Where the Old Head Remembers

When I set out to write this, I found myself asking what shape the words should take. Should I tie it to a strict steady rhyme like AABB, neat and regular? But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that kind of fixed structure wouldn’t quite fit what I wanted to say.

The coast doesn’t move in rigid, unchanging lines – wind shifts, tides rise and fall, paths wander and memory itself flows in its own way. So I chose to keep this mixed , open style: It breathes like the sea air, follows the rhythm of the cliffs and the weather and feel like the quiet voice of the land itself speaking, rather than a poem following strict rules.

This piece is written from the perspective of the Old Head itself: The spirit has known its windswept heights, its gorse and rock, its old walls and open ground. It looks back at the freedom of earlier times, acknowledges the changes that people have brought over the years and holds fast to what never leaves. Even as lines are drawn and the land is shaped, its soul remains – still walking its familiar ways, still at home where the wind meets the sea.

What is Mixed Style or Hybrid Verse:

This poem is written in what I call mixed style – blending structured rhyme (here using the steady AABB pattern) with free verse. In literary terms,this approach is widely known as hybrid verse or mixed-form poetry. It is not a new invention; many celebrated poets – including W.B. Yeats, T.S. Eliot, Seamus Heaney and Billy Collins – have used this method, moving between fixed rhythm and looser flow to match the mood, subject, or voice of their work.

Strict rhyme can feel solid and timeless, but but it can also feel too rigid for subjects like the natural world, memory, or change. By mixing the two forms, the poem gains the strength and familiarity of traditional structure, while also having the freedom to “breathe”- shifting pace like the wind, tides and changing light of “the old head” itself. It is a style that honours both the traditions of poetry and the organic, unruly nature of the land we write about.

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_{Eastern side of The Old Head Kinsale County Cork Ireland Photo Copyright © 2026 Elizabeth Fitzgerald}

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Where the Old Head Remembers




I have no name, no tale to tell,
no stone to mark where I once dwelled,
but I have climbed these wind-worn heights,
and breathed the air where sunlight falls.
The gorse that glows like scattered fire,
the cliffs that lean to meet the tide.
I knew each cranny, crag and cove,
where seabirds wheel and wild waves rove.



I walked the wall that stretched from east
to west, where weathered stone stood fast
against the gale and foaming sea.
I knew the tower standing free,
a sentinel above the swell,
where watchers kept their vigil well.



Back then, no bounds were drawn or set,
just open ground where footsteps met
the heather deep and grass unshorn,
where one might wander, free, unwarned
by lines that men would later trace
across the old familiar place.



If I returned now, would I know
the shape of things that used to grow?
The wall still stands, the tower still keeps
its quiet watch above the deeps,
but now a beacon crowns the height,
guiding ships through dark and night.



New order lies where bracken grew,
where wilder grasses once broke through.
A faint division marks the ground
where older freedoms once were found,
where wind and rain and restless tide
shaped every path both far and wide.
These changes lie beyond my ken,
things shaped by later hands and men.



For I am bound to what remains;
the rock, the rain, the sea’s old strains.
I knew the scent of salt and gorse,
the thunder of the ocean’s force,
the hush when evening shadows creep
to wrap the headland in its sleep.



I linger still where light will fall
on headlands proud and ancient wall.
I am the breath that stirs the fern,
the quiet step where shadows turn,
no hero’s fame, no royal name,
just love for this same wild, sweet frame.
Though times have turned and men have learned
to shape the land and mark its frame,
the soul of the Old Head endures,
and still I walk its windswept ways. 






Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved 

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From the Author:

Thank you for joining me on this journey of writing and discovery. Poetry, for me, is a continuous learning process. A way of finding my own voice and writing style and exploring the beauty of words.

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