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
Saturday 26th May 2018 5:19 pm
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
Tuesday 28th November 2017 8:13 pm
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)
Sunday 6th November 2016 4:42 am
Sunday 22nd May 2016 9:23 am
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 part of, an...
Tuesday 22nd July 2014 1:17 pm
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...
Tuesday 12th November 2013 2:23 pm
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...
Sunday 3rd March 2013 8:20 am
grounded by grey rock
papoosed tight in your arms
an altar before the Atlantic
commanding, tumulus ocean
serves as our priest
brought from sandy shelter
where we consummated our love
gives us two rings to keep
fraught, fragile commitment
regardless of reality
echoed by breaking wave
“Just you and me against the world...
Sunday 28th October 2012 9:35 am
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...
Sunday 14th October 2012 8:42 am
Wednesday 19th January 2011 8:26 pm
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 ...
Wednesday 10th November 2010 1:44 pm
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
got it working.
I can’t remember the coldness
Tuesday 27th July 2010 10:05 pm
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...
He was full of life
Tuesday 6th April 2010 5:00 pm
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.
To his house, outside a window he eat till he was full
And should the Yeomanry or Constab...
Monday 6th July 2009 11:21 pm