Poem Book by John Melia

GROWING TO APPRECIATE WHAT IS AT MY DOORSTEP

A COLLECTION OF POEMS

BY JOHN MELIA, KILLORGLIN, CO. KERRY.

CONTENTS

PAGE 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

TITLE

FOREWORD Puck Fair Pandemic My Daily Glass of Milk Air Spectacular Out In Our back Garden Shedding A Tear Lane Swimming Feeding The Birds My Take On Killorglin In The Sixties Looking A Little Deeper At A Tree Corona June Bank Holiday Weekend Appreciate One day At A Time Nothing Is As It May Seem My First School Tour The Wisdom Of Life The 1969 General Election Reflection (On passing of Canon Fleming) The Back Lawn Skelligs Day Swimming Up The Bank My Concertina Stargazing 'Aintree' An August Evening in Ardmoneil Love Conquers Death Summer Evening Cycle The Corpus Christi Procession The First day of Summer Your Turn Will Come Would You Like To dance A Thought Prompted BY Spring My Furry Long Eared Friend Creamy Doughnuts and Muppet Show Delight(Carnegie 1970s) Running Mascara

DATE 26-Jun-20 17-May-20 14-Jun-20 9-Jun-20 7-Jun-20 6-Jun-20 3-Jun-20 2-Jun-20 30-May-20 28-May-20 23-May-20 18-May-20 17-May-20 15-May-20 13-May-20 8-May-20 2-May-20 2-May-20 29-Apr-20 13-Apr-19 8-Aug-20 27-Aug-10 13-May-10 30-Jun-09 15-Jun-09 5-Jun-09 29-May-09 24-May-09 7-May-09 10-Aug-08 3-Aug-08 30-Jun-08

FOREWORD Poetry is defined as ‘a literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm’.

I did English as a subject at school from 1965 up until 1978 with poetry as a major part of the subject from 1973 to 1978. Catherine O’Connell was my English teacher in most of my years as a pupil in the Carnegie in Killorglin. She made a good effort to teach the curriculum in operation at the time. However, I feel I struggled to write essays and learn off poetry. I also found it very difficult to give my opinion on poetry written by somebody else.

In 2007 my brother Kevin sadly passed away. I was left questioning myself as to why I did not shed a tear at the time. Seven months later I felt the need to write a few lines about my feelings for him as a form of closure and a few members of my family and friends liked what I had written. I wasn’t dictated by any rules or guidelines as I wrote. I just wanted to be pleased with the final outcome. Over time I began to become more aware of how I presented my work. Layout and dividing it into verses became more important.

The experience showed me the huge personal value of writing down how you feel about things as a way of helping oneself to get some peace of mind whenever one comes upon personal trauma of any kind. But more importantly it allowed my own personal style to develop.

Some of my early poems are very personal to me in dealing with every day obstacles in life which we all will go through, so I have left them out, but it was a great exercise for me in the psychological benefits I received from taking the time to write down how I felt. I would recommend that anyone going through personal trauma should do a similar exercise. After a while I began to show what I had written to Monica my best friend and she began to point out any spelling mistakes and more importantly give me encouragement to keep writing. I will be eternally grateful for her help.

In 2015 my remaining brother Ivor sadly succumbed to cancer. I pray his soul is at peace.

The recent upheaval of all our lives gave me some new free time to appreciate the beauty that is all around us.

Our headmaster, the late Mr. Joe O’Dwyer once said to us in class ‘You walk through life with your head down without taking any notice of what is all around you’.

Those few words have always stayed with me. I am privileged to be living in a town as beautiful as Killorglin I hope reading some of my work may inspire you to pause and take a little more notice of ‘life’ on your doorstep.

John Melia

9th July 2020

PUCK FAIR PANDEMIC At the beginning of August in the mid nineteen sixties adrenalin would be growing, For three days and nights Killorglin would become a carnival with its pubs overflowing.

Birds Bazar would be coming to town in the next few days to our local fair field, Families would travel from all parts of south Kerry with excitement unconcealed.

Big trucks would begin to arrive packed with strange looking machinery early in the morning, Hired hands would be setting up all the amusements before the day was dawning.

Local school children would gather to soak up the atmosphere of seeing the fun fair unfold, Delighted to feel part of the huge occasion we would jump at doing whatever we were told.

Large caravan vehicles would line the outer perimeter where the families and workers would reside, While the Market Road end was always the location for constructing the arena for the bumper ride.

Being a venue covered in grass back then meant setting everything up took more time, When you are young and curious it just meant more time to watch in the summer sunshine.

The fun fair owners who also visited Killarney and Tralee had native links with our town, Adding to their arrival each year being taken for granted and Puck Fair being of major renown.

Children mixed in an unhindered way back then as life seemed to go at a slower pace, Playing games with the Bird grandchildren amidst all that was going on never seemed to be out of place.

Adults from the town would be employed for a week each year to operate a certain stall, While others would be home from London for the summer to be at their beck and call.

Taking about two days to erect every attraction the whole process was a novelty to us at our age, Studying how the slide, chair-o-planes and other rides went up was in fact educational at that stage.

Living in the centre of Killorglin had huge advantages as Gathering Day finally arrived, Watching throngs of people reunite, sing, dance and act so merrily kept me mesmerised.

Me and my school pals would explore every stall in the town searching for a puck fair surprise, Everyone else roaming slowly through the vast crowds was also doing so with keen eyes.

Murphy’s Electrical Shop would convert each year to a take away restaurant for Puck’s three days, Being friends and neighbours with Rose, Miriam and Emir at the time in my mind stays.

Their Uncles and Aunts would be down from Dublin and Cork to help out with the operation, Meanwhile their children, I and my brother and sisters would look on in fascination.

My father was a Garda at the time so this was a big week for the local station, Most of their duties involved dealing with people who got carried away with their jubilation.

We had some perks like watching the goat being crowned from the window on the barrack’s second floor, We really were so fortunate then as now families do not have their home there anymore.

When he was off he would take our family out for some rides in Birds Bazaar, We would climb the stairs to the top of the slide, enjoy the view and almost see a star.

Sitting on a special mat we would begin the rotating fast journey to the ground below, Sliding round the outside at a speed so fast that I felt like a skier in the snow.

Nineteen sixty eight was a special year as I was picked to be on the Puck Fair lorry guarding the goat, Dressed up as Fianna warriors carrying spears standing on the four corners of the float.

Escorting him through the hundreds of people waving as they listened to Noel Tuohy and his band sing, Until we reached the stand and watched on with all the festival goers as he was crowned king.

Being left up a little later for the festive occasion eventually it was time for nightly rest, But I can still recall seeing out our bedroom window grown-ups going to dances looking at their best.

Showbands would be playing until three in the morning in the C.Y.M.S and Oisin ballrooms, Revellers would be cuing from nine pm to hear big stars play all the best tunes. .Over half a century later I smile with joy as I recall the wonderful festival it was to all who came to the fair, For three days everyone let go of themselves and soaked up the unique atmosphere that was there.

Two thousand and twenty will be the first time in over one hundred years without our annual celebration, Please God this horrible virus will soon pass and we will all gather again to witness the goat’s coronation.

John Melia

26th June 2020

MY DAILY GLASS OF MILK Lately I have taken particular notice of how my daily glass of milk has become so nice, Many of us take it for granted as just another part of our diet irrespective of price.

Today I decided to investigate what part of Ireland the cows that produce such tasty produce abide.

Examining the carton in every way possible it was clear the area was not identified.

Produced by cows that graze in their natural habitat for the majority of the year, Where plentiful rainfall and fertile soil give the best conditions in the northern hemisphere.

Sold in surgically sterile tetra-pak cartons which can keep fresh for up to fourteen days, Makes most of us accustomed to drinking a product that is fresh almost always.

Go shopping at the local store today and you can be puzzled by the vast array, Regular, skimmed, semi-skimmed, high-energy, lactose free are some of the brands on display.

Stored in large attractive cooler display cabinets in prominent locations in most supermarkets, Customers who now are used to being offered a much greater choice are their targets.

Suddenly I began to consider the route I walk every second day in the local countryside, Passing a large dairy farm on my way now I became more aware of its value as a tracing guide.

From being led to the milking parlour at six in the morning to ruminating so peacefully late at night, My eyes being opened by the complexity of the whole milking process has been a reassuring sight.

Sleeping for as little as an hour a day after milking they are fed rations before going out to grass, For the remainder of the day they rest, chew the cud, pasture and let off some gas.

Farmers of the moment are all trained to use the land they possess to their greatest advantage, Cows are directed to rotating acres of land with the sole purpose being to correctly farm-manage.

Memories began to come back of visiting Granda’s farm in Clonboo, Galway fifty years ago, Life seemed so idyllic then with very little machinery and the pace of work so slow.

Helping our Nana as she milked their sole cow on a tri-pod stool out in the small farm shed, Or joining my uncles making cocks of hay with pikes and a winder as they maintained the farmstead.

Closer to home back then when we moved to our new home in Sunhill we would see a daily parade, When the farmers would go to the creamery with their tanks of milk in a donkey and cart cavalcade.

Some were very friendly and often left us sit up beside them for a free ride during the summer, Roads were so much quieter and safer in those days as I reminisce with awe and wonder.

Many still remember the first electric milk floats which silently carried the bottles to the door, Rising at two am the milkman delivered in the city where the bigger shops he could underscore.

Some will recall with delight being woken at dawn by the sound of the milk bottle clink, Or putting out the empties the night before and wake up the next morning with a fresh drink.

History recalls that as early as three thousand BC milk products were being produced, Around that time items like butter milk, butter cheese and curd were being introduced.

High Queen of Ireland Queen Maeve was actually killed by a cheese tang fired from a sling, Proof that even simple every day dairy products may also have a sting.

Back at the current times the intricacy of dairy products has become even more complicated, With a glass of milk producing three times the green-house gases of plant based is it fated.

Thankfully research is hoping to change the diets of cows to cause less damage to us all, For farmers of the future facing major change we hope a downturn will not befall.

John Melia 17th June 2020

AIR SPECTACULAR OUT IN OUR BACK GARDEN Winding up an evening of doing some work in my home-office in the second week of June, I gazed out the front to admire the sun fading on what turned out to be a pleasant afternoon.

Going through our hall into our kitchen and living room at the back of our home, Suddenly I was met by about thirty birds putting on an air display in their own private aerodrome.

Our back garden consists of a stone patio, lawn and some shrubs surrounded by tall palm trees, With a bird box and feeder on a stand which for the past weeks has been used by them with ease.

Lately I have noticed that they are very plentiful this year so I have to refill much more frequently, Racking my head for a reason I put it down to the new bird feed which I had purchased recently.

Standing still without putting on the light I began to feel I was a witness to nature’s treat, Observing so many of our winged friends flying so eloquently at my feet.

Spotting European green finches, coal tilts and common chaffinches all roaming together, Joined by song thrushes, Eurasian blue tits and dunnocks making the most of the beautiful weather.

Displaying their ability to accelerate and stop so efficiently in such artistic fashion, Clearly shown by skimming through the air at such speed with such intention and passion.

Flying in formation from the high point of the trees they would make a spiral dive, Swooping in from all directions to the flower boxes and the bird box on the patio they would arrive.

Akin to a summer jamboree organised by all the local fledgling, Showing off or just demonstrating vital skills to all the young chicks nestling, Might they be having their own country fair held in a new venue out our back, Or was it just an organised training camp showing their offspring how to go on the attack.

As I watched one bird like a Sikorsky helicopter just hovered as he flickered his wings, Defying scientific explanation with their actions at this moment they were kings.

For a second I thought I was watching ‘Pearl Harbour’ with light aircraft descending in such numbers, Like skilled pilots competing with gravity to carry out such wonders.

Quickly grabbing the nuts with their beak they swallow it whole before gliding away, Sharing the food with their young while being careful that they do not themselves become prey.

Their nests are deep within the foliage deliberately hidden from human view, Where they may use digestion tracts to prepare feed for their young by the process of pre-chew.

Known to play when they are young to develop their mobility and feeding skills, Explains why in such ideal circumstances they were going to such lengths to use their bills.

Grabbing each other’s beak or shoving them in a jousting type of way, Performed so effortlessly and captivatingly it could almost be called aerial ballet.

Some of the smaller finches seemed to be playing hide and seek amidst the wooden partitions, Creeping through the air vents as they were constantly changing their positions.

Others would rest on the stone bird bath beside our back-garden flower bed, Which lay at the dark red steps just at the end of the garden shed.

Fifteen minutes of aeronautical entertainment passed by me so quickly, How fortunate and rejuvenated I felt at seeing so many simultaneously move so briskly.

Simple unrehearsed occurrences happen each day all around us, In such challenging times perhaps they deserve greater fuss.

John Melia 14th June 2020

SHEDDING A TEAR Sadly I have experienced the loss of two members of my family during my life so far, All I can do now is think of them at some point every day and wonder where they are.

Saying a personal prayer that their souls are at peace is my way of drawing closure, While hoping that, allowing for the heart-break it has caused, Mam and Dad have found composure.

One thing has always disturbed me as I reflect back on such emotional times, Missing them so much as every day goes by I still find it difficult to come up with answer lines.

Witnessing the grief of my parents, siblings, and the general public who expressed sympathy, Makes me ponder on and wonder often why I was feeling so differently.

Why did I not cry as I went through the process of saying farewell to two very close brothers, Carrying out all the duties that loved ones were expected to do was I different from others.

Guilt began to raise its ugly head as I searched for reasons to make sense of my situation, Trying to overcome such anxiety made me investigate meditation.

Becoming aware that we all react individually when trying to face a challenge so overwhelming, Alarm bells were warning me that if I was not careful such a negative impact could be distressing.

Realising that there was no right or wrong way to mitigate sadness so profound, Left me deciding to be patient and hoping that over time I would come round.

Learning that time is a healer and that we grow from occurrences in our past, Gave me some confidence that by facing your fears head on relief would come at last.

Reading relevant articles and using ‘Google’ online for inspiration, Acquiring as much skill and knowledge as I could absorb to shorten its duration My health did not seem to be affected and I seemed to be still thinking straight, Daily appreciation for being given a second chance with life without doubt boosted my faith.

Making the best of my standing in life and making the most of every day, Contributed by feelings of anger, denial or depression allay.

Valuing how lucky I was to be able to get out of bed and another day begin, Gave me the motivation to be more positive and not keep worries within.

Ensuring I kept fit by trying to maintain some daily intensive exercise, Looking back at the end of each day and deciding what really do I need to prioritise.

Maintaining an appropriate balance between my work and my play, Gave me you some financial security and kept me from going astray.

Living within my means and developing a saving mentality.

Steered my ship on its journey in dealing with reality.

Getting rest at the right times have also been a factor in keeping me strong, Mentally I stay healthy with my concertina by playing a jig, reel, polka or slow song.

Of late I have taken to saying the rosary almost every day before going to sleep.

Knowing that it relaxes and any destresses me and ensures my snooze will be deep, Blessed to have been lucky enough to find a soul-mate for life to share, Makes it easier to overcome obstacles by knowing you have a friend who is there to care.

Thanking God as frequently as I can for having loved ones who were and are so dear, I have come to understand at the end of the day is my way to shed a tear.

John Melia 9th June 2020

LANE-SWIMMING Going to bed last night I noticed that our small toilet needed a clean, We have tried to become a bit stricter about this to keep with covid-19 hygiene.

Usually I use Power Force Toilet Gel as it always does a good job, But lately due to difficulty with opening I use bleach while also saving a few bob.

Rising around seven on Sunday morning I realised I had some work to finish off, Using the toilet brush to kill any germs suddenly the strong odour caused me to cough.

Instantly thoughts of the swimming pool in Corrib Great Southern Hotel Galway came into mind, Our first holiday not to stay with Nana and Granda and where every evening we dined.

Chlorine in the water in public baths is essential to stop any infection spreading, Some parents get so worked up about catching a bug that they are always dreading.

During the eighties I worked as a trainee accountant in Tralee out in Clash, At our lunch hour every day I would grab my gear and make a dash.

The sports complex was close by so I went for a swim every day, Everyone attending took the workout very seriously so there was never any horseplay.

Lane swimming was what it was called as we all tried to go up and down the pool, You were not allowed to take part in those sessions if you could not abide by the rule.

Goggles and swim caps were always necessary if you wanted to make some progress, To go at any speed at all the water getting into your eyes you had to supress.

Over the years I picked up lots of tips from lifeguards and swimming companions, Resulting in such improvements that we felt like we were aquatic stallions.

Bathing technique is at the core of the sport when you are trying so much to improve, Your head in the water with a slight turn to catch a breath means your body is quicker to move.

Reaching our peak way back then meant doing almost half a mile, Trying out the breast and back stroke for a change but concentrating on the freestyle.

Meeting the same people in the lanes each day meant building our own little bond, With the girls from Shop Vac a factory near-by I became rather fond.

Strangely we would all meet at each session dressed in only swim gear and cap, Often I would have loved to be able to witness the every-day person unwrap.

Becoming familiar with all the routines meant finding out what would work best, Soon I became aware that kicking ones legs from ones thighs would many problems arrest.

Using the many floats which you would find scattered right along the poolside, Holding them outstretched with my hand and kicking I began to glide.

Getting out of breath so fast made me realise how invaluable it was for stamina, Sometimes the most efficient way to improve is to watch your performance back on camera.

Smiling now as I think about with delight at how complete swimming made our break, Even though stretching was not very common back then we seldom had an ache.

After nine years it was time to change jobs to try to further my career, Even though I found better positions in new countries none could match that time for cheer.

Lane swimming imposed some discipline which I hope has stood to me as a benefit, If you live close to such an amenity without doubt I would recommend it.

Just take it seriously from the start and try to devote a regular time to train, Experience has definitely taught me that it also clears your brain.

Pace yourself until you build up core strengths depending on your stroke of choice, It will not be long before you find yourself feeling more productive and most of all nice.

John Melia

7th June 2020

FEEDING THE BIRDS Aware shortly after meeting Monica for the first time how important nature was in her life, Confirmation came over the years before she finally agreed to become my wife.

Walking at a gentle pace so she could note the flora and fauna that were in bloom, Quickly I began to realise that being out and about amidst it all was her perfume.

When a set-back in her health began to take its toll and keep her in our home, Necessity prompted me to find equally enjoyable ways for her mind to roam.

Buying our first bird house with feeder and stand almost twenty years ago, Immediately I knew from her instant reaction how much it made her glow.

Having a natural intelligent understanding of how our countryside finds its flow, I took more of an interest in the subject to see if some of her love on me she could bestow.

Initially doing the mundane tasks such as making sure the feeder was kept clean and full of nuts, Soon I was being lectured in detail on the intricate workings of their guts.

Our back garden which was surrounded by trees which at last were maturing and growing high Now was becoming an ideal place for nests to be made way up above from where they could fly.

Up to a couple of years ago Heidi’s cats from next door would regularly sunbathe on our back lawn, Maintaining one eye out for lurking birds while at the same time following the sun since dawn.

Lately they do not call as often and I have noticed what a difference it has made, Feathered friends seem to be much more plentiful just as if they were no longer afraid.

Blue tits and brown chaffinches are in abundance right now as they digest all the feed, Emptying the bird feeder in less than a day it’s becoming hard to keep up with their need.

Reading up that they swallow food whole and break it down later very well, Made me realise how little we know about those beautiful creatures that break out of a shell.

Renowned for surviving all types of weather from the harsh winter to the hot summer sun, Watching them right now from my back kitchen window they seemed to be having great fun.

While most migrate in the winter some of our native ones remain close to where they were born, Known to survive for two to up to twenty years from when they become airborne.

Sadly many of their lives are cut short by years when they succumb to being other animals prey, With the intricate and often cruel cycle of life in the wild they rarely have any say Most birds are monagomous having one mate at a time but usually several over its life-time.

Their relationships have even become famous lines in children’s nursery rhyme.

As to whether they show emotions after years of study by birdwatchers the jury is out, But with preening, sharing food and building nests together, some feelings are evident no doubt.

Birdwatching eases stress and anxiety and is well-known for being good for your mental health, Clearly experience has shown how slowing down to observe them actually competes with wealth.

From the sixth century onwards there are records of people feeding their feathered friends, Proof to anyone who is in any doubt that caring for the birds will always bring dividends.

Considered to be messengers from the spiritual realms maybe we should take more note, With so many complications with the pace of life today we should rejoice in the feelings they emote.

Pausing and taking a deep breath once in a while lowers stress and blood pressure too.

Knowledge gained from analysing why so many people feed the birds may help us to follow through.

John Melia

6th June 2020

MY TAKE ON KILLORGLIN IN THE SIXTIES My parents in the sixties lived in a two up two down house on School Road which they rented, Due to its proximity to the school, church, library and local barracks they were contented.

Dad was a member of an Garda Siochana at the time so the location was ideal, He could walk the short distance to work each day without the need to use his automobile.

Memories of Kevin, Anne and Maria as children sharing an upstairs bedroom come to mind, By todays’ standards with no bathroom and an outside toilet it would be called confined.

However we loved being in the town and enjoyed immensely all the games that we played, Santy came ever year and we never went without our meals in spite of the Gardai being badly paid.

Our father missed some of our early years being on duty on the beat, He would ride a big black motor bike dressed in special gear keeping crime off the street.

Meanwhile mam reared all of us and ran B&B to save for the building of our new house, Playing her part in so many ways to contributing to being a good and caring spouse.

Coffins were made next to us while Murphys owned an electrical shop at the corner of the street.

Across from Bunkers there was a travel agents office which dealt with men who went on the beet, Around the corner Killorglin ICA used to operate a lovely flower garden at the beginning of School Road, A peaceful escape where friends could have a chat on a seat while older folks just strode.

Puck Fair was a huge festival each August with merriment for three days non stop, We would be left to stay up late watching folks go by from our window top.

With dancing until three to the best of showbands in the ballrooms in the CYMS and Oisin, One could not get much sleep anyway due to all socialising and the loud rejoicing Mammy would bring us to the Garda Barracks to watch crowning of the goat from the top window, Mrs. Concannon the Sargent’s wife entertained us while below the street trading would continue.

On other visits we would play hide and seek at the back locking friends up in vacant cells, Would children in two thousand and twenty behaving in such a way raise alarm bells.

Going to the pictures in the Oisin cinema was another great pastime back when we were young, With four different movies showing every week we could name actors at the tip of our tongue.

Diarmuid managed the tickets to go in while his mother sold sweets minerals and icecream, Jerry Coffey projected the film reels which then allowed us all to dream.

After Christmas they would hold a fancy dress when we would go as someone in the news, Mam and dad were great for getting ideas which usually would amuse.

Each year the prizes were very rewarding so making the effort was quiet worth-while, We all got great satisfaction from dressing up in a little style.

Rounders was a competitive game played by the bigger boys in the Bog road in the railway field, Crowds would look on at the intensity of the sport, even to some girls it must have appealed.

Basketball was also big at the time with the local team going nationally along way, Coaches would show us how to take a jump shot in the local hall after school each day.

Trying gaelic football I gave my best but did not get very far as I really was not that good, Never the less going along with all my class mates was part of my boyhood.

Snooker became a hobby for a while after school in the C.Y.M.S. when evenings would get dark, With a small bit of practice and plenty of chalk I found I was even making a mark.

Lately I have being enjoying recollecting on little moments which to me stand out, Positive feedback from parents and friends of mine have left me in no doubt.

We all have memory banks with personal takes on what we go through, Never be afraid to write down your opinion and give your point of view.

John Melia

3rd June 2020

LOOKING A LITTLE DEEPER AT A TREE There is a tall deciduous tree growing on the road side in front of our wall, Throughout the long winter I had taken little notice of its wherewithal.

Suddenly it stands there majestically covered in fresh leaves which are soft light green, Spring known as a time of hope and renewal brings verdant hues which are so lean.

As summer begins to evolve its colour will mature and become obscure, Growing in strength while simultaneously losing its irresistible allure, Like the encapsulation of all the stages of life over the four seasons, Nature repeats the entire process annually for no persuasive reason.

Trees through photosynthesis make the earth a healthier place in which to live, We take them for granted, often ignore them and still they give and give.

In addition to cooling down our planet they among many uses provide protection, Becoming an essential part of the landscape they gain our affection.

Passers-by react in so many different ways to its presence by the pavement, With regular people overtime you can almost carry out an appraisement.

Children going to and from school will often pull on its limbs from habit, Reminding me of seeing a wild root in the ditch when I was young and trying to grab it.

Seeing the tree in a different light as it proudly displays its new suit of clothes, Makes one wonder from time to time if it really actually knows.

Some wellness coaches give advice that we should harness their energy by talking to them.

If Monica caught me exercising in such a way it would probably bring about mayhem.

Blocking out the dazzling sun rays which the fine summer evenings bring, Making my work less difficult around the time the angelus bell rings.

Drawing the blinds so early in the day would have been an abnormal price to pay, To give me some shade until the glare fades by keeping the bright gleam away.

Historically known to be symbols of divine knowledge and tranquillity, Epitomising the practice of prayer and meditation because of their humility.

Renowned for their ability to teach us the ancient laws of life, They bend but rarely break in spite of much hardship and strife.

Like all beautiful experiences in our lives the moment must be enjoyed, Later when winter causes its foliage to be shed onto the front lawn you may become annoyed.

Between now and then there will be scene colour changes from dark green to golden brown.

Finally the process of abscission leads to the natural detachment of leaves which then fall down.

Transforming from a sapling to a fully grown tree whispering gently in the breeze, A heavenly present to mankind to make use of as a simple means to appease.

Known to communicate by root with each other in forest areas and warning of impending danger, We should always show them our love and care and never make them feel a stranger.

Spend a little free time doing some research into how we can best be their carer, Learn about all that is happening underground and perhaps then become their bearer.

Reap the rewards that will unfold as you watch more closely their resulting development, Enjoying the pride and sense of social harmony you will get when they are in their element.

John Melia 2nd June 2020

CORONA JUNE BANK HOLIDAY STROLL Arising around five a.m. on the corona bank holiday weekend at the end of May, Something had prompted me to go for a walk to enjoy the glorious early morning array.

Taking the tall dark green shrub lined walkway by the school I could hear a lone cuckoo, Calling out in his unique sound in the distance as I wandered my way through.

Birds were singing their dawn chorus amplified by the early morning solitude, From the wide variety of woodland around the church which camouflaged its magnitude.

To my left the green meadow rose up towards where Foleys’ Fort once reigned high, While above me adding idyllic light was a refreshing bright blue sky.

Soon I was blinded by the dazzling sun from the perfect summer sunrise, As I made my way across the metal bridge the beauty would be hard to visualise.

Looking right to the south the stretching hills of the Mac Gillycuddy Reeks looked so majestic, By now the feelings of being privileged to be a witness to such surroundings were almost amnestic.

Suddenly I got a wonderful surprise when I spotted a lone angler casting his line in the Laune, Emotions began to surface as I was so proud to be living in this town.

Heading down the Nun’s Road bedecked with fairy fingers, sticky lilly and all kinds of fern, Reflections on the water from the glare of natural light were not yet my concern.

Recalling groups of rabbits playing freely in newly harvested fields on a similar walk at this time, Reinforced my belief in rising with the dawn like the lines of a nursery rhyme.

By the other bank swampy marshlands lay where in autumn the bulrushes grow, Memories of Halloween bonfires, dressing up and partying long ago.

August time would bring us down here picking blackberries for Mam to make her pie, Strolling past those naked bushes my eye is caught by a beautiful butterfly.

Under a tree in the convent field a lone horse is just standing there gazing, Does he miss some company or is he taking a break from grazing.

Rounding the corner at Ballykissane Cross turning left towards the junction at Reen, Sheep and cattle oblivious to what is going on around them are a sight to be seen.

Passing a grand old house covered in ivy and fronted by a mature garden, Lying there for over eighty years the owners must have got a bargain.

Rhododendruns looking over grown amidst the shrubbery looking tight, Further on Sliabh Mish and smaller peaks overlook the road to Dingle on my far right, Cows are returning to where they lay after the farmer completed his first round of milking, Nuts and plenty of water left out for when they are finished always make them willing.

Turning south up a long bothareen leading right to the top of Sunhill, Newly born calves now separated from their mother are eating of their own free will.

Nearby a black and while cat is sniffing a red flower pot with great curiosity, However always on the alert for a catch they can kill with blatant verocity.

Primroses were now in full bloom on the hedge-groves on either side, With sunlight now at my back illuminating nature I was left glue-eyed.

Reaching the highpoint of my stroll I could see for miles around, With spring running into summer the diversity of our world did abound.

Saying the rosary with my fingers as I rambled was my small way of showing appreciation, For the chance to enjoy a private viewing of some of the highlights of God’s creation.

Was I on retreat I questioned myself as I felt that sense of renewal, People everywhere should realise how invaluable is life’s free fuel.

John Melia 30th May 2020

APPRECIATE ONE DAY AT A TIME Studying commerce at university was a high point in my teens, Little did I appreciate at the time the strain it put on my parent’s means.

Too innocent to grasp fully how third level gives your life some shape, Like many students in those years going to college was my first big escape.

Leaving home to move to a city to begin study for a new career, Sharing a basic room in digs with a stranger seemed a bit austere.

Finding ones feet in new surroundings and making new friends, With classmates and in the choral society we were setting new trends.

Becoming familiar with lectures and a laissez faire way of learning, Trying very hard to give the impression that I was discerning.

Imposing discipline on oneself to find time to study all the notes, Appreciating them for being much more than anecdotes.

Getting tired with U2 in Nineteen Seventy Nine when they headlined City Hall, Dancing to The Memories until dawn when they played for the Cow Punchers Ball, Regaeing to UB40 with classmates in the dancehall at the Arcadia, By the river Lee which flows to the mouth near the sinking of the Lusitania.

Joining new clubs and societies which helped broaden my mind, Experiencing new feelings and realising the challenges of not being confined.

Going home at weekends and readjusting to what I had left behind, Reassuring my family that I was still not yet defined.

Working at with my Dad for the summer and passing exams for first year, Preparing for the second year with intentions which were more-clear.

Riding the crest of third level life when an accident stopped me in my tracks, Which left me in coma for two weeks and my whole life on the racks.

Taking over fifteen months to fully recover before getting into gear, Blessed with a strong sense of gratitude I always felt ‘ what’s another year’.

Starting out again at the very bottom I found I had new mental strength, That combined with a drive to staying healthy helped me accomplish at length.

Studying before work to gain a profession in my box room every day, Helped me to eventually pass all my exams and any lingering doubts allay.

After years of toil to feeling personal satisfaction when finally qualified, Only to face another mountain when due to the recession employment was denied.

Finding work in London I took the baton and made the big move, My faith and ability to make new friends allowed me to mentally improve.

Riding the surfboard through life requires developing a knack of being willing to accept, Learning how to stay safely afloat despite the size of the wave made me more adept.

Joining a church choir in Wembley as well as social gatherings after service, Made me feel part of a community and with new acquaintances I was not nervous.

Going along to the London Catholic Club led to taking part in a musical on the West End, Hill Walking in High Wycombe as well as being shown by a local postman where Oliver was penned.

Newly graduated I felt confident in myself but the pace of life was more difficult to comprehend, Working hours were much longer including expected unpaid overtime and to say I adjusted I will not pretend.

Realising my physical and mental capacity and making sure I made it my priority, In the midst of mounting pressure always gave me clarity.

Thankfully at home I eventually got recognition for my abilities, Securing employment where I could use my craft to develop sensibilities.

Cupid then stepped in when my future wife, my secretary, asked me out, Now happily married with our own home, take one day at a time being my motto, about that I have no doubt.

John Melia

28th May 2020

NOTHING IS AS IT MAY SEEM Spring nineteen seventy four was when I experienced my first major school tour, Headmaster Mr.O’Dwyer had led the way in the development of his school’s culture.

Girls and boys from first year right up to leaving certs all supervised by volunteer teachers, Ground breaking, innocent, eager, excited and explorative among their features.

Travelling overnight by ferry from Dublin we all shared cabins for our first night away, Before disembarking reinvigorated and refreshed in Hollyhead the next day.

Two coach loads began the journey to take us to our final destination, Hostelling in Kensington, in central London for the two night duration.

Memories of our buses speeding on the motorway are stuck in my mind, With Cyril who sat near me becoming sick from being too confined.

Senior students were requested to look out for the pupils from first year, Clearly from their reactions they were orders they would prefer not to hear.

Our lodgings in the city would not be acceptable in this advanced age, However over forty six years ago our taste buds did assuage.

Egg and Chips cooked by Shirley Valentine remind me of the food, Served in the canteen on the ground floor where for breakfast we had cued.

Soon we were given a guided tour of the most famous sights to see, Buckingham Palace, the Tower as well as the houses of the gentry.

We learned about Thomas Moore, Henry the eight, Napoleon and Waterloo, Before returning to our base to be divided up in two.

Mr. Griffin took soccer fans to Highbury to watch how Arsenal play While the rest of us went to view the world famous National Gallery display.

Later that evening after reuniting again we walked around Picadilly Square, After dinner in Trafalgar’s Golden Egg Restaurant we toured Vanity Fair.

On Sunday morning we went to the flea market down in Petty Coat Lane, Where after bargaining our best with local street traders some presents for home we did obtain.

Soon we were packing our bags once more and off on our journey to visit Ann Hathaway’s abode.

In the idyllic surroundings of Stratford on Avon, in a house which Shakespeare had bestowed.

After enjoying our pack lunch the buses crossed from England into Wales, The bus drivers kept us informed on the way with interesting details of historic trails.

Finally we arrived in Swansea to board the ferry that would take us to Rosslare, Going through customs our luggage was checked as we informed them we had nothing to declare.

Reflecting now as I look back on growing up I remember how challenging was the scene, When a more experienced boy with ulterior motives produced what he called ‘a magazine’.

Hormones were beginning to change at that age unaided by our catholic faith, Discovering feelings for the first time were often followed by guilt and hate.

Parents did not speak much about the changes in life and if so mainly for females, Boys usually learned about it behind the shed as they were given limited details.

One year later feeling more grown up I sat beside a girl who I liked going to Clare, Later that night my mother was told by a senior teacher who felt she should be made aware.

We all have unique individual personalities with no two people the same, Some of us may be more sensitive and not respecting that fact may be to maim.

In this era when trade unions make sure of employees rights and ensure everything is fair, People must point out to each of their peers that all of us really do care.

John Melia

23rd May 2020

MY FIRST SCHOOL TOUR People find it easy to remember where they were on very warm days, Our ability to recall events that took place so long ago will always amaze.

Vivid memories of one of the hottest days in my life regularly come back, Just like recalling the lines of what was back then my favourite sound track.

When I was in fourth class we made plans for our annual school tour, For weeks before our teacher had given us choices from a colourful brochure.

Parents were not very well off back then so cost was always a factor, All the class had to guarantee that they could afford to pay the bus contractor, Finally the morning arrived to get dressed up for the special occasion, Rising early from our beds of course took little persuasion.

Right away the sun was shining before I was even dressed.

Gathering in class to wait for our bus we knew that the weather was blessed.

Soon we were merrily on our way heading for our destination, Singing songs we had learned during the year as we started on our vacation.

Muckross house and gardens was soon in sight as we drove out the Kenmare Road, Already we were all sweltering from the heat so great a day it did boad.

Upon our arrival we were directed to the house to be greeted by our guide, She led us carefully around the rooms making sure everything we saw was identified.

My first time to see inside and alas I have never gone back again, To be honest I can say for a fact that such a venue was not my terrain.

By lunch hour we had had enough of the heat and needed something cool, A visit to the coffey shop at the rear of the building was decided by majority rule.

I still can picture that large dispenser filled to the top with ice cool orange juice, When we had all finished quenching our thirst there was nothing superfluous.

Having all brought pack lunches with us from home we picnicked in the small square outside, Clearly it was evident from the banter of the group that we all were satisfied.

Next stop was a walk around the gardens where teachers spoke about the countryside, Armed with maps and descriptive books we received all the knowledge they could provide.

By half past two we were starting to tire as we were all sun burnt from the heat Having used up all our energy so eagerly we could sense the day was complete.

Gladly we could see our bus return to carry the sleepy troopers back home, Conking out in our welcome seats all that was left was for our imagination to roam.

Tales about Tír na Nóg came to mind and of the galliant Chu Cullain’s tirades, Wandering on horseback through the dense irish everglades These were heroes to the children back then in tales and local folklore.

Just like today’s children are watching Superman, Spiderman or the God of Asgard Thor.

Everyone slept like babies that night as a result of all that fresh air, No doubt because we all felt so happy nobody had a nightmare.

Tomorrow would be the start of the final run in before summer holidays begin, Thanks to what turned out to be a glorious day we would all be sporting a grin.

John Melia 18th May 2020

THE WISDOM OF LIFE Major moments we look back on as we come of age, Often depend on our health, wellbeing and status at that stage.

Christmases, birthdays, births and deaths to name but a few, Any major occasion depending on what may be your point of view.

When you are young these days matter a great deal, From writing to Santa Claus to whatever was your appeal.

If you are lucky to have brothers and sisters they can help you out, When confirming certain events when your memory may be in doubt.

My First Holy Communion comes to mind as we made ours in the local parish hall, You see the community were doing a big job on the church as far as I recall.

Later we had our photographs taken in the I.C.A. garden amid all the flowers, Thankfully we were so lucky that there were not any showers.

Class reunions always offer a wealth of knowledge all at one time, After years of scaling the ladder of life that we all have to climb.

School mates recall embarrassing moments at our most relaxed, Usually at the end of the night when we are not too taxed.

Overcoming hurdles and setbacks along the way will be par for the course, Reacting and changing direction as often as is required will in hindsight be your force.

Discovering a stimulating hobby that you can call your own, Will make you new friends, motivate your brain and keep you in the zone.

How would life have turned out if only we knew what we know now, Would fate intervene to ensure we end up the same anyhow.

Some of us were shy back then and did not take a chance, Maybe a little more courage would have resulted in teenage romance.

Maturity brings among many things a sense of being content, By looking back with wiser eyes to being satisfied with what went.

Older folks will always remind you that to be hasty is to waste, After reacting too quickly when we feel hard done we may not like the taste.

Taking the time to understand someone may often mean more in the end, Than the person with all the looks who may be inclined to overspend.

We were told by our parents as we grew up that you must love someone warts and all, Who do you hope will be there for you when it may be your turn to fall.

Exploring beneath the surface will always result in harmony, Leading to increased cohesion and maximising chivalrous armoury.

Appreciating what you have here and now and giving it your best shot, Nearly always has a happy ending instead of being tied up in a knot.

Years pass by so quickly and nothing will last for ever, Try to live life to the full and thus strengthen your endeavour.

Trust that there is a unique path for everyone that hopefully in time we will learn, Providence will ultimately, the meaning of a happy ending, discern.

John Melia 17th May 2020

THE 1969 GENERAL ELECTION Yesterday we had a day off because the general election was being held, Crowds had thronged the school in scenes unparalleled.

Voting for their favourite candidate to fill the vacant seats, My Dad who was a guard at the time was there to make sure no one cheats.

Chubb O’Connor’s grandson Kenneth was my classmate and good friend, When we finished doing our homework we had many hours to spend.

He had lots of stickers and posters saying Vote Fianna Fail, So from early morning on election day we wore them as we watched from the school wall Grown up men and women came all groomed trying to make up their mind, It really was a social occasion and now time for all to unwind.

Rivalry had been bitter in a town so strongly divided, One party left crates of porter to thank electors before they decided.

Posters were being torn down by rival party followers, Wearing printed t-shirts they acted like they were warriors.

Counters would be waiting out in front noting everyone who came, Tomorrow when the result is out there will be someone to blame.

I wonder did they see our projects about ‘The first man to land on the moon’, Adorning all our third class room walls since the beginning of June.

My favourite moment of the day was that nobody knew how the bottles could be uncapped, Memories of, after much panic, banging tops off the school gate seemed very apt.

Spellings must be learned when I go home as on Friday we have a test, Whoever gets the most correct on the day will be crowned the best, He will get a slap off for each one right while the rest of us wait for the train, Entailing trips around the room each time you got one wrong to be slapped with a cane.

Some of the boys were not good at reading and endured a terrible time, Looking back now at what went on makes one realise it was a crime.

We all react in different ways to what now is against the law, How many pupils after suffering back then as a result began to withdraw.

In September Scoil Mhuire would be going all co-ed, Everyone was nervous of what may lay ahead.

Now grown up and married I wonder what was all the fuss, Clearly in hindsight the move definitely was a plus.

Friends were made for life as our education came of age, Casual meetings and reunions are always great even if a few decided to disengage.

Time is the great healer as we progress to new chapters in life, Looking ahead should be our goal in avoiding conflict or strife.

John Melia

May 15th 2020

REFLECTION Killorglin’s Canon for seventeen years was being laid to rest this morning, Just a few hours earlier another sunny day was slowly dawning.

There was a certain air of excitement as people began to assemble, Spectators waiting for a major event it certainly did resemble.

Strange times prevented people witnessing the traditional requiem mass, Instead everyone was waiting for the funeral hearse to pass.

The streets were all lined with parishioners wishing to say goodbye, Above them not a cloud was to be seen in the beautiful blue sky.

Everyone had their own impression of Father Fleming’s legacy, From his religious leadership and personal qualities to his popularity.

All agreed how firmly he captained his ship for seventeen years, From daily mass and baptising babies to last rites and parting tears.

Digging deeper under the surface what we believe in is at the heart, In such a secular world we are striving to keep it from falling apart.

Where once discussing religion could be a very public proclamation, Today expressing that one believes in God may cause vexation.

Our church itself has played its part in making the topic uncool, While the press due to its wide reporting has caused a great debate to fuel.

People must be careful that the baby is not thrown out with the bath water, Like encouraging opting out of religion clauses in our alma mater.

Nature in its diversity however is constantly evolving, So too should our concept of faith and the bible be resolving.

Patience that over time our lives will become much clearer, Wisdom leading to a deeper understanding becoming nearer.

Keeping our creed and our lives simple is defined by our need, Working to meet our spiritual goals in life will our souls feed.

Reading the Gospel or saying the rosary are forms of meditation, Reducing all the stresses and anxieties should be our vocation.

Loving and forgiving others and letting go of any resentment, Pacifies the brain and is invariably followed by personal contentment.

Looking at topics in depth from another’s point of view, Should broaden the mind and spiritual judgment renew.

Slowing down to the speed of life and focussing on the present, Will help us on a life long journey to our heavenly ascent.

We will then feel we have better concentration and improved health, Greater self-esteem, appreciation and the benefits of true wealth.

John Melia

13th May 2020

THE BACK LAWN Morning sunshine draws us to look out the windows at the array of colours we can see, The bright greenness of the freshly cut lawn has become a feature we all agree.

Illuminated by the early morning rays it reflects the overcasting shadow, Of the majestic palm trees or the shrubs that surround the meadow.

We go about our lives each day oblivious to the depth of its furthering, What was involved in its planning, planting weeding and nurturing.

How the wisdom of parents who have been through the process before, Helped create an escape from the hustle and bustle of life to adore.

Memories of the lack of privacy and shelter when we first moved in, When young trees and immature grass would its bareness underpin.

Magnifying the sense of peace and joy that we now take for granted, Instead of being unrelaxed at home we feel enchanted.

I smile at how we played on the lawn so happily as children when we were young, Forethought and toil of our parents often went unsung.

Football, hurling, soccer, rugby and horse-jumping were played with passion, Emulating Croke Park, Wembley or whatever sport was in fashion.

How many times did we wade through neighbouring fields of corn, Searching for our ball while often bringing the farmers scorn.

Friends would call to play tig, hide and seek or stuck in the mud, While Dad’s maintenance of everything that would grow was always our lifeblood.

As our garden came of age Monica would bring her parents back for dinner, Her mother being a nature lover found the whole lay out a winner.

On the other hand her father offered his advice that we should buy a goat Who would keep the grass from growing, an idea she will often quote.

On the few occasions when we were asked to look after her special nephew Jack, Our minds were put at ease by the safety of the surroundings out our back.

Seeing his unique smile when he came across a flower that got his attention, Was a great source of comfort when trying to keep at bay our tension.

Today we are entertained by the richness of what the environment brings, From the cats who live next door to a wide range of birds displaying their wings.

My favourite moment was Heidi’s rabbit who needed a change of food, Which was clear from the wide variety of our shrubs that he chewed.

In the evenings I cut the grass when everything is nice and dry, Making sure that I look out for any dark clouds in the sky.

Noticing more each day the cyclical patterns of God’s creation, Gives me plenty of thought for fruitful meditation.

Life just like the world is going around and around, Sometimes when we step off we may find we are astound.

This horrible virus which has caused us all to pause, May when we finally find a cure spur on a more worthy cause.

John Melia

8th May 2020

Skelligs Day After school on a Monday in February we all went to buy our ropes, Almost nine years of age I still am not sure what indeed were our hopes.

Tuesday was Skelligs Day and the boys in my class were all excited, Fulfilling a custom that went back hundreds of years our hearts were ignited.

Long ago marriages were forbidden by the churches during Lent, Except on Skelligs where the special order monks would give their consent.

When marriageable boys and girls let another Shrove Tuesday pass unmarried, The younger lads would put a circle rope around his wife and to the island they would be carried.

Lassos were sold in a hardware shop in the centre of Killorglin town, As the owner measured the rope other customers would frown.

Dad had given me the pocket money as he had gone along, Even though he was a guard he knew there was no wrong.

Our teachers would leave the girls go home fifteen minutes before the boys, Then off we took like cowboys in a western making plenty of noise.

Once cornered she was taken to the woods and tied up to a tree, There never was any harm done and in a few minutes would be free.

Soon we were going home all worn out and longing for something to eat Mam would have pancakes ready flavoured with lemon for a treat.

Now that Killorglin has become multi cultured I was pleased to learn, Eastern Europeans called the feast Fat Tuesday as their native home they would yearn We get the name from shriven which means absolution for our sins, Christians would go to confession before the forty day fast begins.

People spent the week before stuffing themselves by indulging merrily.

All presses would be cleaned out of rich food and drink as they celebrated cheerily.

In other countries around the world Mardi Gras is celebrated, The French translation of Fat Tuesday so we are all associated.

Holding colourful parades where participants dressed up and everyone had great fun, Before reconciliation, solemn prayer and Ash Wednesday penance is done.

Grown up now I smile looking back at how our life has changed, But delving into history has shown that we were not deranged.

Maybe these surreal times will give us a little more time to reflect, Stop for a moment and ensure that the heritage we have we do not neglect.

John Melia

May 2nd 2020

SWIMMING ‘UP THE BANK’

The Cottener’s river rose at Coomloughra in the MacGillycuddy Reeks, Starting off as a tiny trickle from the large lake amidst the peaks.

Winding its way through Glencuttane and on to Ownagarry, Through boggy countryside and hilly terrain that will often vary.

After Ardmoneil it flows onto Meanus where it meets the Laune, At a cross roads by a bridge about a mile from Killorglin town.

To the local population the area was always called ‘up the bank’, As a swimming area in the summer time in the sixties it was top of the rank.

Once the weather improved at the start of June young people would make their way, For many years it was renowned for being a safe place to swim or play.

Just before the rivers joined up there was a natural swimming zone, With the banks lined with safety life buoys as it was so well known.

Children up to the age of twelve could paddle on the right hand side, While teenagers on the left hand side would often jump and dive with pride.

Pollution was not a problem in those bygone days, Traffic on the road was much lighter so there were few objections to raise.

We would walk or cycle with our friends up the Annadale road, Back then we paid little heed to the safety code.

Sometimes we would be ambushed from the woods by boys from the new estate, Armed with catapults, sticks and stones while they lay in wait.

Having evaded our attackers we went on to pass two large mansions, Such homes were rare in those years before the great expansions.

Tales were told of strange goings on which I was too young to understand, When you are at your innocent stage folklore and rumours go hand in hand.

Many learned how to swim before progressing to the cross-banks on the main river, No doubt tales of growing in confidence caused many parents to shiver.

Love stories began in those sunny days but I wish I had been more mature, Nevertheless our freedom to use our imaginations added to the allure.

Lately I trekked through the area and discovered the place all overgrown, No longer used by the youth today everything seemed so forlorn.

Now there is barbed wire and land reclamation where there used to be swamp, Meanwhile children with everything they have online probably are too ‘pomp’.

Cherishing memories of good times spent when life moved at a slower pace, Like everyone else I have moved on in trying to keep up with the new rat race.

Valuing one day at a time is now the best I can do, Seeing our surroundings in a new light will my faith in life renew.

John Melia

2nd May 2020

My concertina Little did I know when I got my first instrument what it would mean to me, Buying a teach yourself book I started out as a trainee, Patience and perseverance and commitment come to mind, As early feelings on my journey felt more like a struggle than a grind.

Being alone in London I looked for something to remind me of home, When work and daily chores were done the concertina was my time to roam.

Upstairs in a small box room I spent hours of daily toil, Frequently I felt like giving up when my kettle would never boil.

With a basic two button I began playing doe a deer, Learning how to walk before moving up a gear.

Making endless mistakes while learning a new tune, Finding out that the only solution was to cocoon.

Using simple songs learnt long ago the water began to flow, Playing them over and over again my confidence began to grow.

Soon I felt inhibited in what I wanted to do, Expanding my repertoire required something new.

Back home again in Ireland it was in Galway city that I found, Something which I hoped with make a better sound.

Trying popular songs that I knew helped improve playing by ear, My brother Kevin even told me that he liked what he could hear.

Just when I felt I was at my best my ego was shattered, When a musician offering me advice said traditional irish music is what mattered, Jigs, reels, hornpipes, slides, polkas and airs was my immediate quest, Reading music and adding ornamentation became my new test.

One day while on ebay I noticed a Sutner for sale by a teacher from County Clare, Without hesitation I took the plunge as I knew such items were rare.

Making music was now as important as looking after my health Winding down each day with a few tunes was my newfound wealth.

As I improve I find the summit seems further away, Having a go every night I can see the light and know I am making headway.

The stories behind all those old tunes has added a new dimension, Researching the composers had never been my initial intention.

Three decades have passed so far and still I have much to learn, Now I am truly aware of all the satisfaction I can earn.

My mental capacity to recall so many tunes has been a revelation.

While the new friends I have made on the way has been my salvation.

John Melia

29th April 2020

STARGAZING Looking up at the sky I felt I know little about the stars, To be honest I could not even tell Jupiter from Mars.

When I began to delve into the subject a bit more, My studies began to bring me back to its core.

Man has had an interest in our skies for centuries, Personally it brings back plenty of memories.

Neill Armstrong put the world’s first foot on the moon, Back in 1969, when I was only eight, in June.

Astronomy now I have learnt is the study of spaces’ motions, While astrology concentrates on how it affects our emotions.

The zodiac which got its name from small animals in a circle, Has become a symbol for the stars which is now universal.

We all sometimes check our horoscope in a magazine, Or when we meet a person with the same sign we are keen.

It may be just a chat up line, That may often turn into a valentine.

My sister in law lives her life by the zones A bad reading is always a cause for groans.

How many people will get their fortune told, In an effort in helping them to find their gold.

The girls in my class would read my hand, If what they saw was good I felt grand, They would sing a rhyme or wave a wand, Which might match you up with a lovely blonde.

Never one to get caught up in the craze, Everything to me was part of commercial blaze Millions have been made along the way, Although few predictions are right on the day.

But when Monica shouted out with glee, Seamus Heaney has the same date of birth as me.

Something happened in my mind, To make me believe that life is kind.

John Melia

13 April 2019

‘Aintree’ Crossing Melling Road for the second time, Meeting familiar faces still in their prime.

Celebrating forty years since leaving school, Nobody minded being the centre of ridicule.

Everybody has been through the ups and downs of life, Some may even have had their share of strife.

Yet we all felt like fifteen once more, Discussing class stories now folklore.

Wiser now having been through the mill, Life seems easier now just like going downhill.

Laughing and crying about memories we shared, Carefree again as intimate stories we bared.

My heart was in my head at times, Feeling nostalgic between those lines.

Trembling with emotion as I finished my piece, No I did not want this night to cease.

Peoples’ memories may not have been at their best, By just being there, we all felt blest.

Bashful then we could not know, What the fruits of all that toil would show.

Regrets perhaps there were a few, Little did we know what would come true.

Encouragement may have done more for us, Than angry words which left us thus.

Passing years and a second chance, Makes one realise life may be gone in a glance.

School pals made when we were young Are among life’s virtues that go unsung.

Let’s start again with a vibrant gust, One day at a time with renewed trust.

Try to keep an eye out for your health.

Always try to look after it just like your wealth.

Here’s to meeting again in a few more years, Hoping of course there will not be tears, Keep your eye on the ball when you go out to play, We are all in this race for the long stay.

John Melia

8th August 2018

RUNNING MASCARA Taken too soon and far too quickly, we will always miss you Kevin, Our only consolation is believing you’re in heaven.

Words cannot explain what’s missing now you’re gone, As you lived life with such presence, a wonder now anon.

You went about your tasks with diligence and zest, Leaving a lasting impression when life put you to the test.

You used your powers of reason when confronted by your peers, Solutions came so easy, we remember while shedding tears.

You lived life with a passion while at work and recreation, Bob Dylan and the Kop must be part of your citation.

God blessed you with a voice that made you shine so bright, When you sang with power or sweetly, bringing joy and great delight.

You touched the hearts of all with the interpretation in your voice, Raglan Road and Ave Maria were always our first choice.

Taken for a reason that only time will tell, We hope that you are needed far beyond the funeral bell.

Your send off was a celebration, sadly at a cost, Running mascara at your funeral mass said much of what we lost.

We, your loved ones, miss you dearly, you were loyal to the core, Like playing with nieces and nephews, that never was a chore.

Ask God’s help for mam and dad who miss your love and care, As they try to struggle with the grief and find it hard to bear.

He blessed us with a final chance to see you at your best, Before he took you to his paradise, your final place of rest.

You’re with the other holy souls in utopia in the air, We pray you’re in a better life, full of wonder and no despair.

So thanks again for what you meant, to all who loved you dear, We know one day we will meet again when God will be our peer.

To Kevin with love, you brother John June 2008