'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Thursday, August 26, 2010


The Futility of War

Grace became the nanny for
  A family in Kerry;
A mansion near Killarney where
  The granny lived on sherry.

The parents led chaotic lives
  That threatened to unravel.
The unrelieved upheaval came
  From constant foreign travel,

Busy sealing business deals
  Or sailing seas on yachts,
Getting tangled up in nets
  And complicated plots.

The kids ran wild with Grace, whose nerves
  Were frayed around the edges.
Sam and Sue put keys in cakes,
  Or so the cook alleges.

They'd try their best to leave a room
  Arranged in disarray,
While Grace despaired, but all would change
  As brunch began one day.

The plethora of crackers placed
  Upon the silver platter
Were swiftly aimed at Grace's face
  And thrown with feeling at her.

Something snapped inside her head.
  Her fury overflowed.
A dark, forbidding mood impaired
  Her caring nanny mode.

She started throwing bread at them.
  She only lost their trust
When she threw wholemeal bread without
  Removing all the crust,

So they threw jam and Parma ham
  And Parmesan, ungrated.
At times like these, when armed with cheese,
  They're frequently elated.

They'll improvise and try to use
  All weapons within reach.
Sam threw shells and batteries
  He'd gathered on the beach.

Grace fought back by throwing books
  And magazines left scattered.
She looked at all the titles though
  Their contents hardly mattered.

The war went on till lunch was served.
  They stopped for soup and salad,
A time for trauma-laden troops
  To sing a mournful ballad.

When they surveyed the mess they'd made
  They felt both pride and shock.
Even Gran had fled to hide
  In her grandfather clock.

Carpets, curtains, rugs and walls
  Were scarred by shards of cake.
They'd smashed to bits the priceless vase
  They dearly hoped was fake.

Chairs had suffered injuries.
  They'd soon be amputees.
They'd have to get new wooden legs
  But they'd get used to these.

Sam and Sue agreed with Grace
  When she proposed a truce.
She cursed the crackers and the force
  Of madness they let loose.

They signed their names to seal the peace,
  The first accord of many.
They promised they'd forget the fight
  And blame the mess on Granny.

Many weeks went by before
  She exited the clock.
Inside she'd found some diamonds and
  A terrier called Jock.

(Another change: I'll be updating this site every three weeks from now on).

Very Slight Stories

Henry Seaward-Shannon

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The Tree and the Horse


Words are my favourite noises

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Sinead Gleeson



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A Walk in the Rain

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