In honour and in memory of such a treasured art,
I try my hand, I paint in oils, I sketch in pastels’ harmonies,.
I bathe in abstract colour-blocks, I swim in primaries,
I make escape in water-coloured dreams.
The pictures of my life show many hues.
My Irish blood is always rustic red,
my melancholy Celtic soul is muted blue,
the green folk, those who dwell amongst my kin
are strongly balanced, simply steadfast, made secure,
so all who dance among their calming verdancy
will feel at home, serene and sure.
There have to be some yellows, just to please
as, tinged with joyfulness, they dazzle;
and browns so warm they're silky smooth like chocolate
but sometimes turn the darkest grey,
like sludge, become immutable.
Angelic children bring a lightness in their wake,
they shine with brightness, energy and verve.
I paint them rainbowed, decked with crystals, indigoed,
for only they can lift my spirits high enough to fly
upon their favoured guardian angels’ wings.
They take me to a special place where I can find
that poet’s Irish peace which comes and drops so slow
and soothes the feeble, hopeless efforts
of a would-be artist’s, wild, enchanted heart.