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Mary Murphy Poem
My father was born,
Late on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day,
Inspiring nurses to insist the babe’s name be Patrick,
To which, my grandparents laughed and chose to obey.
Decades later,
When my parents had their first son,
Though the birth be in October,
The life of another Patrick, Pat Jr., begun.
Every St. Patrick’s Day has a special spark,
Because it is part of some family names,
Attached to cherished loved ones,
With identities inspired by the remarks of clever medical dames.
Both men are animated when they tell a yarn,
Have charisma in spades,
Are good with their hands,
And are talented at trades.
When you talk to either,
It is easy to see what is the same,
Between the two of them in how they interact,
Evidence of how special the tradition of namesakes remains.
Patricks can be the life of any party,
Their funny stories are the best,
They exclaim and use hand gestures,
Beam with pride genuinely and at the audience’s behest.
The stories sometimes involve classic cars,
Hunting trips that went bad,
Being stranded on the highway,
Hitchhiking like a Vietnam War draft-avoiding collegebound lad.
Or working outside on a project,
And meeting a politician who did not win,
Saying something quick-witted in the moment,
Once the words were out, they could not be put back in.
Some stories involved crawling under thorny rose bushes,
And riding in or watching holey canoes,
Watching the lost vessels sailing down the river,
Having to wring water out of soaked clothes and shoes.
Terrible situations made the best jokes,
I arrived to the gym parking lot and my truck was leaking gas,
“So I was a Molotov cocktail today”,
Learning to laugh at trouble helps it more easily pass.
Stories convey affection,
Sometimes in how they are told,
In who is featured and described,
In memories too precious to ever be sold.
Admitting mistakes,
Or ignorance before,
Is great material for writers,
And the storytellers of yore.
Laughter makes light,
What may of, at the time, felt dark,
Reinvents and marinates it in humor,
Which tastes better and sings like a lark.
So Irishmen, tell your tales,
Dazzle your friends and bar mates alike,
Smile about your blunders,
And never relinquish that mic.
Retelling stories,
Can details switch,
Like the game of telephone,
Inaccuracies be rampantly forgiven, for the ears the stories enrich.
Grab your beer stein,
Or your alternative beverage of choice,
Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day joyously,
And give your humorous tales voice.
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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Mary Murphy Poem
Extraordinary people hide,
The beauty they most treasure inside,
Instead, they pay attention around,
To a wonderful world rich with sound.
Hide and seek can be fun for awhile,
Inside the mind, magicians beguile,
Around the world challenges the brain,
Sound manifests around us like rain.
Great, good, most always misunderstood.
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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Mary Murphy Poem
There are many times,
When we are stuck,
Like when a player exclaims, “Checkmate!”,
And our king falls, as it is struck.
At that point,
The game is lost,
It is over,
Despite how we were flossed.
There are also moments,
When we need to perform it right,
There’s only one chance,
To match time and heart’s delight.
One of those occasions,
Might be to propose,
At the best table and perfect place,
Words resonate, hearts beat, & hands enclose.
Maybe it is a heavy decision,
That needs to be made,
Once spoken,
The ripples of it will never fade.
As time moves forward,
It never rewinds,
Wrinkles become more prominent,
No matter the potion she uses and finds.
As Earth exists,
Forces like wind and rain,
Erode the land in some places,
In other places, there are gains.
What was once before,
Never completely stays the same,
Change is the only constant,
With any true aim.
The Point of No Return,
Brings to mind being surrounded by singing trees,
Because I ignored the forest signs,
While lost sheep had my mind in a state of unease.
Sometimes we are trapped,
Physically in one place,
Others impede our escape,
And even make chase.
Is the Point of No Return,
A moment, an event, a place, a choice,
A state of being, a truth, what we see,
Or simply the time at which we lose voice?
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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Mary Murphy Poem
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(({{{@}}})) % Roses say a lot,
Both in scent and how they look,
..””””.. <{{(((@)))}}> Admire all of her
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Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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Mary Murphy Poem
The Spartan Queen Leda,
Attracted many an eye,
Both mortal and immortal,
From the land or Mount Olympus in the sky.
Zeus changed shape,
Approached Leda as a beautiful swan.
He seduced the Spartan Queen,
Which led to an expecting phenomenon.
Instead of one bun,
Her oven had two,
Immortally handsome Pollux and knockout Helen of Troy,
Or, “Oh, what Trojan battles will ensue!”
Beautiful twins,
One with beauty that would drive all men mad,
The other could physically knock others out.
Boxer skills, more than looks he had.
On the same night, mortal man Tyndareus,
Fathered the other twin set,
Mortal Castor and Clytemnestra,
Matching first name letters is where familial similarity frets.
Castor, the skilled horseman,
Close with his immortal brother,
Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife,
Until murder became her whim with her lover another.
Clytemnestra invited Aegisthus into her bed,
While husband Agamemnon was away at war.
Agamemnon, the Commander of Greek forces,
Once home, did not expect to become a subject of gore.
However, in the end, Clytemnestra,
Did not emerge from her misdeeds unscathed.
Her son Orestes with sister Electra,
Conspired and murdered her, as punishment for how she misbehaved.
Elsewhere and elsewhen, twin battles ensue,
Castor and Pollux battled men two,
Over two women,
And a terrible nightmare came true.
Mortal Castor was stabbed,
By Lynceus with a sword,
Pollux was devastated,
A request from his heart poured.
Pollux approached Zeus,
Told him the loss of Castor cut him like a knife.
He asked to share his immortality with his brother,
Because their bond was larger-than-life.
Zeus sent both brothers,
Up to the starry sky,
To traverse the Heavens together,
Becoming the twins Gemini.
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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Mary Murphy Poem
Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise,
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art !
Unpredictable seas with droplets that spray oh how the sharp rocks being where they lay,
Affects how sea nymphs stalk and capture their prey as if it were, a play !
Restless winds pervade the air oh how the clouds suggest a dare,
Looking like sheep jumping over fences oh how it stirs the sky and senses !
Crackling fire illuminating the shadows of the night oh how with mysteries of the light,
Animals will watch the humans make camp as if each camper is, a scamp !
Powerful gaze holding years of hope oh how with vulnerability and the will to cope,
Looks knowingly into the void as if it were, a mental sanctuary to be employed !
Unstoppable magnetism attracts us to one oh how unexpected, powerful and fun,
When cupid’s arrow aims for you, there isn’t much that you can do !
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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Mary Murphy Poem
Acrobatic birds can dive energetically for glucose,
Even as the felines watch,
Waving their tailfeathers in the air,
To their perch, they add another notch.
Felines gain hope, inspiring jumpy keen longing,
The birds keep teasing the predators,
Flying lower as if doing the limbo,
Despite tempting fate, shunning grim reaper creditors.
Masterful nature offers perches quaintly, rightly spaced,
The birds take breaks from sweet drinks,
Fly lower, eating little leaf gnats,
Watching the cats snicker, as wingbeat winks.
Radiant songbirds travel ubiquitously, valiant warriors,
Beautiful as they fly, spreading song,
Despite teasing the cats on the ground,
A day without these creatures would feel too long.
Copyright © Mary Murphy | Year Posted 2025
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