Wake at Ballinalee
My mother told of attending a wake when a child in her native village Ballinalee, where the pipes that were smoked cermonially …
My mother told of attending a wake when a child in her native village Ballinalee, where the pipes that were smoked cermonially …
In our home in Aughagreagh we used to have our share of the local sessions, where neighbours met up to party, tonight …
Did they look as I walked Where tradition states one never should, Inside the round ditches of the fort, Perched above Loch …
The latest of the restored poems to the website, from a couple of years back Upon that hilltop he does sleep His …
Master Greene was a Ballinalee schoolteacher who learned the Irish Traveller cant and ended up teaching it to the grandchildren of the …
A poem reflecting on our homeplace in North Longford…
ne of the tragic and most interesting things to come out of the Great War and the Second World War was the …
I seek to draw a picture here A shed, roof caving in, Its gable end seen through the door By the artist …
While walking to Arvagh today, a cow jumped up and bolted in a field next to me and put the heart crossways …
* Molly is a townland in North Longford, Ireland, where my great grandmother Margaret Drake (who married Michael O Reilly, she herself …
Are they true the old tales, that he who slay Queen Maeve, Neath one of these cairns in death enjoys sleep? That …
Smoke had cleared, blood clotted, breaths gone Flies feasted on the dead Victories armies raged the land Men fled to hills and …
Pennies of the poor gathered, one by one, counted Thousands, and hundreds of thousands, from the faithful amounted… Destroyed one cold morning, …
As if applause, a clap clap clap Echos the evening air As I walk past spectators And yet, there’s no-one there. It …
Next of kin – sisters name given: Duty done, family contacted Telegram ignored – the shame, the shame As if kinship itself …
I stood there upon the summit After a long hard climb Looked down upon the land below To rest I took my …
Sleeping, I, I did not see the dancing sun, That my grandfather claimed each Easter to see, That is what you miss …
Background: The calamity that is Carty, no matter how bad his DIY (which is worse than my cooking!), the only thing worse …
Random scattered shades of brown, Rarer yellows, more common black hues, What was once a trickle a torrent is now, Rain falls …
Beauty passed, and yet still beautiful, Walls crumble, slaves to time, build long ago The rhubarb that once here grew I ate, …