Friendship

It seems to me that friendship

Is oft hard to define

Whose meaning are we using?

Is it yours or is it mine?

Some would say a true friend

Is one who's always there

One who will support us

To show they really care

Yet at times we need to stumble

Sometimes to fall down too

A friend who lets this happen

Is still a friend to you

For if we had no trials

And never searched our soul

We'd make no forward progress

Our lives would not be whole

Reason, Season, or Lifetime

To this I say not so

A friend is for the moment

And then we must let go

And if perchance tomorrow

Another moment brings

My friend we'll be together

With no demands or strings

At times we can hurt a friend

While never meaning to

The measure of that friendship

Is if they forgive you

My friendship is not perfect

I'm just a human man

And so I love my friends

In the only way I can

To me they are a treasure

A rare and priceless gem

They're in my heart forever

I hope they know I love them

Sunlight

Your love is like the sunlight

Shining down on me

It warms and caresses

And makes me feel carefree

Everything looks different
In your love's true light
Full of life and vibrancy
A blessing to my sight

Sometimes the clouds pass over
And hide your love from me
I know that it's still up there
It's just that I can't see

Through the rain and through the snow
And through the storms so fierce
Like an arrow from the bow
Your love will always pierce

But at last the darkness falls,
The sun has finally set
No weeping and no wailing,
No talking of regret

Instead I'll be rejoicing
That I walked within your light
And hoping for a new dawn
To end this lonely night

Reflections

I look in the mirror
and what do I see?
A fractured image
staring back at me

So many faces
all around,
splits and schisms
seem to abound

Is it possible?
Could it be?
Are all these faces
facets of me?

I don't know why
I'm so divided,
split apart
and many sided

But I'll try
to merge as one
all these pieces
come undone

As they blend
and reunite
I have a hope
I'm holding tight

That when at last
I reach my goal
I'll be myself
hale and whole

And then I'll shine
with an inner light
of purest love
burning bright

Web of Lies

Through a tangled web I weave

just trying to not get lost

Seems everyone is out to deceive

no matter what the cost

They say that truth will set you free
but how can truth be found?
When ears wont hear and eyes wont see
in illusion you'll be bound

And so the people in my life
can drive me to distraction
It's not that they are full of strife
or want a chain reaction

It's not that they don't care at all
or that their love is fake
It's just that they can feel so small
and in their heart's an ache

So I'll try my best to ease their pain
and all the hurt thereof
to show them how the truth can reign
with gentle caring love

Then perhaps one day they'll be set free
and know that inner peace
that comes about when you can "be"
and let the falseness cease

Just Add Ice...

Here is another short poem that I found lurking on my computer. I wrote it several years ago and promptly forgot about it. I can see why...can you say overdramatic and bitter?

Blended Love

When you give your heart to someone

And they treat it with gentle loving kindness

Awed at the gift that you have given them

You just don't expect it

When one day

They put it in a blender

and hit puree

More Musings and a Poem

I don't expect everyone to do things the way that we do in America, but, seriously, in this day and age with the all the technological advances we have, can't the Irish switch to a smaller electrical plug? The ones that they use look like some kind of heavy duty utility thing and are just way too bulky.

In Ireland, you are never asked if your food is "to go", it's always "for here or take away?"

Now, I am in no way suggesting that they are leprechauns, but I have seen an inordinate number of little people here.

All of the street signs, billboards, posters and such are in both English and Irish (technically Irish Gaelic), kind of like Miami with Spanish...but no one here actually speaks Irish.

I'm not quite sure why, but every pub, club, and bar here in Dublin has at least one bouncer standing in front of it...complete with a secret service type earpiece. Just what is it from which they are protecting the general population?

I'm all in favor of short skirts, but...good grief! The girls over here, especially the younger ones, are wandering the streets in what amounts to a scarf tied around their waist. I don't think they realize how ridiculous they look. Although, maybe the skirts explain the need for the bouncers.

One of my favorite things about McDonalds has always been their straws. They have the sturdiest, biggest straws that you can find anywhere. Well, here in Dublin, McDonalds has decided to forego the traditional straw in favor of a cheesy, thin, bendy straw...very disappointing!

They have one of the best inventions ever in most of the public restrooms here. It is called a Dyson Airblade, and it dries your hands better than anything I have ever experienced. You stick your hands in and then pull them out slowly...about 10 seconds in all...and your hands are completely dry. On top of that, it is better for the environment too...check it out http://www.dysonairblade.com/homepage.asp


And now...the aforementioned and promised poem...

An Ode to Guinness

My goodness, my Guinness

what a beautiful sight!

your dark, chocolatey color

your aroma just right

With a thick frothy head

from your nitrogen pour

So smooth going down

I always want more

Your taste so unique

it's like no other

A meal in a glass

think I'll have another

Just four simple things

make this liquid feast

water and hops,

barley and yeast

Combined together

in just the right measure

they make an elixir

thats nothing but pleasure

If I overindulge

good thing I'm resiliant

my goodness, my Guinness

simply...brilliant!

Random Musings on These Wacky Celts

The Guinness here is unlike anything you will ever get in the states.

French fries here are called chips.

Chips here are called crisps.

You can never forget what you are drinking, because all the pubs pour your beverage of choice into a glass that has the name printed on it.

If you order a simple mixed drink, you will get a glass containing ice and the liquor, the mixer will be served in its own bottle. You must do the mixing yourself. When I asked, I was told that sometimes the women don't like to pour the whole bottle of mixer into the drink.

When the weather is warm (which I assume is not very often), you will find the Irish laying in the sun anywhere where there is some grass...despite the fact that they are mostly all pasty white.

Bono knew what he was doing when he sang that the streets have no names...cause they don't. There is no way to match a map to the actual streets because there are no street signs. Every now and then there will a sign posted to the side of a building, but they are certainly not reliable. Irish people seem to give directions more in regard to places...you know...like, go down the road and take a left at the pub...

If you need something, you can just run down the road to the Spar store (think 7-11)

I think they must call it the Emerald Isle for many reasons...Ireland is very green (think ecological)...not as much as our Pacific Northwest, but close.

If you have to shut down major roads to extend the tracks for your streetcar, it's probably not worth it.