How to find Archives

I've had a number of requests for archives, but due to my current Theme style I cannot add archives to menu system on top. Therefore until I find a new theme that is more suitable and easier to navigate, here is a quick outline on how to find archives on this blog. From the homescreen … Continue reading How to find Archives

A horse standing by a stone wall next to a country road at sunset.

Keeper of Rún

Introduction to Keeper of Rún Walk an old country road in Ireland, and you will meet them: gates patched and pieced together with twisted wire, rough timber and rusted iron – mended not for show, but because they matter. They have stood through storm and sunshine, leaned on by cattle, climbed by children, held open … Continue reading Keeper of Rún

The Yew of Muckross

Some trees are more than wood and leaves - they are guardians, standing long after the walls built around them have crumbled to moss. This ancient yew grows at the very heart of Muckross Abbey’s cloister, its roots tangled in centuries of prayer, and silence. Ancient Yew Tree that has grown in that spot from … Continue reading The Yew of Muckross

Elderly man walking with a cane on a narrow rural road at sunrise

Where Words Wait

Introduction to Where Words Wait Some days the pen feels heavy, the mind crowded, and every line you try to force just slips away like dust on a breeze. This poem comes from one of these days – from stepping out instead, onto the sun-warmed lanes that you know, and learning what the land has … Continue reading Where Words Wait

Two cyclists wearing helmets riding road bikes on a narrow wet country road

The Road Never Forgets

Introduction: About This Poem There are stories we carry for a lifetime, then lose to the fading of memory – names, dates, the exact turn of a phrase. But the land does not forget. It holds every tyre-mark, every footstep, every mile travelled with someone you love. This poem walks the roads that a couple … Continue reading The Road Never Forgets

Winding dirt path through green hills with mist and mountains at sunrise

Where Love Remains

Introduction to: where Love Remains There are days when the world looks bright and familiar, yet something feels quietly out of reach – as if a light we know well has slipped just beyond our sight. This poem began with that feeling: walking the country lanes I have known all my life, seeing all the … Continue reading Where Love Remains

Elderly man walking with a cat on a winding stone-bordered path in misty countryside

Where the Lane Grows Quiet

Introduction to “Where the Lane Grows Quiet” Some roads are made to hurry along, to get you from one place to another as fast as you can go. But a bóithrín – a small lane, a boreen - is made for slowing down. It asks you to set aside your rush, to notice the dust … Continue reading Where the Lane Grows Quiet

Elderly man walking on dirt path with walking stick in green countryside

Good Things Grow Slowly

A Note Before We Walk There is a kind of magic found only on a narrow boreen - that quiet, unhurried path winding through the countryside, far from the noise of roads and clocks. When you step onto it at a slow, steady pace, time softens. The sun filters differently through the hedges, every birdcall … Continue reading Good Things Grow Slowly

Ancient stone circle with carved stones on grassy hill at sunrise

An Grá Geal

An Grá Geal (The Bright Love / The True Beloved) Introduction: An Grá Geal Or (The Bright Love / The True Beloved) is written in the ancient tradition of Personifying the land as a beloved – a custom deep in Irish poetry, where Éire, Banba and Fódhla ( names of ancient Gaelic goddesses who have … Continue reading An Grá Geal

Children sitting on logs and benches while an elderly man reads to them outdoors in a forest clearing

The Line Unbroken

Introduction: In every place, there is a thread that runs through time – one that connects those who came before, those who live now, and those who will follow. In Charleville (County Cork), that thread is woven from the land, the river, and the words that survived even when speaking them was dangerous. This Poem … Continue reading The Line Unbroken

Ruins of an old stone Celtic church surrounded by multiple gravestones under a dark cloudy sky

Where My Steps First Began.

I was born on one edge of Charleville and grew up at the southern end of Holy Cross, in Kennedy place. A place that never felt like somewhere I just lived at, but the only true home, I have ever known. This Poem follows the little hill that was like the boundary of Kennedy Place … Continue reading Where My Steps First Began.