Category: Melancholy Thoughts
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the four green fields blog14: the goddesses of the moon
[Unenhanced photo of the moon. Sailing west, looking south. The North Atlantic Ocean. Photo is mine.] Whenever people look at clouds they do not see their real shape, which is no shape at all, or every shape, because they are constantly changing. They see whatever it is that their heart yearns for. ~~Eduardo Agualusa, A…
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the four green fields blog5: a poet’s grave
[A roadside flower, ready to spread it’s seed. Co Sligo, Ireland. Photo is mine.] When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; ~~from When You are…
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the walking stick: father’s day 2025
I never wanted a Guinness more than the moment when I reached the bottom. ~~ Paul Egan. Upon finishing his climb of Croagh Patrick. [Paraphrased] Once upon a time, when I was a young boy, my father gave me a ‘beaver stick’. For my readers who have never had or seen a beaver stick, it…
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Poet from the north country
No quote necessary… ~~Patrick Egan [Photo credit: Google search.] This morning I was reading an article in The Guardian about Amazon Echo (Alexa). It was written by a journalist from the UK. I learned how much that is spoken by me and Mariam is stored in a server…somewhere. The writer told of how he now…
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i went down to the demonstration…
to get my fair share of abuse. ~~Mick Jagger [At the New York Public Library Main Branch. 42nd St. & 5th Ave. Photo is mine.] I told a few people that we were going to the Hands Off demonstration at Bryant Park. Some commented: “Be careful.” “Don’t take a backpack. Not the thing at a…
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Peter, Lenny & pat’s big adventure
[The route. The dark blue line. Disregard the time notation. Source: Google Maps.] “I remember it was up hill all the way.” ~~ Lenny Schmidt “There is a cow outside of our tent.” ~~ Patrick Egan Oh, the exuberance of youth! The innocence of the young! The pure and wild wind in our hair and…
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To keep you from being homesick
[The found photograph. By unknown photographer, probably my father.] The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect, and as for that object, it depends upon chance whether we come upon it…
patrickjegan 