J Peter Andrews

 J Peter Andrews

Even though fallen, they are never forgotten

Even though buried, their memories will last 

Unable to grieve because of the plague

Their names are engraved and never are lost.

A De La Salle soul, from leafy Churchtown

Standing tall in the line-out, ahead of us all

Straight spoken and clear, never a doubt

Impatient with cant, calling it out.

J Peter Andrews, a gentleman true,

Ten months later we continue to mourn you

A candle we’ll light with a bright flame 

We’ll raise a full glass to honour your name

Book escapes

 Book escapes

Much of the novels that we read

Are pointless, useless fluff

That will be pulped in record time

Just a pity they got printed. 

Most of the good stuff sleeps the sleep

Of the just on musty shelves

Their faded beauty unrecognized

By the careless market. 

Now and again a book survives  

It’s inner truth shines through

And gives us hope that life is fair

That quality is after all eternal. 

I’ve made a promise that in future

I’ll give the glossy tomes a miss

And spend my money on the classics

That will stand the test of time. 

What my father gave me

 What my father gave me…

Like a well that has run low

It seemed the waters staunched

In my middle years as I wrestled

With the world and his memory. 

And now I’ve remembered -

How could I just forget

The ideals that he shared with me

That became my very floor-plans?

So close to me they stayed unseen

Hidden clearly for all to see

I thought I’d traveled but here I am

Where first the journey started.   

Impatient of the hypocrite

Well researched and sober

His favourite saying I recall

Love the sinner hate the sin.

A belly laugh, a howl of fun

When listening to the weekend Goons

The Sunday lunch pierced with jokes

That left him helpless with silly laughter.

Like many sons I ploughed my furrow

Broad and wide and far from home

Humbled now to discover

We are back where we belong.

Winter Wexford Sun

 Sunday morning strollers

Sunday morning strollers

Walking down the beach

Reflected in the puddles left

By a tide that’s out to sea 

November’s fast declining

As we welcome Christmas in

My shadow is extending

With the yellow sun behind me. 

The cold East wind is biting

It’s time for hats and gloves

But the senses feel a stirring

It’s so good to be alive 

I reach beach-end and turn around

The low sun reflecting in the water

Warms my face and lifts my spirits

A welcome bonus at Autumn end. 

Its a late November Sunday

With Advent round the corner

Today we’ll worship walking

Along God’s lonely shoreline. 

Johnstown Castle Wexford

 Johnstown Castle

The ducks are swimming strongly

Across the upper lake

They’re busy little fellows

They’ve hardly time to take. 

The swans watch over young ones

They look so fierce at strangers

They glide across the lower lake

The castle in the background. 

The peacocks strut their stuff

Extend their plumes in wide abandon

Proud as punch but not too proud

To eat the crumbs from tourist lunch. 

This time of year is heaven

The woodlands change their color

And spread their magic leaves

On gravel paths to charm us. 

The magic scene created

By the low sun over trees

With the garden lake behind

We sit on our wooden chairs

Soaking up late autumn sun

Reflected in the mirrored waters

Of the lake that sends the soul

Into rapture and contentment. 

For the memory of this moment

Will last the days and span the years

And remain a pleasure that the heart

Will treasure in our nursing home. 

Clouds on the horizon

 Morning ferry clouds 

The morning ferry’s sailing

Past my breakfast window

Sliding like a silver swan

When I look up she’s gone. 

Leaving only golden clouds 

Lit up by a rising sun

The sky’s come bright

Alight from a wintry night. 

The ferry’s headed right to left

Arriving at the Harbour

While Rosslare folk are still asleep

Early on a Monday morning. 

The numbers in the hospitals

Are rising day on day

Some won’t change the way they play

They claim it’s too confusing. 

None as deaf as those who fail

To change their selfish lives 

Because their pleasures trump all causes

Their freedoms allow no patient pauses. 

They party hard ‘cause ‘they deserve it’

No care for others or themselves

The innocent who catch the Covid

The nurses of intensive care wards. 

In deadly wars they are the traitors

Consorting with the enemy 

What about their neighbors’ freedom

From death, disease and injury?

Sunday Morning Strollers

 Sunday morning strollers

Sunday morning strollers

Walking down the beach

Reflected in the puddles left

By a tide that’s out to sea 

November’s fast declining

As we welcome Christmas in

My shadow is extending

With the yellow sun behind me. 

The cold East wind is biting

It’s time for hats and gloves

But the senses feel a stirring

It’s so good to be alive 

I reach beach-end and turn around

The low sun reflecting in the water

Warms my face and lifts my spirits

A welcome bonus at Autumn end. 

Its a late November Sunday

With Advent round the corner

Today we’ll worship walking

Along God’s lonely shoreline.