“There’s magic in the Coolroe-stream, or pucks weave herb into the browse to make me dream…
In Killorglin town I bowed before a virgin-queen, who gave a crown to make me king with vision over everything. Our match remained unconsumate. For I was hailed on-high, engaged – though caged – in things of state. There, phantoms, clad in cap and boot, waved crooked sticks and mumbled strange in ancient tongue, then bought and sold the living soul of sullen ox and horse and colt. And at my feet, the men danced women down the street, like spectres borne on haunting notes of lonely songs that sang of sorrows in the years: how wanton maids, with torment-eyes, as wild and green as Lough Lean’s isles, and ringlets wrought in purest gold, like wavelets caught in sunset’s mould, were, by their beauty, thus condemned to birthing pain and living drudge. While boys, like bumble bees, beguiled by nectar spilled by girls, were led along a lane of toil and grudge… Now I wake-up in the glen, running free of ‘Orglin-men, to gambol up the giddy scree into the cloud where Mother Earth becomes the sky; and sense a life set out for me, of butting he and tupping she. Then see the visions of my dream; hear the laughing of the stream; and wonder – why?”
In the early days I imagined myself wandering the lanes of England with a rucksack on my back and, maybe, something lively in my hip-flask. I saw myself sitting on a hill somewhere, scribbling poems and, hopefully, making enough to keep body and soul together. But life isn't like that and, after a few years at sea and in the army, I found myself with a wife and kids to keep. So now, with three novels wallowing on Kindle, I scribble the odd rhyme by way of a hobby and shove it on my blog. Hope someone out there finds them interesting.
Drop by drop they follow to shower, Sometimes heavy and sometimes slower. From the high to the low, Feeling the earth and to flow. Sounding in a delightful drizzle, Healing the land dry to mizzle. Little children way to home,
Don’t remember when it happened A year ago or a few, But a strange thing has happened And, for me, a very new. It all started with a prologue, As it always does, A prologue very interesting, For the both