The Old Bog Road

After a little spell where a slight issue regarding posting comments was demaning that it was resolved took most of my time. I returned first with a spell of contemplation as it were, regarding my last couple of posts. In certain my last post which was amongst My Favoured of poetry that I composed, placed countless hours editing and reediting such a poem and I admit, I set a high bar for expectation and how folks and readers would receive it.

But not as I expected and I was a little down with how it was received, Until I remembered that Poetry is what I love to Compose, write , edit and re-edit and then edit again if needed. This is what I love to do and it gives me a kick. Thus If readers Like a poem or comment on such, That is an honour which I take a littrle pride in. I use language to the fullness that I can to compose the best that I can bring about and love every moment of this.

each time I compose a Poem I sit here at the same spot, with a cup of (herbal) tea beside me and Music playing that helps me focus, then like a Parent expecting new life, I eagerly await the moment such a post goes live and again I enjoy this. Then for a day or so I recharge before beginning that process again. Not a great life to be proud of, BUt when doing something you love it does give a sweet kick to life.

NOW That I hope issues are well behind me.

About The Poem:

When I sat to compose this Poem, I recalled a Road back where my dad comes from and the life he had there and also how much enjoyment I had as a child in that area. Which became the foundation of this Poem and from this point this Poem took to life and flowed.

In a country life that is almost a different time zone to that which we know in cities today, It sparks an adventure of a kind I found no where else, especially in the eyes and mind of a child that brings an imagination to life. From sounds and sights it bubbles into something else that makes that life very much worth while.

Thus this Poem takes the speaker from the eyes and mind of childhood onto adult life and rediscovering himself back where it all started for him. For me it was a simple formula to a good poem. But I say that about most that I write and how many succeed in the end? This Poem is a Poem that recalls life as it was and different to that which we and the speaker knew yet in the end the speaker rediscovers that life he loved.

Also I hope that readers rediscover something that they also may have lost along the way in this life. The ability to slow down and connect with the beauty and life that is about us.

Having said all of this; Please Enjoy This Poem:

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Once more I have stuck with AI to provide a suitable Image to go along with this Post, especially after many rejected Pictures. So any usual credit etc for copyrite etc goes where it should go. Not the best picture for this Poem But I believe it works for the Topic of the Poem.

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The Old Bog Road



On the old bog road, walking wild,
Taking life in stride, eyes of a child,
Where sights and sounds sparked sudden delight,
With heather's scent in morning light.


Sweet sparrow songs on breezes ride,
Yet seem to linger, not to hide,
They stir the soul, a subtle start,
To chains of joy from heart to heart.


I wandered where the willows weep,
By brooks that bubbled secrets deep,
And every stone and root and tree,
Once whispered tales they told to me.


But time moved on — I lost the thread,
Chased busy days and words unsaid,
The wonder waned, the world grew loud,
And dreams fell silent in the crowd.


Now walking slow through peat and pine,
I ask what made that heart not mine —
Where did I trade that open gaze,
For lists and clocks and clouded days?


Yet here, where heather scents the breeze,
And sparrows flit through willow trees,
A hush returns — a softened light,
That warms the wounds I’d veiled from sight.


The brook still sings that secret song,
As if it knew I'd been gone long,
But waited here, with patient grace,
To guide me back to wonder’s place.


So now I walk, both man and child,
Along this path where time beguiled,
And let the stillness shape my pace 
In wonder’s light, I find my place.









© Pat Fitzgerald 2025