The bee and the butter cups 

As I sat on the door step this sunlit Sunday evening, 
Very rare in Ireland, 
I was privileged to watch a bee at its work. 
It glided effortlessly from buttercup to buttercup, 
With laser focus. 
Despite the incessant passing of cars, 
The distressed barks from a nearby dog. 
Children disgruntled as they were called in for supper, 
Getting louder because they had homework to do too. 
The bee continued to work. 
Almost capsizing from the glossy petals of each buttercup, 
Like a person a little too plump for a hammock. 
The bees wings glistening in the summer sunshine. 
The wind it began to whip up, 
After all this is Ireland. 
The clouds moving across the path of the sun. 
The clatter of glass garbage, 
The incessant cars once more. 
Blissfully the bee kept going. 
I truly enamoured this marvel, 
I didn’t want to say goodbye, 
I wanted to catch one more glimpse before I went in for the night. 
I hoped it might land on me and transport onto me it’s calm diligent focus. 
I will never forget this phenomenal spectacle of nature, 
I pray we won’t interfere with it to the point of no return, 
I pray I paint from this day forward to the point of no return. 
Improving everyday, 
Blocking out distractions, like my little friend. 
Sweet dreams little bumbling one, 
From the bottom of my hopeful heart, thank you.

Soul Food

I wish Modigliani had known how much he mattered. 
As will all artists, 
And all work that is seen and unseen. 
For even the unseen, added strength to work that will be. 

How brave it is to put your creativity out there, 
Into the big world, 
Not knowing if it will touch someone’s soul, 
Praying with every brush stroke that it might. 

Thinking that your little painting is soothing someone’s mind. 


Perhaps they’ve entered a room with a heavy heart, 
As they gaze at your creation, 
It makes them feel lighter. 

They sit with the painting, meditating, sipping some water gently, they breathe deeply, 
They are able to get up again, 
To give life another try.

Peace

Whilst one sips their first cuppa, 

The house should be quiet, 

Before anyone else stirs, 

So quiet you’d think that no one in the entire world had stirred. 

Peace. 

 

When a brave woman brings life into this world, 

A tranquil environment is imperative, 

Everyone around her supplying strength and calm, 

Setting the tone for the child’s life, 

Peace. 

 

Schools evoking encouragement, and reassurance. 

The design and the layout , 

Where creative ideas thrive, 

Negativity given no chance to survive.  

Sunlight flooding in through large windows, 

Both stimulating and soothing young minds, 

Peace. 

 

Why do most of us go through life forgetting that which is vital, 

Until we reach middle age, 

After so many wasted years surrounded by noise. 

Peace is fundamental to all of us, 

We must have it everyday, 

It is utterly priceless, 

Please, let there be peace.

Ireland

When I lived away, 
London life was so fast, 
Ireland is home, 
Throughout the years I realised, 
I love fresh air, 
Wide open spaces. 
Not into big crowds, 
Or traffic. 


Quiet days and nights are sublime. 
I would never swim away again, 
Like I did as a young fish. 
I’m ready to nestle into a tranquil corner, 
And watch the frantic fish swim by.

Meditation bathtub

My tub is so simple, 
Still I’m grateful. 
Incredibly grateful 
because this is the place, 
most ideas appear. 
I do believe, the simple setting, enables the magic to start. 


My eyes close, 
Ears below the water, 
I begin to meditate, 
The only sound, my heart. 
My brain slows down, 
My soul knows when it’s ready. 


Then it begins, 
Like little gifts, 
Words, colours, 
compositions rise up from the warmth. 


I keep a notebook, 
On a chair beside the tub, 
I mustn’t let this beautiful creativity 
evaporate with the steam,  
as it escapes when I open the door.

All creative content is protected. Any reproduction of paintings or writing is strictly prohibited.