A nation once again? When where we ever?

The amount of hoohaw and guff spouted about the Easter Rising and the Proclamation in the past week has stuck in my craw. There's been an element of measured keening for the revolutionary dead, tempered by some fawning nods of reconciliation to those who continue to deny the legacy of that event.

Indelible Echoes

This poem is about memories and how they can be triggered by chance experience. I revisited this video, recently and here is the result

https://vimeo.com/160879135

Postcard from a Pigeon

IMG_2175Indelible Echoes

A harbour breeze,
a mountain spring,
rain, the scent of heather,
a hazel copse,
freshly cut turf,
crickets in the thatch,
laughing spuds,
sizzling mackerel
and periwinkles,
sand in your toes
and the salty brine
of seaweed,
a sunburst
of glorious colour
in my mind.

Indelible echoes
of a life
tread with memories
without footprints

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1916, Souls of Freedom

2016 is the centenary of an event in Irish history that set the template for a nation. On April 24, 1916 a handful of men and women, led by a motley group of poets, writers and revolutionaries, took on the might of the British Empire and the Crown forces, to declare the birth of the Irish Republic. For six turbulent days, they fought before they were overcome, Dublin city destroyed and thousands died.

Same History

If you're Irish, then you're aware that this year, 2016, marks the 100th anniversary of an event that laid the foundation for the birth of a nation. But while we all share the same history, it is our inability to agree on what it means that has led to the birth of a nation, struggling to find an identity.

Unfathomed Wonders

It was a soap smell, that’s what it was. He couldn’t pin it down. He was never good at that. People could tell the only soap ever touched his skin was the carbolic soap his mother scrubbed him with on a Friday night when he and his brothers got their weekly bath. Then he smelled like he’d been through a cattle dip.