Beneath Cnoc Daod
By Turlough
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Goose feather pillows fly on high
In countless shades grey, white and black
They fill the most colossal sky
Obscure a maze of time-worn tracks
Play hide and seek
With barren peaks
Caress the hillsides
Drench the land
Perchance the púca lends a hand
It's a soft day in Glenlough
Spikes of brilliance
Pierce the rain
There's a glow in the fields
Green becomes greener
A rainbow paints its mystic tones
On jagged teeth of ancient stone
Adorned with roaring wild cascades
The Mare's Tail's enchantment never fades
The tears of Ireland’s Highest Kings
Gush past wee fellows' magic rings
As corncrake croaks and linnet sings
A myriad of frantic insects brings
Sweet airs performed on buzzing wings
A home these days
To a hardy few with farming ways
And foreign types on holidays
And tribes of sheep
Who stand all day
In bog and peat
To eat and bleat
And stare and sleep
Two Celts came, hand in hand
From far away, an eastern land
Breton woman, Ulster man
Left their Balkan home a while
Crossed all Europe, a fair few miles
To replenish wild Atlantic blood
To breath wild air and chew wild cud
From uilleann pipes a welcome tune
The wail of the Banshee's lonesome croon
Laughter, songs and local craic
They'd missed the place
Grand to be back
The wind in the trees
The birds' refrain
These sounds all balm
For heart and brain
Turf burns
Moving closer to the hearth
Smoke fills the room
Fills my head
The purest toke
Nostalgic patriotic smoke
Stories of the faerie folk
Dónal grins and tells a joke
A Beara moon lights up the glen
And that's the time exactly when
My Irish tongue is loose and fast
From all the Power's in my glass
Swearing on the blood and bones
Of long departed Ma and Da
This heart of mine won't wander far
From Adrigole or Healy Pass
Sad our stay has flown so fast
We wrote a promise, nailed to our mast
This night in Glenlough won't be our last
Image:
Every image I use is from a photograph I have taken myself.
On this occasion – The view from the kitchen window at Glenlough House near Adrigole, where Priyatelkata and I stayed for a most wonderful week.
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Comments
Much to set the scene. I had
Much to set the scene. I had to look up some words!
As we've just had a few days in west Pembrokeshire, that we hadn't been able to visit for about 4 years, there was much with which I empathised. And we had wild weather, but then beautiful weather, very windy, to explore. Rhiannon
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"A rainbow paints its mystic
"A rainbow paints its mystic tones
On jagged teeth of ancient stone.."
A sweeping journey back to roots brought to life with great evocation. I could feel the lore running through the words. Glenlough sounds stunning.
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You've managed to catch the
You've managed to catch the enchantment of your visit, and the mysterious legends in that third stanza which was magical to read.
I've never been to Ireland, but you've created such a beautiful memory in your poem that was fascinating to follow..
Thank you for sharing Turlough.
Jenny.
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Lyrical
and quite lovely, what a super memory to have.
I'll bet the Irish tourist board would love this. it's now on my wish list of places to visit :)
best
L x
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it sounds so wonderful
it sounds so wonderful Turlough - and all the photos elsewhere too. I have a friend from the South of France who visited Ireland in July. Every photo (and there were many) that she posted on social media involved pouring, sometimes driving rain and an expression on her face which is hard to describe
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Dingle! That is near where we
Dingle! That is near where we went on holiday when I was 5 or so :0) Everywhere, even where I am now, is tame by comparison. I do not remember the rain, only the brightness of the colours outside (probably rain washed!) and I do not even have any roots or rights of belonging there, but felt I was a needle found the magnet. Thankyou so much for refreshing my memory with your beautiful poem!
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Lovely poem - can't believe
Lovely poem - can't believe you wrote that so soon after your return. How do you do it? I paint quickly but writing is a chore, draft after draft...
I'm still surprised you didn't bump into my ancestor- statues in Cork,Tipperary and Dublin...and possibly standing still in a field, sheep-like...in the middle of nowhere.
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