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We’d cram into Dad’s Austin Wolseley, 

like tinned kippers, unrolled 

and unsalted in the back seat. 

Smoking class was reserved, up front,

on our Sunday pilgrimage to visit Nana.

First to spot the waterfall was the winner.


Ben Bulben was fixed on our horizon,

feeling like a compass point,

it arced our path along the south coast of Donegal.

We never felt far from ho...

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growing upireland

Six Nations Time

Six Nations wake from slumber

As winter turns to Spring

For tribal warfare on the pitch

It’s a Celts and Saxons thing


They’ll be singing hymns and arias

From the Tiber to the Tay

And the week feels that much longer

As we wait for Saturday


And the squads are called together

From places far and wide

There will be sunshine and foul weather

There will be shir...

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rugbysix nationsnostalgiaWALESirelandscotlandenglandFranceItaly

Country file

Lets open up the country file

Lets find a place to go

Get up close to nature

Weather sun or rain or snow

Valley, lake or mountain

There is beauty all around

Yorkshire dale or Lake District

The jewels in Britain’s crown.

Lets get up close to nature

Lets go and explore

On foot or bike or horse back

In land or by the shore

England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales


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Letters with Words

Sky gets brighter

Black dog appears

Calling my name

Whispering as he nears


Words softened, falling

One by one, letters

Clinched, left broken

Fragments and pieces


Captured and glued

A story is breaking

Two sides reconciling

To harmony and healing

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Ambush At Dooney Rock

Anti Treaty IRA forces captured “The Ballinalee” armoured car, and it saw action against the Free State Army in future engagements before being burned out when recapture was beyond prevention. It was renamed “The Wild Rose of Lough Gill”

When we come at the end of time,
To Peter sitting in state,
He will smile on the three old spirits,

– “The Fiddler of Dooney” (W.B. Yeats)


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Irish Civil WarBallinaleeLongfordIreland

A Poem For Spring - Ms. Shannon Frog

Ms. Shannon Frog
(By Paul A M Palmer)
Wintering in the dark
Beneath the rock
Beneath the stone
Beneath the bark
She sleeps
Dreaming of Spring
Amongst the males
Amongst the grass
Amongst the green
She sleeps
No thoughts of fear
About the fox
About the crow
About the stoat
She sleeps
Then in the Spring
Beneath the rock

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BLOG --- Its been a while... since my last confession!

Bless me Father, for I have sinned...
Its been a hell of a long time since my last confession here!

As always with blog posts, it bes a while between them. I call them my "confessions" as it normally sums up what I have been doing in the while before them.

So, for the past year, we have had a number of poetry readings in Tullamore and thereabouts with theTullamore Rhymers Club that I am...

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BlogconfliceIrelandwriters ethcis

I Blame It All On TESCO

(or how men lost their status in relationships)

When dinosaurs walked tall on earth,
And Tesco was yet to be…
Women who wanted meat and shit
Relied on chaps like me…
We gathered up our clubs and spears,
And risked our very lives,
To bring back meat and furry skins
So as to get some loving from our wives…

But then, some bollix invented Tesco,
And the Dino’s all died out,
And things g...

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funny poemwar of the sexsIreland

The Cottage II

Where are we now

Back to square one

Thrown to the beginning

Or have we moved on?


As the season changes

The cycle does reap

An autumnal harvest

That tastes just as sweet


There’s no place like home

Unearthed and unearthly

insecurity and fear still roam

Driven, dark and dirty


Trying to live the dream

Fucking, fighting and broken


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lovelove poemlove poetryIreland

Wedding Day

Stood alone
grounded by grey rock
papoosed tight in your arms
an altar before the Atlantic
commanding, tumulus ocean
serves as our priest


Two shells
brought from sandy shelter
where we consummated our love
gives us two rings to keep
fraught, fragile commitment
regardless of reality


You whisper
echoed by breaking wave
“Just you and me against the world...

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Irelandlovelove poemlove poetry



Paralysed, struck flat on my back
Irish sea sprays up a malady
leaches through impervious skin
And drifts my reliant apathy


Slow boat rocks, judders beneath
Bearing to shadowed grey land
Clouds reach down tentatively
Brushing the back of my hand


Far away, two children mourn
Loss of a mother who slips
Away with waves to another love
Another time, where...

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lovelove poemlove poetryIreland

In memory



Emerald greens

Forgotten dreams


Bacchic delight

Morning plight


Friendlier strangers

Drunken wagers


Calmer living

Always giving


Fantastic craic

Guinness attack


Beautiful island

My Ireland


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A Citizen Peasant Answers a Question of a Man of Graces

If ever you want to wind up an Irishman like me, dress up in full riding gear and refer to yourself and you chums as "gentry". The following poem, while not Shakespeare, retells a story from Tyrellspass in Westmeath beside me where one poor tourist made the mistake...




Can you tell me, sir, a man passing did say
To a citizen of Ireland at his gate one day
When the ...

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irishirelandhuntingpeasentgentryland war

First Holiday in Ireland

 First holiday in Ireland

I don’t remember if I am honest
much about my first holiday there
apart form all of the photographs.

I don’t recall which station it was
all the way down from
Dublin to Belfast
when the train broke down
and we were forced to stand
in a tiny box with
a half working coal fire
for four hours
before they finally



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"Just a Boy" - Toyosi Shittabey Memorial Poem

This is the kind of poem a poet wishes that they did not have to write... this is the kind of poem that gives a poet the reason to write, its why God gave us the ability to write.

A Nigerian immigrant was murdered on the streets of Dublin, Ireland on Good Friday last. This poem is my reaction to the tragedy...




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Did a Spirit Knock On Rossbawns Walls

Did a Spirit Knock
On Rossbawn's Walls?

The story is told that an agent was slain
By a tenant called Delaney who on the run did die
In caves upon Sliabh Blooms wild hills
Many many years gone by.
For sustenance he came down the hill
To his house, outside a window he eat till he was full
And should the Yeomanry or Constab...

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rossbawnghost storyirelandland war

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