Feb. 6, 2021
The Med is a murky, luscious, warm water
pond. Sensual, calm, easy strokes
careen me round La Baie de Fourmis,
body stretched, arm reach by arm reach,
leg kick by leg kick, skin soothed by seaweed,
even jellyfish stings seemed quite benign.
A daily event which delights, invigorates,
burns fat, tones muscle, cools against
the Summer heat, keeps me alive.
Peter Clarke
Clíodhna
06.02.2021 16:51
Lovely! I can just imagine being there!
Anne Gilleran
06.02.2021 15:58
At last something to look forward to😀 I can picture the sun and feel the coolness of the water.
Michael Foley
06.02.2021 15:08
Thank you Peter. I too like to dwell on the positive, especially with spring and a vaccine here. Imagining swimming in the Med is perfect.
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