Doors of Dublin

The Georgian doors of Dublin are famous. Always freshly painted, every door with a personal twist.
I'd be reluctant to knock on the green door, though.

Midnight
one more night without sleepin' -
Watchin'
till the morning comes peepin'.
Green door
what's that secret you're keepin'?
there's an old piano and
they play it hot behind the
green door
don't know what they're doin'
But they laugh a lot behind the green door.
Wish they'd let me in
So I could find out what's
behind the green door.
Knocked twice
tried to tell 'em I'd been there

Door slammed
hospitality's thin there.
Wonder just what's goin' on in there.
Saw an eyeball peepin' through a smokey cloud
Behind the green door

When I said
Joe sent me

Someone laughed out loud
behind the green door.
All I want to do is join
the happy crew behind the
green door.
Midnight
one more night without sleepin'...
Saw an eyeball peepin' through
a smokey cloud...
Wish they'd let me in
So I could find out what's
behind the green door..

Magical Mystery Teacher is hosting Ruby Tuesday 2 together with Gemma Wiseman

Sepia Chandelier

The main church in our town is built in Neo-Gothic / Dragon style.
I love sitting there, admiring new details all the time.
The chandelier is eleven meters high and is supposed to symbolize a king's crown. The twelve lanterns are reminders of the twelve apostles.
I had never even seen the angel sitting in its center until I shot this "macro".
For further details, take a look at the previous post.

Teach Mary is the host of Sepia Scenes,visit her.

Sepia Enchantment

Our family doctor has rented this marvelous art decor town house for his practice.
The clean pillars, the swung lines, and suddenly the gargoyles are making faces at us, when we visit. There are also some beautiful stained glasses. I'll use them for Ruby Tuesday.

A Gargoyle's Tears

Sunday, October 27, 2002

The tears of an ancient gargoyle,
perched on a ruin's wall,
frozen there by nature's hand,
condemned to never fall.

The gnarled and eerie features
of it's stony, staring face,
though worn by time, still give us pause
in this cold and lonely place.

What ancient craftsman fashioned this,
what nightmare caused his mind,
to give this creature angel's wings,
then sculpt it's face unkind ?

What spiteful muse did whisper
and guide the maker's hand
to loathesome brow, to leering grin
and evil crouching stand ?

Eyes that only seem to glare
in anger at the fate,
that gave it only ugliness,
then made it sit, and wait.

In cold eternal silence,
it's tears the only trace,
of a soul forever hiding,
the truth, behind the face

Patricia A. Boudreau.

Teach Mary is the host of Sepia Scenes.
Visit her!