logo
   Web Issue 3149 May 16 2008   
spacer




Taoiseach Ahern quits after 11 years in office

Senan Hogan

Taoiseach Bertie Ahern officially stepped down from office last night after tendering his resignation to Irish president Mary McAleese at her official residence in Dublin.

Mr Ahern, who has served 11 years, announced last month that he would be leaving his position amid a deepening crisis surrounding his personal finances.

The 56-year-old is expected to be succeeded by Finance Minister Brian Cowen after a Dail parliament vote today.

Mr Ahern spent five minutes being greeted by Mrs McAleese in the state drawing room. It took just 20 seconds for the Premier to sign his resignation letter which he then handed to the president. They then returned to the drawing room for a 30-minute meeting with Mrs McAleese, her husband Martin and officials.

Mr Ahern spoke only briefly to reporters.

He said: "I just want to thank you all for following me for so many years, and thanks for your courtesy.

"And slan (goodbye)."

Earlier Mr Ahern met Stormont First Minister Ian Paisley to open the Battle of the Boyne heritage Centre in County Meath.


© All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited.


Posted by: allymax, yuk on 1:22am Wed 7 May 08
Sliding into the doorway
allymax Zoo8
Sliding into the doorway,
Half lit by street-light and grace
Settling down, the night once more to face

Tonight again, feasting on the sins of his days
Hopeful of joyous memories
To ease him from this place

Swigging from the mean-canteen
Reminds him of the hurt he has
Homeless, absent, missing
His only world now; full of space

The plans he made as a young dad
To protect, and fortify
The family, their youth and growth was his dream
Still is, as the years go by

SHOUTS AND SWEARS
As if that will nullify tears
He knows many places, many spots
Where many homeless place their lots
They all have their 'thing'
Drugs, alcohol, can't halt the sting
But, still, the homeless feel more than real
They talk to themselves, they talk to the night
They ask God what's wrong, what's right


Gulps, grunts of umbrage, exorcising laws
The force of femocracy and its cause
God wins again, the establishment blood spilled
A nation of Scots? No more hurt for 'yer-man' in a kilt

Smiling wryly, all the med's begin to work
No need for umbrage nor exercising torque
He is grateful for the easiness
His life has allowed him guilt

He stares out, to passers-by in the rain
He knows he can see them, but he is in refrain
There, but by the grace of God, go I, he says

Sliding into the doorway, I'm not absent, just missing
Fond memories of family life, Him, me a father, traditional ways;
Sliding out of the doorway, love unconditional, to a better place.



Inspired by Scotland's fathers/absent/missi
ng/hero's with a duty of God.

To my brother Mal; in the hands of our Father.

italic]allymax / allymax. All rights reserved.
Posted by: allymax, yuk on 1:44am Wed 7 May 08
This is for JBlackley, just in case she missed it.


Posted by: allymax, yuk on 5:29pm Tue 6 May 08
JBlackley, you said, "One question for you - when you return to this world: What role does the self - self determination, self-control, self-awareness - play in this state-run world of yours?" ****** For 'self' , see Jessica Benjamin; An Outline of Intersubjectivity: The Development of Recognition. For 'self determination', see 'Minitrue' and 'Doublspeak' ; 1984. For 'self control', see 'The origins and Sociology of the Early Buddhist Philosophy of Moral Determinism', V. P. VARMA Phlosophy East and West 13, no. 1, January 1963. (c) by The University Press of Hawaii. p.25-47. For 'self awareness', see 'HAL 9000' , '2001 A Space Odyssey'. Moreover, when I said 'I'm rarely out of this world for an hour or so", I meant the cyber-world, However, your cynical repost did remind me of something I still hold dear to my heart. A 'Times' newspaper reporter interviewed a widow of a poet, and it was published in spring 2001, (sorry, can't remember the month). The reporter asked what her husband was like, her reply was, " it's difficult to say, he was very rarely with us in this world'. And, to give you a clue as to who the poet was here's one of his poems; can you guess who he is? When the trees do laugh with our merry wit, And the green hills laugh with the noise of it, When the meadows laugh with the lively green, And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene, When the greenwood laughs with the voice joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by, When Edessa, and Lyca, and Emilie, with their sweet round mouths sing ha, ha, he, When the painted Birds laugh in the shade, Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread; Come live and be merry and join with me, To sing the sweet chorus of ha, ha, he.
JBlackley, you said, "One question for you - when you return to this world: What role does the self - self determination, self-control, self-awareness - play in this state-run world of yours?"
******
For 'self' , see Jessica Benjamin; An Outline of Intersubjectivity: The Development of Recognition.

For 'self determination', see 'Minitrue' and 'Doublspeak' ; 1984.

For 'self control', see 'The origins and Sociology of the Early Buddhist Philosophy of Moral Determinism', V. P. VARMA
Phlosophy East and West 13, no. 1, January 1963.
(c) by The University Press of Hawaii.
p.25-47.

For 'self awareness', see 'HAL 9000' , '2001 A Space Odyssey'.

Moreover, when I said 'I'm rarely out of this world for an hour or so", I meant the cyber-world, However, your cynical repost did remind me of something I still hold dear to my heart. A 'Times' newspaper reporter interviewed a widow of a poet, and it was published in spring 2001, (sorry, can't remember the month). The reporter asked what her husband was like, her reply was, " it's difficult to say, he was very rarely with us in this world'. And, to give you a clue as to who the poet was here's one of his poems;


When the trees do laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hills laugh with the noise of it,
When the meadows laugh with the lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,

When the greenwood laughs with the voice joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by,
When Edessa, and Lyca, and Emilie,
with their sweet round mouths sing ha, ha, he,

When the painted Birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread;
Come live and be merry and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of ha, ha, he.

can you guess who he is?
Add your comment
Please note: to publish your comment you must be registered on this site. If you are already registered, please enter your details below.
Email:
Password:




spacer
 IN YOUR AREA
 
Herald Appointments - Every Friday
Travel Shop
Airport Parking
Travel Insurance
Copyright © 2008 Newsquest (Herald & Times) Limited. All Rights Reserved   
Sitemap :: Circulation :: Syndication :: Advertising :: About Us :: Terms of Use