red admiral

Red admiral

 

I opened the door and you almost hit me as you flew by,

Flapping your wings like it was too hard to keep a straight line,

Having passed me you landed on my front room chair,

As you rested a tear dropped from my left eye,

Yet somehow my mind said don’t worry all would be fine,

Then the phone rang and my thoughts were clear,

 

He’s gone the caller said have you heard?

And I looked and answered no he is still here at rest,

A bewildered voice asked “are you alright”

Fine I said staring at you there as you rested unnerved,

As you opened your wings and looked your very best,

As if to fly again using all of your might,

 

I did it many times set you on your own path,

Held your wings gently and set you free,

Watched you as you moved awkwardly finding your way,

Saddened yet delighted mourned your aftermath,

Knowing once you left never again would I see?

Your beautiful wings shared and on display,

 

“Did you hear me he’s gone he died?”

The caller wept from the other end of the line,

The silence was deafening right then on the phone,

With no effort you flapped your wings as I tried,

To hold back the tears praying all would be fine,

Without help freedom was yours as you flew off alone.

 

The door is still open on sunny days,

I hope you will call again as you did that morning,

The second you landed I knew you were free,

I needed no phone to shock me into a daze,

Your life forever more transforming,

Like the butterfly short lived beautiful to me.

For a nephew much loved by all who knew him:

attended the funeral service of Desmond o Grady Saturday sad loss to poetry and those of us who try .

Desmond o Grady

1935 2014 RIP

 

You shone a light on poetry in a city that had none,

As you set out across the globe to share your word,

From a boarding school in limerick learning was fun,

Across the world your poetry was heard,

 

Always with a wry smile knowing all who listened,

Would Basque in all you had to say,

Never forgetting your home where poetry you christened,

And a place where your heart would always stay,

 

Having done with traveling and teaching, to a poet’s life,

Retiring to a cottage near all you held dear,

Writing of past lives of love happiness and strife,

Places lived where skies were so clear,

 

Gathering years, age followed as youth faded,

Collections of poetry sitting on libraries, shelved,

Your poetry shouts read me unaided,

Thought provoking from your mind where you delved,

 

Your last journey finally taken this day,

No suitcase packed just pen in hand,

Desmond o Grady never afraid to have his say,

No finer poet or teacher will hereafter stand.

 

 

Christy o Donnell

Just my way of saying RIP