Saturday, 26 March 2011


Omey Island

Lying in the hollow
the church hides, on flowers
amongst rabbit burrows 
a human bone exposed

Horses express the power
of ancients, as people
strain and pay, toy
guns express the mood

The tide a reminder of

a lost boat form Cork

The Island 

Collecting cowries like gems on the
golden beach, the spit separates the island
out across the nectar of the sea to a
land obsessed with its distance

People isolated and invaded offer
painted stones, in a museum of memory
King Conought stops the tide,
childhood games take on the universe

A tense freedom of difference, tax-less cars
and planning oddities ignore Cromwell’s fort
time is not ours as we loose ourselves,
Kings of the castle for millennia

Searching for treasure under the Dolman
the carnivorous bog clams another victim,
as sundew waits amongst sphagnum
ready to create and dress another wound

Youth creates heroic fantasies of scaling
the world, escaping to higher realms
knowledge becomes the hero of age
knowing you were always there

The island centers our focus
placing us in the cosmos, as dust
collects in the wind and the jetty
disappears under the sea


The Lake 
The lake like a kidney
cleaning the world
lies hidden in the hollow
yearning to become a bog

Hummocks erupting at
its edge encroach with
their own desires
while lily’s lie

Hiding beneath the
goats beard, ready to
suck you in, a minefield
of pools await

The Mountain
The trees are not blowing in the wind or washed by the rain
they are floating in the currents of the tide
moving in and out hundreds of feet above our heads
rich, green seaweed swaying in murky heights

Clouds cling to the peeks of waves made of rock
like ciphers clinging to the belief in their importance
when they are no more than a passing shadow
to conservatism, millions of years old

Aspirations of grandeur rolling down their sides
like waterfalls crashing in a cave
fears built and acted out while we sleep
senses filling the gap to a fragile reality

A mindless game of power and control
exerted by the weakest, leaving us breathless
subtlety lost in an endless soup
we are our hero’s traveling into the sunset

Emotions like rain, a desire created and impossible
the dysfunction of existence acted out
in a cesspit of jealousy - lost in the mountains
a storm threatening and mesmeric locks us in

The castle is merely half a wall and yet it holds
the promontory, seeking attention
disappointment palpable before you reach the top
delusions running away with the wind

Sink your millions into neglect,
guilt etched stones expose the skeleton
through a skin of bog the race is on
charming the other side of chance


No comments:

Post a comment