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 Jun 2023 Crow
Caroline Shank
We will have a moment to
shape voice and touch
around the space
in which our kisses find us,

so you turn to me when
reaching,

warm in two AM sheets
holding our breathing
tight in the night's sky.

We belong to the heat,
to the sounds
that run swift and
sure as the constellations
to our skillful embrace

and love.

perhaps?

Caroline Shank
6.16.2023
 Jun 2023 Crow
Donall Dempsey
CRÚISCÍN...CÍSTÍN BAISE
(LITTLE JUG...LITTLE PALM CAKE)    

Auntie Mary’s
currant cake & blackberry jam

“Mmmmmmmm”

The jewels in the crown
of our forever summer

holiday

precious Corkonian objects
brought back to the lowly lowlands of the Curragh.

All the blackberries
that ever were

bursting with sunshine
& childhood

Jumping into
the jar for her
as if it were
an honour.

They & I
transformed by her

love
& lovely laughter

cake baked
with smiles & chuckles

winks & singings.

Me on her knee...tiny
being kissed to bits

Me being devoured
by an enormous hug

smothered in bosoms
many many yellow flowers on her purple pinny.

Her blowing my curls
out of the way

so that her smile
could kiss me

more &
more...er!

Me unable to
comprehend anything

of her
Cork accent.

Me saying “Yes..? ”  &  “No..? ”
in all the wrong hilarious places

(to my great embarrassment
& her great amusement)    

her breath
tickling my cheek

telling me
she loved me
...loved me...

& that I looked
so good

she could
“...ate me! ”

*

(
Homely little terms! A little jug of milk and a little cake in the palm of your hand.)    

A cístín baise is a little cake made on the side of the griddle especially for the child...eh...“helping” with the baking.

This was written for my Aunt Mary who passed away recently leaving me with nothing but the memory of her love...her all abiding love...that not even her death can diminish. I simply adored her.

The Cork accent is like fast fluent French cross pollinated with sing- song Welsh...almost impossible to understand unless you are immersed in it for a couple of months! But of course she would also play with me and make up a whole lot of what they call in Cork... “glig glag”...silly talk.

She was so easy to love.

A child’s delight!
 Jun 2023 Crow
Donall Dempsey
"BORNE BACK CEASELESSLY INTO THE PAST"

Here
(in the here and now)

the Present
nails down

the reality of everything
it sees.

It fixes this sun
to that sky.

A bird breaks
free from the trees.

The lake lapping
at her sandalled feet.

Her watch tells her
it is five past three.

Her sunburnt face.
Its constellation of freckles.

She can not see
this time

ever ending. . .

But it does.
It did.

Now fifty years
have come and gone.

Things float away
into the past.

The sky has been
replaced

by a sky
newer than the one she'd known.

The bird has flown away.
The trees cut down.
The lake no longer knowing her.

She does not have time
tied to her wrist.

She dislikes trapping the world
in tick tocks.

Her face pale now.

Forgetting who
she had been.

She looks at herself
in black and white.

A stranger
stares back.
Mastmaula - The happy go lucky little turtle

On the beaches of Konkan
Lived a few families of turtles
For ages it has been their home .

Amongst them lived Mastmaula a young and adventurous turtle
To explore the surroundings he loved, popular and lovable , a friend to all .
Many a times he would stray away and had to be fetched by the elders in the group .

He loved visiting  the homes of the fishermen who lived by the sea.
Particularly fond of cabbage fed by the fisherwomen .

Amusingly he was also fond of music .
And loved to dance

The fishermen went fishing by the day
And would celebrate  the catch and their life by evenings .
Music played  and seafood savoured in almost every home.

Mastmaula was sure to visit, the fisherman 's house when there used to be a party.
One of the evenings , there was one going on in one of the houses , music was loud with party lights on.
And ,the food yes cabbage in colours, purple and green ,
Mastmaula knew would sure be part of the menu.

The fisherman's family had guests coming from afar
The occasion , an engagement ceremony .
As the music went on , Mastmaula went turtle and began to spin.
And sure he did have a few amazing moves , which caught the guests' eyes
And one of them ,fancied  carrying Mastmaula to their home.
The host opposed but the guest's  7 year old daughter Mili loved Mastmaula and wanted him to be part of her family . The host reluctantly obliged.

Soon , it was dark and a bale of turtles were out to fetch back Mastmaula home. They knew where to  find him.
Reaching the party venue and not finding him there they panicked and soon swelled in numbers.

The fishermen family knew it was time to call their guest ,who had taken away  Mastmaula .
The guest hurriedly came back with Mastmaula in a little basket and placed him down .
Mastmaula was overjoyed to reunite with his family and promised them all that he would never stray away and be careful of his visits alone to the fishermens homes.
Have always told self invented bed time stories to my boys .
My older son , Amitabh has been fond of 'The Hare and the Tortoise' since he was a toddler , have told him many , cause he always to listen to a new version .
Last night came up with this story of a young turtle .
I haven't ever written any story so far . This is the first that I have documented and so thought of sharing here on HP.

My mother tongue /Native language is Hindi .
Narrated the boys this story in Hindi .

MastMaula means -Happy go Lucky

Dedicated to both my sons , Amitabh and Anshul  :)
Thank you all for reading
A sheep in wolves clothing
With that fake I.D.
May be the most
Dangerous of them all
It doesnt make me
Suspicious of you
Just afraid you'll get
Eaten alive
My mind went dark for a bit. Be careful out there.
 Jun 2023 Crow
Anais Vionet
I drew stick figures
things were simple

in a pencil world
mistakes were erased
you could start over

but an inchmeal awareness nagged
- the sky isn’t gray, it’s a liquid blue

but crayons were complicated
you couldn’t erase things
mistakes were irrevocable.

and there were 148 colors in the big box
keeping them in rainbow order was work.

growing up is hard
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Inchmeal: gradual, or little by little
 Jun 2023 Crow
Unpolished Ink
Dance me to the music playing soft inside our heads
rock me to the sound of words much better left unsaid

Catch me as our feet tread light on old familiar ground
starry eyed and moonstruck as you spin me round and round

Remember me in better days that now have come and gone
waltz me to forever so our tune can carry on

Kiss me when the lights have dimmed and the tempo starts to slow
dance with me one final time, hold me don't let go
Thank you Leonard C for the inspiration
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