Wednesday, 9 November 2022

HOWTH



Standing at the edge of Howth Pier

where the ocean swallows the eye

looking at someone's 

... Life is...

admiring their restraint

and thinking about the Anguilla anguilla

that migrates in mass shoals

about this time of the year

to spawn, lay eggs and die

in the Saragossa Sea


But I'm telling the story backwards

though it is a cyclical one

for  after the Caribbean spawn

and with the help of the Gulf Stream

the baby eels shapeshift 

from leaf-form to snake

from translucent glass to yellow

to European estuaries

and fresh water lakes


before silvering their way back 

in the fullness of time

to Saragossa 

and full circle

and closure 

to the question

of what

...Life is...


Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

Sunday, 30 October 2022

The Txapela



Today I awake to sunlight
filtering through an attic window
from a Basque sky
and don a summer dress
though it is late Autumn
and cross a cobbled street
to a cafe bar
where I order black tea
and cross  my fingers
that it will not be Earl Grey
and will come with milk aparte 
and hopefully cold
and that the mermelada will
be derived from oranges
and that the man wearing 
the black beret
its rim pulled forward
finger thinned to a peak
a txapela in Basque
pronounced chapela
will grace this terrace
with gravitas
to sip his cafe solo
and to remind me 
of the sanctity
of old ways
and send me scuttling
homeward
to retrieve my few
focal as Gaelic
before those "thirty-one 
words for seaweed
whiten on the foreshore"

Copyright 2022 Cathy leonard All rights reserved
See Aidan Mathews poem The Death Of Irish

Thursday, 20 October 2022

Autumn


 

Sometimes a poem just arrives

A path of light strung across a room

by the low lying sun

leaves stirring its verges,

you beyond punching holes in  paper

slamming filing cabinet drawers,

me motionless listening

to a gale shuddering

the front door,

spinning the candy floss

summer striped 

pot plant windmill,

upending the dog bowl

the patio chairs,

sending alarm bells ringing

cat skidding

back indoors,

declaring the advent

of Autumn


Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

Wednesday, 19 October 2022

Why not the real deal?




 As I ricochet off the antique white

walls of this room 

noting yesterday's crossword puzzle

completed with the help of google search

Schmalz-excessive sentimentality

and surely a German word anyway


my eye falls upon the open-

mouthed white ceramic bird

forever caught in full throated ease,

as Keats would have it,

bought in a charity shop 

to set on a mantel


while outside my window

the real deal warble

their matins and vespers 



Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

Thursday, 13 October 2022

Freeze Thought

 


I almost missed the sky this morning

clouds the palette of salmon skin

or the inside of a tongue

the moon receding on the wane

my head in yesterday

and what I should have said

and could have done

and didn't

'til thankfully the dog barked

her snout pointing skyward

dispelling thought

freezing the shutter

panning the eye

upwards


Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

Tuesday, 11 October 2022

Sweet Sixteen

 




A blue cardboard Vanguard 

its paper-thin veneer already 

peeling, expanded accordion style

to hold her summer au-pair wardrobe.


At Charles de Gaulle she's wearing

a cherry-red two piece/frock/jacket affair 

from Alexander's drapery shop at the bottom of The Square.

You'd spot her coming a mile off.


But French teens don't wear suits

she finds. It's all ponchos 

and bell bottoms 

and nonchalance.


The cherry is boxed in accordeon blue

and she acquires the local intonation

even the neckerchief 

tied a la Bardot


but doesn't quite manage

the Gallic shrug, the insouciance,

the Je ne sais quoi...

Thankfully...


Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

Sunday, 9 October 2022

Making Waves and Cocktails


 Out shopping I came across a giant, well 200gm , ball of HayField Rich Colour chunky in a bargain basket. Couldn't resist that.

But the pattern I wanted to try..the Wave Scarf...involves making holes, as well as waves.
Here it is in process. I don't know how long this scarf will take to make.
The pattern says, knit 3 balls-That's 150gm long! Seems like a lot to me.
And I  have a learnt distaste for dropping stitches and making holes deliberately.....
Need to get less uptight maybe...
For pattern details see pic below.

Meanwhile here's a poem about another type of frustration
It helps to know your cocktail terms for this one....

Happy Hour

You preferred a Rusty Nail to a Screwdriver in a Saint Louis Highball Glass
But your special favourite was a Corkscrew in a Double Old- Fashioned.

Shake well and strain into pre-chilled Double, then add a slice of lime.
When you left I didn’t need ice to chill it.

And every Friday night I mix, shake and stir
A jigger of frogs’ legs, thorns of birr

A pony of beetle-juice, dragon-scale light,
A twist of spittle and a dash of spite

Top with a Catherine wheel,
Add a wedge of venom peel

And there you have it
A Screw-U  



Inspired by a painting by Ian Humphreys for the Poets Meet Painters Competition.
There is currently an exhibition of Ian's work in the Buttermarket Kenmare