gone, gone, gone

From six months ago, anger then, just a resdiual feeling now ...

Driving to my last day of work I played this track from the Alison Krauss and Robert Plant album 'Raising Sand'.

The line 'gone, gone, gone, coz you done me wrong' seemed appropriate.

Glad to be gone. Now let's move on.


For more information ...
raising sand

myth of return

Take me back to those flooded deltas,
To the minarets of Mullaghmore.
Where fiddles play during Diwali
And Aid El Keibar in Kilfinoir.

Bring me to the crossroads
Where sitars play at saris glance.
A game of handball with the lads
Or perhaps kabbadi before the dance.

Teach me Hindi, Urdu and Irish
And we will speak as we did before,
When we left like parting lovers
In those yesterdays of dreams foretold.

Let me sing to Siddartha as Dev once did,
See Jesus and Krishna swap stories through the night.
May the women and men feel free in their love
Until the golden dawn, until the morning light.

But in the morning light day break delusions,
Dreams soon pass and reality will burn.
For Castlebar or Bangalore
We've dreamt once again this myth of return.
----------------------------------------

Written in July of 1994 and inspired by a study that revealed the Irish and Bangladeshis have the strongest sense of one day returning to their homeland. It contains a mix of Irish, Indian, Muslim, historical and geological references and I felt it was appropriate to post it given our imminent return to Ireland.

In places the words fail to scan and the lyric quality stumbles but I have decided to leave it in its original form.

What our return holds I don't know but we will be living close to a crossroads.

let no one sleep

Ireland, a nation who had never previously qualified for the world cup, came alive in June of 1990. A nervous start resulting in 3 draws took us through to the second round of the competition. Our luck continued when we then beat Romania on penalties 5-4. Sheedy, Houghton, Townsend, Cascariono and O'Leary scored and then Packie Bonner saved from Timofte to put us through to the quarter finals. A moment branded into the memory of those who witnessed it.

The tournament ended for us when we lost to a goal from Salvatore Schillaci and Italy in the quarter final. Schillaci would go on to win the best player and golden boot award but our luck had run out.

The ups and downs were experienced to the backdrop of the Nessun Dorma, the song of that summer. Pavarotti brought it alive and even though none of us knew of Turandot or Calàf, we all connected with the song.

No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.

So the chorus sings as the night begins to die, a fitting paradox for that great Italian singer who died today, aged 71.


For more information ...
pavarotti
italia '90
nessun dorma
maria callas

where go the boats

(source: Henry W Taunt)

Dark brown is the river.
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating—
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore

Robert Louis Stevenson, from A Child's Garden of Verses, 1885.

I have made my own tune for this poem and have sung this to Tomas at night since he was born. We talk about this as been one of the 'old songs' and when I ask does he want one of the 'old songs', he says yes.

For more information ...
robert louis stevenson

leaving ithaca

Rain fall tropple,
Dipple, dopple,
Drupple, drapple.
Fall down, down, down.

Water fall down,
Over earth rising,
Boulder bank breaking,
Bedded earth rising.
Flow down, down, down.

To switching sands of shores uncertain,
To seas of strange and untrusting
Waters deep; deepened by our tears of woe
But then to go
Toward on high
Where clouds will fly onward home
From whence to roam and roam again
To wherever where, whenever when
Sometime soon we’ll meet again,
Somewhere where, some when, when.


A recent posting on still life ...with life reminded me of this effort from 12 years ago, so I decided to post it here.

I wrote this after visiting a friend who was attending Cornell in Ithaca, upstate New York. Ithaca's surroundings are dramatically cut by beautiful gorges and this probably prompted the water theme which I combined with an old favourite of mine, the theme of return. Although there are no direct references to Odysseus I was thinking of his return home to that other Ithaca in Greece after his travels.

Inventing words can come across as a naive pursuit and I'm not sure they fully work here but I have decided to leave the poem in the original November 1995 form. I also probably should apologize to Gerard Manley Hopkins as this is one of a few poems that has been influenced by his writings.


For more information ..
ithaca, usa
ithaca, greece
still life ...with life
gerard manley hopkins
inversnaid

turn, turn, turn

Got a brilliant children's book of illustrations from the library based on the text of Pete Seeger's classic "turn, turn, turn". It includes a CD with his version and the more popular version by the Roger McGuinn and The Byrds. The book is beautifully illustrated and Pete Seeger's live folk version has a raw and rough quality that for me is more attractive than the Byrds pop version.

I think the music seems timely given the changes we are about to go through.



To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time of war, a time of peace
A time of love, a time of hate
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!



For more information ...
turn, turn, turn
Pete Seeger
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

the four seasons

Recently listening to Vivaldi's 'four seasons' I find myself surprised that I like them, as I had developed a distaste for them in the late '80's.

That time in Britain was dominated by the excesses of Thatcherite culture. It was a time of Gordon Gecko and 'greed is good' and the four seasons formed a musical backdrop for the last declining days of Margaret and her yuppies. The music became as common place as Constable's Haywain is on place mats and because of that probably undervalued, at least in my mind.

With a fresh and unprejudiced ear I have begun to listen to them again and found them to be great. My wife bought me Roberto Michelucci's take on them and I am thoroughly enjoying it. It almost makes me want to go out a buy Nigel Kennedy's take on Vivaldi. In particular I like the faster parts from Summer and Autumn, the allegros and presto.

Give them a listen, let me know what you think.

• Concerto No. 1 in E major, Op. 8, RV 269, "La primavera" (Spring)
  1. Allegro
  2. Largo
  3. Allegro
• Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 8, RV 315, "L'estate" (Summer)
  1. Allegro non molto - Allegro
  2. Adagio - Presto - Adagio
  3. Presto
• Concerto No. 3 in F major, Op. 8, RV 293, "L'autunno" (Autumn)
  1. Allegro
  2. Adagio molto
  3. Allegro
• Concerto No. 4 in F minor, Op. 8, RV 297, "L'inverno" (Winter)
  1. Allegro non molto
  2. Largo
  3. Allegro

For more information ...
Antonio Vivaldi
the four seasons
Nigel Kennedy
Margaret Thatcher
wall street
hay wain
the four seasons recording by Roberto Michelucci