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If Only, James…


If only, I could see the real look on your face, as I turn onto the street, which is now yours to command.

People from other lands stand proudly by your side, smiling so your unmovable image can be captured with theirs. Still images, now digital, forever hold.

What words would you use today, if you could see the couple kissing under the Bed and Breakfast of Number Seven; smooching, next to the couple lying asleep on Dublin’s pavement floor? The building looks as though it has not changed a day since you left, yet your city is now haunted by the modern ghost.

If only, you could stand down James, to walk these streets in your cast bronze coat, I could tell you how your stream of consciousness now runs through the veins of your country men and women, how students in their hot University Halls, write furiously to decipher the paralysis of your tones. Lost in Marino, borrowing from your genius to cultivate their own.
If only, you could see inside the green and white birds of shame which fly above your head, you would see how people still must flee, the Irish family branch continues to stretch across many a sea, the price of success, never free.
If only, you were here today James, what would you say?

How would you describe your Dublin in Bloom this day?
An Peann
Happy Bloomsday…

Remembering today Mr James Joyce

Prince

‘When I’m writing [songs], some days the pen just goes. I’m not in charge and I’m almost listening outside of it. That’s when I realize that we all have to start looking at life as a gift. It’s like listening to a color and believing that these colors have soul mates and once you get them all together the painting is complete.’

 

Rest Sweet Prince

Dream With You

Wrapping me in your warmth,
I feel good in your embrace.

You make me smile when I see you, sad when we have to say goodbye.

Some may say we have an unhealthy relationship, but we know the longer we spend together the better I look.

You make me happy, and promise to always be in my life. I dream with you.

I think about you throughout the day, counting the hours until we meet again.

When we can steal some hours together in daylight, you always put a smile back on my face and a spring back in my day.

You are my north, my east, my south, my slumbering rest.
My place of comfort, my beautiful bed.

An Peann

When I’m 74

When we were children, she would often sing ‘When I’m 64…’
I can still hear her singing, if I listen closely.

She sits in my kitchen now, watching us live our lives.
She sits in our living room holding her baby Grandson as we watch movies by the fire.

In my sisters kitchen, she holds her arm as the wind blows through their hair.
We talk to her there, we ask her to make things happen for us.
We say ‘please Mam just..’

We talk to her like she is there, and she is.

She is in all our homes, all our hearts.

We shared everything with our Mother, our secrets, our hopes, our fears.
We sang together in her kitchen, not to celebrate any particular occasion, we sang to share the music, the moment. All our girls, and our children, we sang our cares away.

Yesterday she would have been 74 years old not 64. I wish we could hear her sing with us again once more.

Instead, we will keep on
talking to her, singing like her, living for her.

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64….

Happy Birthday Mam. Xxx

An Peann