In the past number of months I wrote a poem dedicated to the town and place I call home. Today I felt the urge to pen a poem (of sorts) That will give a little bit more on the place I call home. But I know too well that those of you who struggle with soime Irish words and terms may very well struggle to understand some things that could be placed here, but also some things that are here. I will place a little explanation on some areas or things that may be of issue for folks.
First off my mention of Rome; It is no intended insult or any negative hit on Rome, BUT it is mostly for rhyme purposes and also a hint of sorts, that this home is NOT very big. BUT it is a country town and a place I cal home.
Where I live; I live on the western side of Cork City in the far south of Ireland. Although I love the south western coastline and the sights seen there. City life is Not iin my heart. NOT for a country boy like me. Thus my love and desire to one day end up back where I call home. Away from the city lights and fast paced life style found here.
Where The Blackwater Flows?; The Blackwater is a river that flown through the Town of Mallow in North of the county of Cork, Also a town that one has to pass by when travelling north to where I call home. also it is where I have always said is a point that “From here I smell the fresh country air”.
At first sight of those hills; Thanks to wikipedia for this little info in which I coppied here.
The Ballyhoura Mountains (Irish: An Sliabh Riabhach) are located in south-east County Limerick and north-east County Cork in central Munster, running east and west for about 6 miles on the borders of both counties.
Not very high or large in much respect, But a tourist and mountain Biking location. I honestly only call them hills, thus “those Hills”.. Which one will travel by when coming close to the Town of Charleville (my home town and the place this poem is about). Thus when passing beside those hills and eventually finding them in your rearview mirrors, Is when I know I am close to home.
The Golden vale; Also a little bit extra information taken from Wikipedia for faster use of such information to complete here.
The Golden Vale is an area of rolling pastureland in the civil province of Munster, southwestern Ireland. Covering parts of three counties, Limerick, Tipperary and Cork, it is the best land in Ireland for dairy farming. Historically it has been called the Golden Vein. An early instance is an 1837 book by Jonathan Binns, a British government official, where he refers to the area as ‘”the golden vale” (more correctly the “golden vein”)’ and states “The land is of excellent quality, being part of the golden vein of Ireland—a district reaching from Tipperary towards Limerick. The extent of the golden vein is about fourteen miles long, by six or seven wide.” (i.e. 23 × 10 km; an area of 58,000 acres or 236 km2) Some subsequent writers similarly prefer “vein”.
The Golden Vale is bordered in the east by the Galtee Mountains, with the Glen of Aherlow as a picturesque abutting valley. The Munster Blackwater valley is the Vale’s southern part. Towns in the Golden Vale include Charleville, Mitchelstown, Kilmallock and Tipperary. From Tipperary town to Golden, and then south to Cahir, Mitchelstown, Kildorrery, Mallow and Charleville, this ‘square’ could be considered the best land in Ireland.
All the above information has been copied from Wikipedia, thus any links or Pictures etc will come from there or take you there.
Where homes now stand; A nod as it were to growth in housing development etc from the days of my childhood. When as a child playing in fields developed since for houses and homes.
From the north greeted with the church steeple; When people visit or return to the Town of Charleville, they are first greeted as it were by the view of the Church steeple as seen when coming towards charleville from The city of Limerick.
I do hope that this run down of this poem will help in some understanding of this piece, I know it will not be as free flowing or easily read as others BUT it is written as I tell it, thus some lacking of poetic works in places, to keep with taking one on this journey.
Having said that Please enjoy.
My Land My Home Not Rome Beyond the dazzling city lights I roam, Lies a town I call home nowhere near Rome. This drive north through familiar roads one goes, One town will glow where the black water flows. Even the wind here appears to blow e’er fresh, As fresh air hits your face almost cuts flesh. When the winter winds will blow strong there, Travel some miles north then call for some beer. At first sight of those hills, I’m almost home, Strolling the hills gazing north, green lands roam. Entering The Golden Vale here in youth, Wandered free where homes now stand truth. This is my land, childhood home, my people, From the north greeted with the church steeple. Those who wandered from here welcomed home, All who wander o’er the foam here it’s not Rome. For here it’s home, my land, my people known, Where e’er I’ve flown I groan, ache to the bone. This is my land, where I have grown, my home, Set the sail far and wide, here home’s not Rome. © Pat Fitzgerald 2023
Thank you for reading this far into this post, It has been something that burned deeply within to pen something of worth about what and where I call home.
If you wish to read more on the locations and areas mentioned, Wikipedia is a good start, also any google search will provide great information.
If you or anyone wishes to post a comment, I will welcome with an open heart, I only ask that comments are polite, in order to provide as positive an area as possible, without causing insult to anyone visting this blog.
In finishing Please take care, stay well and safe. Also provide a little loving care to tose in society that exist amongst us in society around us.
On occasions I publish and post pieces that will have mistakes and typos included. Rest assured I correct and update such mistakes and typos as soon as I find any..
Until next time, Cheers.
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