19/06/2026
Considering the Demise of
One Francis Leonard
23.03.1914
today I teased a thread -
uravelled me a story -
of old-time Georgian Dublin - led
me down a path of
industry, propriety and glory -
and found a self-made businessman, bred
generous, and striving -
all while making SERIOUS bread -
to ensure the city's destitute be thrivin -
but I found his reputation, status, cred -
dimmed inexcorably, over clime -
a victim of robustness, lingering instead
of exiting at a favourable time -
his city changed - and as a nation rose - he fled
to nurse his old conventions, and thus gone -
though actively, invisible a hero, he instead -
became an overlooked old relic - dated ghost -
and Dublin hurtled on with trams and rage
and shams and prams and shouts and living wage
and patriots on theatre and stage -
and war loomed, sudden and
the cogs and wheels moved on -
___________
A poignant notice, so: I read -
that he had passed, had fled his gilded cage -
with little fanfare, home in bed -
the (loaded) note said - "at an advanced age" -
it seemed this magnate, once so strong -
had simply - kinda - lived a bit - too long -
so there he was, no in memoriam, no song -
to thank him, praise him -
see him on his ways -
___________
the notice said "no flowers, please" -
and well that might have been to ease -
the old man's wish to fly off - free -
with modest, humble,
meek, simplicity -
but yet - I bowed my head, a bit -
wondering was it just the same old skit -
that all great deeds are nothing, really, much -
and every effort's just a claw, a clutch -
at starry motes, delusion-dust -
and civic trust just rots to rust -
and fragrant flourishes to must -
and mulch, and crud, and crust and -
dank - disgust -
lamenting the absence of obit.
but then - again -
this guy -
(his name was "Leonard" -
and lots of city lands
he careful-tendered)
may have triumphed -
in the end.
here's the why -
Oh so there was a
dearth of graveside mourners -
but his name lives - on
the crossroads' corner!
and despite him falling - like
an autumn leaf - from fame -
still, every Dublin taxi knows his name -
___________
One hundred-fifteen years go by,
and here we are, in FEx, by candle-light -
tracing back a will, a spark - a life -
acknowledging the charities
and institutions kept aloft, alight -
and seeing all these places that he built -
are yet a shelter, though a bit neglected - still a frame -
and al the places visited, and forms he filled -
reflect, on that - prevailing - local name.
That’s not a bad result, for one
forgotten geezer, centuries-on -
and I imagine, per his style -
this tapestry of woven strands -
of history and helpful hands -
of murmured death and -
speculative breadth - and
imbued tragi-comix
ampersands -
my needling the pile -and
stoking up the file - and kindling
sputtery, a pale blue flame -
a while - well -
might just make him - smile.
So here's to Leonard's Corner!
we bequeath,
this humble-bumble
fumble-poem :
a late (forbidden) wreath
and we'll never mind the weather
when we're making work together.
x geomizosi x
