" Great Plains Prayer "

Bless us, Oh Lord, 

and this our Jell-O. Our corn,

and steaks and kolaches.

Our heat indexes. Our wind chills.

Our sunsets and horizons.

Our endless waves of grain and grass.

Our ancestors who started out

for the coast but stopped half-way.

Our nostalgia for their calico,

their sod, their olde homesteads.

Our denial of the meth labs

that have taken their place.

Bless our perseverance.

Our unerring politeness.

Our red state politeness

and our white, white bread.

Bless our dubious status

as tornado alley or flyover zone

and bless all those who fly over,

as well as those of us who, out of

choice or necessity or inertia -

forgive us, we know not why  or what

we've done - but, by God, stayed.

~ Grace Bauer

(1952-    ) 

U.S.A.

~ Beannaichte'

17 July, 2017

beannaichte.twitter.com   

"Pessimist"

Pessimist:

One who,

when He has the Choice

of two Evils,

chooses both.

~Oscar Wilde

(1854-1900)

Ireland

~ Beannaichte'
11 July, 2017


beannaichte.twitter.com                                                                         

"A Writer"

~ Becoming

the

 reader

is the

essence

of

becoming

a 

writer.

                                          ~ John O'Hara

                              
Beannaichte'


Alicia O'Hara
6 July, 2017


beannaichte.twitter.com

"Two Words"

LISTEN & SILENT

have the same letters.

Coincidence?

~Unknown

~Beannaichte'

10 May, 2017

@beannaichte.twitter.com

" The Red Bird Sings"

~ No sun outlasts the sunset
           But will rise again
                                    And bring the Dawn. 

 ~ Maya Angelou 

The day is lovely, I climb the hill ...

A grave marker gleaming in the afternoon sun
Your name, oh so familiar and true
I reach  for the top of the stone, to steady myself, and you are there
I trace the letters with my heart and hand
 Realising, you live on in each heart that loves you -
And the red bird sings.


Your life; so much more than mere words chiseled in stone...

The view, one  so reminiscent of you

Age-olde trees, settled in a peaceful ravine

Teaming with the glories of Nature; each one, you held so dear
Yours  is a special room in a safe corner of my Heart
Never to forget you -

 And the red bird sings.

As I ascend the hill, it seems a difficult climb...

 I remember how often you walked 

When little oxygen was given you

 Your body incredibly stressed

Yet, you were determined to give each step your absolute best

I will give you no less -

 And the red bird sings.

Your  husband, now buried next to you...

Following you, nine months later
To the Great Unknown;

I guess it is the way it was meant to be
Perhaps those were his wishes, as to be with you
You never liked being away from each other -
And the red bird sings.

I bring nothing in my hands...

Yet, my Heart is full
So many thoughts and emotions
Now, seeping through porous grief
A grief that we often bore, together

We were always a part of each other's healing -
And the red bird sings.


  I turn to make my descent ...

I see you clearly in the afternoon sun
You are happy; I sense the joy in your smile
Your hand steady upon my shoulder
As you point me to my family;
Our family-
And the red bird sings.

  ~ For your love and prayers, always... Thank You!
 The red bird sings.

Alicia O'Hara
c. 31 May, 2014


~ Beannaichte'
16 May, 2017
  

@beannaichte.twitter.com

"Confiteor: A Country Song"

Evening.  Red sky.  Standing at the door.

I sense a shadow presence here:

the one who loved this land before.

Those harmless hills bear scars of war.

Someone stood here, full of fear.

This is not a metaphor.

Above me, turkey vultures soar;

below the garden, seven deer. 

Someone loved this land before.

loved it as I do, maybe more. 

She did not simply disappear

and she is not a metaphor.

This was some woman's home before

pale soldiers came to clear

a land that someone loved before.

What to do with facts like this?  I ignore

them?  Hope they disappear?

Someone loved this land before.

None of this is metaphor.

~ Patricia Monaghan

U.S.A./ Ireland  

~ Beannaichte'

11 May, 2017

 @beannaichte.twitter.com

"if' i"

"if"
i  looked through your eyes,

would  i see the Hunter's Moon; in awe of its beauty and mystery

would the Stars hold a Mystery; my eyes fixed to the Sky

would the Sun burn with the Fire of Ten -Thousand Suns

would my face be washed Clean with Tears, because of this Beauty

would i  Smile from a place, deep Inside-
 Knowing, i  have Touched the Sacred Mystery, "if".

"if" i  looked through your eyes

would i walk the Path; Moonlight Guiding each footfall

would the Stars be  the truest of Diamonds 

would the Sun impart Healing, with Eternal Light

would i Touch my Tears and not be ashamed

would i Smile  from a  place, that runs Deeper than Rivers-

 would i  Know, i have Shared the Sacred Mystery, "if"...


"if" i continued to look through your eyes
would  i  Sway with tall prairie Grasses, that Dance in the Wind
would  i  continue to Stand Tall; akin to the mighty Oak
would i be equally Graceful, as the Weeping Willow
would my Voice resonate with the Gentleness of the Cottonwood
would  i  Smile in the Sunlight, shimmering through Myriad of Treetops-
would  i   Know, i am a  Part of the Sacred Mystery,"if"...


"if"  while looking through your eyes
would i  realise, all Life is Precious
would i be True to the Wisdom of my Ancestors
would i Trace their Footprints, imprinted on the Land
would i  see the Signature of God, everywhere
would i endure Struggle to know Freedom-
would  i  Know  that  Creation is Borne  of Sacred Mystery,"if"...


"if" after Journeying with you
would i  Know  that i  must Look through my eyes
would  i  be Faithful and Cherish  my Vision 
would i  Accept my Woundedness;
 Knowing, this is the Way of  Redemption
would  i  be Willing to Sacrifice Pleasure for Freedom; from self
would i  Know  that Life is a Gift; and Not a given-
would i then, Know;
 Sacred Mystery is Absolute-
 Never Guided,  by a "would",  an "if"- or an "i".


Alicia O'Hara
c. 20 October, 2013 

~ Beannaichte'
5 May, 2017 

@beannaichte.twitter.com