Skip to main content

Posts

Shers on Irish FM radio - Murder On the Rocks!

What fun to be asked to do this radio interview with CRY 104 FM in County Cork while I plugged a murder mystery I'd written and set in Youghal, Ireland.

Murder On The Rocks!
 is the first of what has eventually turned into a 3-part series, entitled: A Felly van Vliet series, named after its protagonist.
Airtime with this County Cork DJ - Stan Notte - ended up with him not only asking about why I'd based this first work in the sleepy little Irish harbour town of Youghal, but also a bit about the writing process and my background as well.
Have a listen to this live broadcast. As the Irish say, it was great craic!
Recent posts

Sleep Well, Little One

©Sherry Gallagher 2017
Sleep well, little one…. they married too soon when sweet waters babbled and promises bloomed, too young to care for what life had in store for a bearded young fool and the wildling adored.
They lived on a prayer that took wing to their lives until bad feather days began moulting from strife. You came to greet them when they were half-done and no longer living on diets of song.
They were too young to value what wisdom had learned, how when boredom sets in it's so easily turned, as chance can spin time into new garments worn and the wildling's no longer when a young beard is shorn.
They knew nothing of this, the secrets of days, and both led their wills through a darkening maze, losing their way and losing their child to what they only knew later would make life worthwhile.
Sleep well, little one…. they married too soon when sweet waters babbled and promises bloomed, too young to care for what life had in store for a bearded young fool and the wildling adored. 
Aisling Books

We are humans for humanity - building bridges, not walls

We are humans for humanity - building bridges, not walls
Kudos to every man, woman and child who organised, promoted and took part in this past Saturday's remarkable event

Though I had to work in another part of the country of the Netherlands during 21 January's Women's (and men's) March on Washington, I was happy to have had a small hand in laying the groundwork for our Dutch protest that I hear ended up having around 3000 plus protesters marching in Amsterdam Saturday. WOW! These numbers may not seem like much to the rest of the world, but for our small country I found it nothing less than fantastic. Thanks to the wonderfully tireless preparations of organiser Petra Benach and her small crew, I too was able to contribute beforehand by passing out flyers and talking to others about the event in hopes of raising awareness as to why it’s been so important to hold a march here in the Netherlands as well. With others I discussed why it wasn't just a national but global p…

The Call

©Shers Gallagher 2016
The days grow colder and my heart grows bolder
to hear the call of the totem wolf, 
though limbs begin to rattle like the branches of a tree
as leaves turn bright before they fade and quietly fall,
drifting down and crumbling into air 
that smells of crackling pine and roasting logs of cedar.
I missed you then as I miss you now. 
But most of all I miss my youth 
and the dance I used to be.
Not the dance of whirring bees,
because I never was a hostile takeover. 
I miss the playful shadows of light
and soft breezes on silken feathers.
I miss the easiness of then, 
though, in truth I’m more physically comfortable now. 
And yet I’d give it all up for only a few more 
playful shadows of twilight and silken days. 

Aisling Books

After Storm Matthew

©Shers Gallagher 2016
...we gather our lives with roots and fronds that we glean and shuck away. Damage assesses as power returns the roofs overhead of family and friends now safe and dry.
We begin again, mattering more than all our treasured gleam collected in hoards of attic-filled piles while the eye of the storm approaches as the evening's thief we’ve been ever watching yet still comes round in one short breath to so easily steal our lives away.
What matters more than only this? To be generous of heart and gracious of mind and exceed beyond the glory of self as we allow all to live in peace and calm to weather another day.

Ardy’s Plight at the Privy – Fairy’s song

Excerpted from 'Uncommon Boundaries: Tales and Verse' ©2012 SM Gallagher
[Dedicated to my granddaughter, Maya Annalisa Trask, turning four-years-old today!]

A large Irish family filled up two of the long pinewood bench tables at the Hare and Hunter - the small medieval fairground restaurant that had a larger than average terrace, catering to the sit-down crowds of wandering festival goers. This particular family appeared to be drinking more than eating, which wasn’t uncommon in the sweltering heat of a midsummer’s day in the shire. 

I sat at the table’s far end, furthest from the congested masses, as it was my short pause from working the lanes as a paid entertainer in fantasy costume, blowing stardust on delighted children, getting into mischief with the locals, and tickling tin whistles and whatnot – all the things one could imagine of a proper fairy of a local shire. During my pause, however, I didn’t want to be bothered for fairy wishes and the like. Instead, I ordered a pint…

I loved you once when we were young....

©2016 S.M. Gallagher
I loved you once when we were young  and dancing under watermelon moons
full to bursting with stolen kisses
for all the honking geese that took flight
across winter ready fields 
perfuming the air with their pungency.

You were no angry-eyed monster to me then
and I no parched lip harpy to you.
We were simply best friends
who delighted in each other's company.

And I will treasure those best friend days
as I no longer dwell on our tragedies
but think of two bright souls,
their cleverer ways remembered
like shining pearls of half-baked wisdom.
And we would inevitably do ourselves in.

I would laugh at you, and you me
for thinking ourselves progenies of starflies.
My eyes, now full of dust, saw more clearly then,
as, these days, I hold no more truths then wishes.
Still…I breathe on and wish you well in passing.