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Showing posts from December, 2012

Smoke and Ash - mag 149

©Shers Gallagher 2013

It wasn't until my teaching year at Moscow State in Russia that I came down with borderline asthma. Since then I've been unable to tolerate even the slightest whiff of acrid smoke, which permeates and freezes my lungs like a poison. I stopped singing in pubs for the lack of being able to catch my breath before the smoking ban became effective in Holland, it being one of the last of the European holdouts due to the vehement protesting of our strong caterers' union in the Netherlands.

People like me were the sufferers all along, not the smokers who never seemed to give a care when others were choking around them. ‘What? You can't breathe? Well, then get the f#@! out of the pub.’ 

I'm hardened by the smoke and ash – the smokescreens of uncaring - having had too much of it blowing non-filtered rings in my direction, occupying my space. So, no. I don't give a care myself about smokers' rights. As far as I'm concerned, when they pollute the…

Road trip! - mag 148

©Shers Gallagher 2013

Road trip in the cold,
all bundled in with the heat turned high—
Sleet rain threatening to burst into crystal
before all turns magic 
and snowflakes dance upon our panes
like drifting screen savers.
The weather is without and we are within.
What could be better
as we cruise down the potholed lanes?

Aisling Books - Magpie Tales

Tick Tock - mag 146

©Shers Gallagher 2012
Rhythms of heartbeat -- living, breathing metronome. I hear the music. Hear it in the throbbing of things: in the hum of the drone, the whir of hummingbird wings and sensuous sound of bees. Feel the quixotic orb. It’s danger, danger everywhere, of which I am a part of, you are a part of. Touch without seeing. Let us dance. 
Aisling Books - Magpie Tales