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John F McCullagh Mar 2013
Against the sands of Clontarf
You can hear the Ocean roar;
And, within the waves, a whisper,
of men in battle and in lore.

Brian led the men of Munster
that Good Friday, Ten Fourteen.
His opponent was the brother
of his good for nothing queen.

The men of Leinster were allied
with Vikings from abroad.
Mael Morda, king of Leinster
Was the leader of their horde.

Five thousand men of Munster
were arrayed upon the heights.
The foeman came in Dragon ships
And here began the fight.

Brian prayed for victory
as his six sons led his side.
The slaughter was tremendous
And blood red ran the tide.

The Viking, Bodir, found Brian
Kneeling, praying, in his tent .
His battle axe laid Brian low
And soon his life was spent.

The Viking ships were scattered
By the angry, raging sea.
Thus many of their men were drowned
in their attempt to flee.

It was a famous victory
retold in verse and song.
Both sides were decimated
So many brave sons gone.

Our national identity
Was born of this shared past.
Nine centuries were still to come
ere Ireland would be free at last.
( the battle of Clontarf on Good Friday April 23, 2014 was part of a greater struggle for political unification of the Irish . Brian Boru, an ancestor of Ronald Reagan, as well as four of Brian's six sons died in a battle that decimated the men of Munster for a generation. It was a victory in the sense that the losses of the foe were greater and Munster remained in control of the field)
LR Bryan Mar 2020
I sit in silence as the room fills with people.
People I know and people I've never seen.
My Uncle Mael walking back and forth. As he keeps looking at the doors we came in.
My Dad whispering to others while they "wailed" as he called it. Although I'm unsure what that means.
My older brother sitting beside me as he keeps looking at me with concern.
This older boy in a white coat. With this sad look on his face as he walks this way.
This lady whose all dressed up in a fancy dress with golden shoes.
Click. Click. Goes the metal of the ladies' shoes as they clashed with the grey tile.
Bing. ****. Goes the brown clock that hangs on the pale walls.
Hum. Hum. Goes the vents that lay resting on the floor.
Mumble. Grumble. Goes a fancy-dressed dressed man as he silently stares at the fancy-dressed lady.

What's going on here? A family gathering?

I was once a very respected man.
One of great importance and respect.
But, what's happened tonight for which I can only fault myself.
I can't continue to be that here tonight.
All these people are greatly grief-stricken.
Even those completely unaware as of yet.
So that is why I shall remain forever indebted to this family.
Catering to everyone. Even the smallest of children.

What's going on here? A party?

I'm not sure what to think here honestly.
I mean. I'm numb I guess. Am I broken because of this?
Probably not. I'm just not sad per se. Just worried.
Addey seems virtually unaffected by this.
She's probably blissfully unaware of what's happened.
Even as the gurneys flood the hallways.
I'm just concerned she'll catch on.
Her remaining blissfully unaware is for the best.

What's going on here? A movie?

My dear Maddie how I hope you're not mad.
I know that this isn't right nor wrong.
It shouldn't have gone this way.
I sh sh-should've been gone first.
I can't bring you back here.
I can't pick you up and carry you past the threshold of our house like I did when we were 20.
I can't stay up until 12:30 helping you with your degree while we ate popcorn and watched The Notebook.
I can promise you though. I'll watch Addey for you.
I'll make sure someone truthful will carry her across the threshold of her house.
I'll see she has memorable moments with all of us.
I won't let her or anyone forget you.

What's going on here? Why's everyone sad?

They say grief and trauma change a person.
Shapes who they are going forward.
It was my car that caused this.
My decision to wear these heels.
My decision to tell Alec to speed up.
My decision to tell Alec to run the red.
My decision to swerve right. Everything was my decision.
Therefore, I can’t decipher between what’s real and what’s not
And I will spend years trying to save the only good part of me.
I will make up for my decisions.
And forever say sorry to Maddie Le.

What's going on here? Why are we leaving?

Riding back to the house.
Everything looks so surreal.
Like this is our life.
Maddie used to be in this life.
Maddie Le used to be a person, but now she isn't.
And nobody around me seems to be aware of that.
That just 4 hours ago
Mael Watts's twin sister got hit at just 31.
Andy Le's wife got hit with him unscathed.
Braden Le is without a mother at just 16.
Addey Le an Innocent 4-year-old lost her mother.
And two people are plagued with guilt.
And yet nobody in the world reacts.

What's going on here? Why aren't we going home?

Uncle Mael? Dad? Braden?

"Where's Mommy at?"

"Don't worry Addey she'll be back. You just go to sleep."

Addey smiled before staring out the window.
As she looked into sparkled simplicity.
Opinions?
Path Humble Jul 2023
questioning my core competency
_________


man or woman, an irrelevancy,
we all believe that we possess
certain core competencies that
reflect our managerial skills, the
hows of how we organize and smooth
the daily mishmash of our otherwise
would-be-totally-hellish-lives


minor stuff, that have the risk potency
of the skinny tail of the curve, where the
highly improbable
seems to happen as if regularly scheduled.
let the gas tank go to E, worse, unnoticeably,
but on a small isle, with no AAA, a single gas station,
in howling wind, and summer rain mael-strom,
forced to risk a brief trip over hilly terrain, fearful of
being gas poor on the stuck-side of the road, with
no one to call, no savior to summon, and my sense
of self, now shattered-glass on the side of the road.

did I mention that the night prior when the situation
was yellow lit to get my immediate attention, I had
forgotten my instrumental human connectivity, my
Inshallah cell phone (1), at our dining out restaraunt,
making necessary a seven point four mile R/T detour,
to preserve my integrity, pride, communicability, and
the few(er) left, shards of my lesser antilles’ ego and pride.


turns out that even on E, for long periods, you still
can go some distance for the car designers, all liars,
to nice people like me, leave a gallon reserve undisclosed,
for the vain and statically stupid of which I am a member.
more details of my ineptness, shameful, shall not be herein revealed, but when we meet, gladly be disclosed over alcohol.

but it is now between the hours of nine and ten AM, and despite
imbibing 22.5. ozs. of Jamaican coffee, I return to bed,
having made it to the local station with gnawed knuckles,
and chewed lower lip,
lower the shades, announce to no one in particular, hello,
do not disturb, for-up-all-night-poet-ite, is exhausted the
exhaust of depression, for his core competencies have
been renamed, now and forever, his

gored incompetencies!

p.s. E, having consulted the owner’s manual,
stands for more precisely ,
Empty Headed

— The End —