Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Every Now And Again

Every now and again
I look at you,
Captured there in a moment,
Smiling,
Mid sentence,
Mine,
The way I remember you.
And I think of those days
Those days
Those days when we were young,
Those days when all we needed,
And all we had,
Was each other and a dream

Every now and again
I think of late night talks,
And starry island nights
And promises made,
If not to you
At least to me,
And if not believed by you
At least by me,
Only to be dismissed in later days,
Alone,
And seen,
As you did back then,
As romantic notions
Dreamed of
In romantic places.

Every now and again
I look at you,
And wonder,
And pause,
And drift away,
And feel that old familiar feeling.
But all too soon it fades,
Surrendering to another pause,
One that reminds of today,
And yesterdays that are gone,
Put away like your photographs,
And memories
That can only be relived
Briefly.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Graveyards

No one runs in a graveyard.
No one shouts.
It is peaceful,
Calming,
Walking amongst those who came before.

Tip toe and listen to the silence,
Whisper the names of those you meet.
For most of those you chance upon,
You are their only visitor,
Save the daily procession of  new arrivals.

Who were all these people?
What lives did they live,
The same as I do now?
Did we share the same fears?
And joys?
And hopes?
And dreams?

Did they live lives fulfilled
Or take regret with them?
If given one more day to live,
What is it do you suppose they would do?
Where would they visit?
Who would they see?
What words of advice would they speak?
I can only imagine it would be magnificent,
Throwing off all the veils of a superficial life,
And living for one more day,
A lesson learned only in death.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Night Flight

I saw you last night.
When our eyes met,
You smiled.
It was a gentle smile,
The kind you wore so long ago.
There was no surprise in your smile,
As if our meeting was not by chance.
You sat beside me,
We talked of trivial things,
Our arms touching briefly,
Then lingering.
But nothing more;
But still …

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

A Hand To Hold

A short time ago my six-year-old daughter’s teacher told her that she’d soon be old enough to walk to class by herself, and not “drag” her poor dad along all the way from the car. I was within earshot of this at the time and casually smiled it off as a nonoccurrence.  But for some reason this morning it came back to me, and the profoundness and fragility of such an utterance hit me hard.  It occurred to me that I never want my daughter to feel so grown up that she wouldn’t want me to walk somewhere with her.  I never want her to be so grown up that she doesn’t want to hold my hand in front of her friends, or give me a kiss and a hug goodbye in the morning, or be embarrassed by me when I goof around with her in public.  I want to be with her until I take that last walk with her down the aisle, and hand her off to whomever she chooses to be her life partner … and even then, I’ll have problems letting go.

I remember the first morning I saw you
Taking your first peek at the world
And the look of confusion
And a face full of questions
But no fear.

I remember it was raining
A typical Irish day
Though it was June
And in my heart, I knew
That my life was now not my own.

I remember phone calls made and one line texts
Telling those who cared that all was well
Five fingers five toes and eyes that were mine
And making plans to wet the baby’s head
Old Irish traditions live long

I remember Granny
And the first time she held you
In the sun lounge where the sun seldom shines
And her smile speaking volumes
The way only a granny’s smile can

I remember your first day in school
And tears that were shed
And wondering where the years had gone
And why so fast
And becoming fearful of a future without you

I remember all of your days
Your first steps
Your first fall
Your first words
Your first smile
Your first pain
Your first ice cream
Your first everything

When you have grown
And put away those little girl ways
And live in a world of your own making
And no longer need my hand to hold
I hope it is because
I have taught you well.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Pancake Tuesday … Irish Style

There’s one day in the year when my two daughters are allowed to let loose on the candy and ensuing sugar rush (although apparently it’s not the sugar that causes the rush) … Super bowl Sunday! … we plan it for weeks, purchasing a variety of candy, chips, soda, and for me, a boat load of chicken wings.  However, this morning, my sister Barbara, now living in Sydney, sent me an email asking if we had had our pancakes today, today being Pancake Tuesday or “Shrove” Tuesday as it is known outside of Ireland.  I had completely forgotten about it.  Fortunately for me though, my Tuesday was only beginning here in California; Sydney, 17 hours ahead of me, had already celebrated the day, and was tucking itself into bed.  Like Scrooge waking on Christmas morning, rejuvenated by fear of futures thwarted, I immediately smiled, thinking about all those Pancake Tuesdays I enjoyed so much growing up in Ireland … and how my mom would stand for hour on end over her little frying pan and make pancake after pancake for us all … and drown it in sugar and lemon juice … I miss those days.
So, why should the Super Bowl be the only non traditional American holiday we celebrate in the California Prendeville Clan?  No reason at all … That being said, I told the girls, still eating breakfast, that dinner today would be Irish pancakes … they couldn’t believe it and immediately began talking excitedly about such an odd occurrence and treat … Pancakes for them are usually a Sunday morning event, something they never seem to tire of … although those pancakes are the kind that come out of a box … Not tonight though … tonight I’ll make them the way my mom used to, all those years ago in our little kitchen on Woodvale Road … our little borough on the outskirts of Cork … Happy Pancake day people!

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

IRISH PANCAKES

Ingredients
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
2 1/2 cups whole milk
2 eggs
1 oz unsalted butter
Additional butter for frying
granulated sugar
lemon juice

Method
1. Beat the milk and eggs together in a bowl. In another bowl, sift the flour and salt together; add half the milk and egg mixture, stirring constantly.
2. Melt the butter and whisk it in. Whisk in the rest of the remaining milk and egg mixture.
3. Allow the batter to stand at least two hours.
4. Melt 1 tbs butter in frying pan, add 1/4 cup batter and tip until the pan is evenly coated. Keep the pan moving as you cook to prevent sticking. When the underside is golden brown, flip the pancake and cook the other side.
Slide onto an oven proof platter; sprinkle with sugar and lemon juice and then, roll up.
Keep warm in a 300 degree oven until ready to serve.

http://www.irishcultureandcustoms.com/ACalend/ShroveTues.html

A Life Unlived

Oh the times we could have had
They seem so real to me
So clear in my mind
As if already lived.
All the laughs we shared,
And tears too
Memories now lost and unlived,
But clear to me that
Some day
They would have defined my life.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville

Trapped (song lyrics version)

Where are you now,
In these every days?
Are you still you and living
As I used to know?

Give me back those days,
My today’s I will trade,
For they just pass and fill my moments,
Alone.

Outside eyes are peering
Seeing only prim rose shadows.
I am hiding from the world
A life unseen,
Oh I am hiding
A life unseen.

I am growing old,
Life is too,
And I am weary for a past
That’s lost along with you..

Release me to that past
Where I belong with you
My one and only one
I let slip away.

Outside eyes are peering
Seeing only prim rose shadows.
I am hiding from the world
A life unseen,
Oh I am hiding
A life unseen.

© 2008, Tim (P) Prendeville