Father’s Day

 

16th June 2013

 

Three brothers, fishermen and best friends, sharing their lives and work, were suddenly taken from their families. Drowned, so close to home.

 

We shared the devastation of this tragedy with the community of this and other villages, towns, and beyond. Mourned the loss of three brothers, laid to rest, on the eve of Father’s Day.

May the souls of three brothers, rest in peace, and God give comfort to their families.

 

 

Lobster pots

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is evening now. I am in a local hotel restaurant overlooking the sea, with my husband and some friends. Momentarily, I am aware of a scent. Aromatic? Yes, I think I know what it is. Most certainly it is pipe tobacco, but no-one here is smoking. Smoking is banned, in all public places, and come to think of it, I haven’t seen anyone smoking a pipe in years, in public or in private, but there it is again.

No explanation. My body responds to the familiar scent with a  sense of well-being,  a relaxed contentment.

My own Father has been gone from this world a long time, but it is not until this morning that I suddenly remember, he used to smoke a pipe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About maskednative

There is a gazebo at the end of the garden. It overlooks the estuary. When the tide is in, sea water pools around seaweed covered rocks. The sound is peaceful, meditative. I drink an early morning coffee, listen to the birds singing morning songs, watch a spider spin his fragile life between timber beams above my head. Even in the harshest of winters, the rise and fall of tides, sun-light on water, movement of sky, cloud, moon and stars, allows an awareness of nature behind the mask of perceived reality. I offer my words and pictures in celebration and gratitude to God, for allowing me a glimpse behind the mask. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bio: Teri Flynn was born in Wales of Welsh and Irish Parents. Educated in England, she moved to Co.Waterford, Ireland in 1997 where her Poetry has since appeared in “The Turning Tide” – an anthology of new writing from Co.Waterford. “Southward” The Journal of the Munster Literature Centre and “Imagine” The Tallow Writers Group quarterly review. Her poetry appears in “Sticky Orchard”, a group effort with Alan Garvey, Jim O’Donnell and Anthony O’Neill and grant assisted by Waterford County Council’s Arts Grant Scheme. “Listening To The Grass Grow” with Jim O’Donnell and Anthony O’Neill was published by Edward Power at Rectory press and most recently, in ‘Murmurings’, Remembering Anthony O’Neil, with Jim O’Donnell and Alan Garvey. Her poem Queen Of The Sea was included in the Chesapeake Exhibition at RUH, Bath, 2011. Figurehead Carver, Andy Peters. Photographic display of Ship’s Figurehead Carvings by Richard Sibley – http://www.tallshipsgallery.com A themed display of her oil paintings and poems entitled Cynefin, were on display in Waterford during The Imagine Festival in 2017. Cynefin-pronounced kuh-nev-in is a Welsh word meaning habitat or place. A place where a being feels it ought to live, where nature around you feels right and welcoming.
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5 Responses to Father’s Day

  1. Tom says:

    The whiff of a pipe … my grandfather, and, for many years, me. I can still smell my grandpa Cummins’ pipe. Mine languish among my books.

    Like

  2. damage says:

    wow, i relate to this…my Grandfather used to smoke a pipe on Christmas eve for as long as I could remember…now almost 10 years after his passing every time I smell a pipe it takes me back to every Christmas eve I remember spending with him…

    Like

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