Tag: writings (Page 18 of 63)

Thursday, August 28. 2014.

Dublin has beautiful and varied Architecture.

Bicycles are a dominant means of transportation.

And today we had blue sky! (At least for about 15 minutes.)

(A makeshift C
because sometimes we have to take our C’s as we see them.
Created by cropping off half the opening to a sidewalk trashcan

then rotating it a bit.)

Happy birthday, Kipp!

YOU are our Captain America.

He’s a Rescued Dragon
brought home to live because the little girl
loved him at first sight
when they visited the home for Orphaned Dragons.
The fact that he has a heart condition
just makes her love him more
’cause blue is her favorite color.
He’s a scrappy thing, this Dragon.
though some might call it appreciative.

Eunice was bad to paint
after she’d had a Guinness
Or fourteen.

The night deposits are so Fancy here,
you just want to drop money in
as you pass by.

The tree of Gold, they call it.
(Sculpted in 1991 by Eamonn O’Doharty)

The older she got,
the more she realized
that staying Hidden
was not something imposed on her.
It was her choice.

Missing her empty nest,
in the worst possible way,
Inez put her hands on her hips
and told that boy of hers to clean the garage
so she could park in it again
then go find himself a job.

Then one fine morning,
she opened her window
and tossed out a bucket of red plant
and right about then,
the breeze happened along,
Just like she’d hoped it would . . .

Kirk simply didn’t have room for all that furniture,
so he repurposed it into music.

Because sometimes you need a Little help
after 26 pints.

Molly Malone was a feisty thing,
they say,
selling her fish in the street
to make a living.
Fish tale or no,
I like a self-reliant woman.
(Sculpted by Jeanne Rynhart. Cast by Dublin Art Foundry)

A knockoff Noah’s Ark, perhaps?

SOMEbody in Dublin needs this Otto dog we saw today.
I just know it.
And he needs you, too.
(I call all border collies Otto dogs
cause my granddog is a border collie
named Otto. But you knew that.)

Purple is Nancy’s favorite color
so that makes it my happy color.

As they approached the house,
he said, “I’ve told you umpteen times:
Quit leaving the light on inside.”
Something she heard both literally
and metaphorically.

(This is a DIY R)

Reflections happen,
sometimes when we least
expect them.

Because She loved ravens
as much as he despised them,
She Seriously considered following the directions
on the Sidewalk Sign.

“To Tell you The Truth,”
she said at The end of this day,
“I’m a little Weiry.”

What trip to Dublin is complete
without a little Ulysses?
James Joyce may have exiled himself,
but Dublin still loves and takes credit for him.

He might’ve worn that stupid little hat everywhere he went,
but she was Very glad he didn’t wear these.

EveryWhere We Went today,
We saW alphabets.

A possible case of Xanthocyanopsy?

When he installed those bolts and locks
and mounted the burglar alarm keypad outside the Yellow front door,
she knew her mama had been right all along.

I looked and looked,
but I couldn’t find a Z anywhere.
So, just the Ztory . . .
After another full day in Dublin,
i go to sleep tonight
remembering The Mad Hatter.
Not this one, of course,
the one in Underground Atlanta
where I met the man I’m traveling with some 41 years later.
(Oh, and that Mad Hatter, it wasn’t a haberdashery.)
ZZZZzzzzzz . . .

~~~~~~~

To read from takeoff, go here.
To read tomorrow, go here.

Wednesday, 27 Aug 2014.

Today I spied things you just don’t see everyday . . .

like an elephant in a windowsill

and a gargoyle fiercely guarding a heart

and the Dublin Garden of Remembrance

. . . where there’s more room for flowers
than people.

Today I saw a painting by Vasarely
(Lane, 1968),

something that made me laugh,

and The Engineer going beyond the end of the path.

Today I saw me,
snapping a selfie
in the Ladies Toilet
of the Ireland Museum of Modern Art.

delicious holes that let the light in.
(Or maybe I saw delicious light coming in through holes)

and tree roots that beckoned me to come, sit a spell
and conjure up some stories.

I saw bowls.
beautiful, colorful bowls

that thrill and delight
(once you get close enough and have a look inside)
and make me think of my nephew Drew
and the piece he gave me
called The Improbable Pot.
(They also make me think of people,
but we can talk about that another day.)

~~~~~~~

Today,
in an exhibit at the Ireland Museum of Modern Art,
This stone whispered to me:
Choose me, because I am
old . . .
(tho new to you.)
Because I can be a bullet
or a border
or a doorstop
or a tongue depressor
or a flower
a tombstone
or even a golf ball in a pinch.
I can hold napkins down
and tell a story
and break a window
and hold my worries for me.
I won’t ever tell secrets
or roll away when I say something it doesn’t like
or add inches to my waist
or make rude noises.
Choose me
because I don’t hold grudges
(I have no pocket for them)
or sing off key
or pass judgments.
Pssst. Choose me
because even though I have a tendency to
mirror the temperature of my surroundings,
I don’t ever try to be something I’m not.
That would be silly.(br>
So I chose this rock
for all these compelling reasons and one more:
I chose this rock because it has weathered storms
and hardships
of unimaginable proportions.
It has endured
and survived
and has had absolutely no choice about anything
yet it still doesn’t act like a victim.

~~~~~~~

And once today,
I saw what some people
see all the time.

~~~~~~~

Today I learned that . . .

The original Mr. Guinness signed a 9000 year lease
and had 21 children.
(I think I know why they sell so much ale.)

Jonathan Swift, who had an inner ear infection
diagnosed long after his demise,
wrote Gulliver’s Travels
(here at St. Patrick’s Cathedral)
not for children
but for adults.

the naked body resembles
a face
(Standing Nude by William Scott, 1954).

~~~~~~~

It was another good day
governed not by a to do list
but a see / feel / be list.

~~~~~~~

To start at the beginning of Another Great Adventure 2014 and read yourself current, go here.
To go forward to tomorrow, go here.