I continue to be gratified and delighted by your response to my blogs. It encourages me greatly to continue even when the evil bird on my shoulder tells me to quit while I'm behind. This is a piece that struck me on a very fine day on the Port of St Jean. Read and enjoy.
The previous blogs will stay up for a while or until somebody tells me that they are sick of them.
Keep letting me know what you think as it helps to guide choices for this. Also if you like share the site with others.
St Jean the place of big and small
boats the haunt of rich and not so
business offerings of high end food
pampering former Soviet wealth
maybe even illicit Italian riches
we are here without those credentials
We sat on the newly restored port
sipped rosé and prosecco gazed
on the assets of the boating fraternity
lounged like we owned everything
smoked small cigars were spoiled
as if Europe rich not Irish poor
Peter Clarke
(Image: Dufy from Cocteau Museum Exhibition)
Pearl Marache
16.08.2017 04:26
It's as if we were there!
Tom
15.08.2017 17:50
A lovely piece Peter. Keep it up. Tom
Triona Mc Morrow
15.08.2017 13:36
Lovely poems Peter!
Latest comments
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
Hi Peter,
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
Hugs,
John.x
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.
Echoes of the Old on the New Battlefields
Warrior chiefs of the GAA were early on the field to prepare:
Posts and cones positioned to mark territories
Very young novices came later by parents’ chariots
clad and shod for the ensuing battles
Firstly, paced for speed, resilience and flexibility,
then marked off into opposing teams
Each warrior chief led a young squad of hopefuls
in further exercises to bring them to fit levels
There followed a huddle, an exhortation rant,
responded with clamour of intent and enthusiasm
Skirmishes began, speed across the field, hunt for the ball,
to be delivered as the goal, or to be prevented at all costs
Warrior chiefs egged on, instructed, altered the field of play
the young ’uns complied with fighting spirit
For every fall and hurt spells were cast on the side line
till fitness returned and they were entered back into play
Scores mounted, roars enhanced, casualties grew,
novices flagged and regrouped across the fields
Between bouts came the talks of encouragement
Stay back, pass, pass, pass, keep the pace.
Old hands passing skill onto new palms with dedication,
a gift of generous wisdom gladly given
Peter Clarke
20th April 2024