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Showing posts from November, 2013

Lilac and Musk

© Shers Gallagher November 2013

Her scent is lilac and musk 
and as purposefully lingering 
as a Parisian city on display. 

Hers is a happy soul,
an English waltz in a world of entangled Frenchness
which goes no further than a simple love of dance
led away from all the rumbas of despair.

As clouds diminish over Montmartre
she does not struggle with the stars
that perform for shadows of lightning 
and echoes of thundered applause.

It is enough, she thinks, to simply play.

Aisling Books

3 Cheers to Jack the Lad – He Did Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night

©Shers Gallagher -November 2015 
Jack lost his mother from cancer when he was 10 and was rejected by a vain divorced father who'd remarried without clarifying to his young bride that, besides the baby girl in his arms, he had three other children – all boys.
Jack was my dad, turned street urchin during the Great Depression, who lived with two older brothers in boys homes. This made Dad a little boy survivor, who sometimes camped out at houses of those feeling sorry for this blue-eyed, blond and scruffy ruffian. He boxed as a hobby, receiving what was called the 'flea-weight' title: 'Dynamite Jack' along with his middle brother: 'Smiling Bob' - and the papers called their act in the ring 'a knock-out'.

While still primary school age, Dad delivered papers by day to theatre moguls such as Mr Mayer of MGM Studios. Remember the lion? []. And he and his brothers had little time for self-pity. In those days, the day…