The irrepressible Kristine Byrne

I met Kristine Byrne years ago on Facebook. When she was in New York, she visited Akram and me in our apartment, and we had a good time talking and eating some Mexican takeout. She lives in Ireland, has a wonderful garden, is an artist, and like all artists she is always creating something, which includes her posts on Facebook. Her Facebook page is like her studio where you are invited to come in and visit. There are sketches, photos, thoughts, poems, drawings, and AI experiments.

Here are eleven of her FB posts during the month of December and the end of November. I want to include more of Kristine’s work on the blog; this is the beginning. 

P.S. You can click on every picture to enlarge them.


Hang Ten.

When surfing through the sea of life,
Hang ten,.she said to me.
When all the slippery slopes
And ragged rocks endanger you,
Hang ten…she said..and earnestly.
But when the Black Rose
beckons you…
Let go…she said. Float free,
she said…
Towards Eternity.

28th Dec, 2022

Shallow as the pool beneath my feet
I sit …with mighty creatures of the deep
Heads low and weary
Close to death,..they wait.
How long will all this take?
They ask. I cannot speak.

20 Dec. 2022
Hi-TECHPOINT pen and caran d’ache pencil


Even freezier than freezier here today.
Extreme climate. Effects the little grey cells…
according to Poirot…and, being Belgian, he knew a thing or two!

December 13, 2022


My iPhone, which seems to have a spirit of its own, took this pic … Reflection on my art stained desk.

Caption: Am I drowning Ma?
December 12, 2022 at 4:34 PM



Whatever happened to Myrtle ?
I wondered…year on year.

We were old school friends…
She lived in Rathmines…and…
I lived quite near…but then..
We went our own ways..
And we both disappeared…

Until…after much adventuring,
I came to live in Ferns…that strange
and eerie place of inbreds..and old farms..

It was a day in Spring…I wandered in,
to gaze upon the gravestones of the Church.
Grey church…grey stones..dandelions
and daisies in the grass.

And as the low spring sun…
Shot darts across my eyes…there..there..
I saw her name…
Myrtle lying all those years
In Ferns..too young…too soon to pass.
And miles from Dublin city,
That old cradle of our pasts.

At home..I rang a friend…
Is that ‘our’ Myrtle’s name I read.
Lying all these years,..under the sods of Ferns…
Is she really there …and dead ?
A car crash…said my friend…. that was her end.

And now I think of Myrtle….and..
Her youthful face…
Reflecting how not one of us..
Can ever know our fate…

And every time I passed the church…
I put a few wild flowers on her lonely grave.

(A story from the mid 1990’s)
11 Dec. 2022
Pencil Drawing..which I cannot photograph well…annoying..but you get the gist


Many a lovely flower
is born to glow
in a field of
lovely flowers…
near to you.

Woman of the Field

December 9


I placed my heart upon a hill
And watched it blow away.
December is the month of chill.
The skies are pounding winter grey…
Oh heart be warm out there..
Olay Olay..Olay…
Oh heart…be cleansed out there.
Be free to dance, rejoice
In our fugacious transitory..
Oh heart… release all that is temporal
Be timeless in eternity,
Oh heart…be light and blissful bright,
Float free of all anxiety.
And me…dear liberated heart….
Please do return to me.

6th Dec. 2022



More play-school. These geometric shapes turned into a Park called Paradise.
ps. I’m tempted to remove the taller figure…what do you think?

Dec. 4


One Minute.

My lungs…still working after all…
My heart still beats… alone
in rhythm to the great unknown.
I’m standing at the kitchen sink
I’m washing up a knife…a fork,
And then a spoon…a plate
And looking out the window
at the garden gate..old..
With it’s peeling paint.
I see the wretched trees, the rain..the gale..
Small birds, sparrows, warblers, tits…
Flying, dashing on the wing…and I….
Begin to sing …
‘I was born by a river,
In a little tent..and just like that river
I’ve been running ever since’
as I watch the water flow …from kitchen basin
To the sink.
Like time…
Where does the water go? Where…
Does it go?
And this…in just one minute…
By the kitchen sink.

9.30 am Nov 26th. 2022.

Rain. Thunder. Lightning. Storm. Winds. Power cuts..
I’ve been in bed all morning with Neck Pain.
Do not ask who HE is!

Thanksgiving Day.


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