superior way.

Why Hands Down?

Well – when a jockey is racing, the adopted posture is the one best suited for balancing weight. Body raised from the saddle by feet firmly planted in the stirrups allowing the bent knees to act like shock absorbers. The body crouched so the rider’s head is quite close to the horse’s ears, perhaps to urge him on with whispered commands. Hold that dynamic image and imagine the frenzy of hoof  pounding across the turf at speed, jockey’s elbows in.

When the leader realizes he’s way ahead of the pack and about to win, he sometimes settled back into the saddle to sit up straight, released the reins and let his hands hang down in a gesture of devil-may-care bravado.

Winning hands down.

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#2 – Hobson’s Choice

It’s unlikely that anyone outside of the British Isles will know about this old saying from the days before trains but if ever you come to UK you will know what the locals are talking about whenever they mention it.

Horse drawn coaches were the way to get around the cities and for the long haul to other cities unless you were able to saddle up your own horse. Coaches gave protection from the weather as an obvious advantage but they were slow and uncomfortable and the state of the roads and the lack of heat didn’t enhance the travel experience.

For those in more of a hurry there were relay stations offering a change of horse for the rider intent on speed. I would guess that a horse at full gallop could last for about 25 miles before needing a rest so an enterprising gentleman call Hobson set up these relays all over UK.

No doubt there were leisure facilities and accommodation at each one so the rider could stretch his legs and generally enjoy himself with whatever was on offer unless he was passing through and  wanted just a change of horse.

This form of travel was mainly used by men so there would have been a tavern and other temptations (naughty ones probably) to break the journey and empty their pockets.

The rider may have enjoyed the speed and energy of a two year old stallion for the first part of his journey but when he was ready to travel on, the horse offered could have been a five year old nag.

Rules were strict: The horse at the gate was the horse you got. No picking and choosing so Hobson’s choice became an expression for no choice at all.

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Sir Oddly, Spikey the Girl-Fish, Gruesome Child

Day #4 of the Writing 201 Poetry course

Limericks based on a theme of Difference x 3

#1 – Sir Oddly

one eye too many forked tongue

walk like I’m stepping up rungs

I do have two kidneys

one lung and two feet

I’m handsome and liked by the ladies

#2 – Spikey the Hake

I’m a fish with no spines in a shoal

so it’s tricky for me to blend in

they see that I’m different

don’t leave me no bones

I’m lonely and spineless, no sistas

#3 – Gruesome Child

have you seen war dad, he had

have you seen bullets go by

I have son I have

(and a tear did flow)

bodies and bits in the sky

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play station games re-enacted

the boy had a gleam in his eye

was there blood dad and gristle

bones flying high

don’t ask me again, it gives me a pain

join up and give it a try

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Sun Sets on the Lake

Day#3 of the Poetry course

Subject: skin, written using free verse

An Elegy

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sun sets on the lake

pour the red gold on

to the polished skin of the bright mirror

send it to the moon

with my shadow

set it on the surface of the sea

as a signal for no longer with us

can no longer be

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The Siren is Gillian

Day #2 of the WordPress Blogging 201: Poetry course

Assignment: An acrostic poem. This is an old form used mostly as a love poem where the first letter of each line spells a word. An addition to this was a simile as a device to be included in the prose:

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The Siren is Gillian

Been beside me for some time

Ever the song on the shore when I was drawn

Like the sea pulled by the moon

Orbiting seasons of lovers then babes

Vesting the crowning of their babes

Effervescing from us

Describing our circle of life with love

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