The Island. Angels voices soaring to roll off the ceilings curves,numb hands pressed against grieving ones,roaring winds pulling at the aged stones,no threat to peace or pain inside the vault,sharing the seeping warmth of love departed. The lintels still carry chisel strikes,left by rough hands that toiled,a hundred years of rain have yet,to find their way inside,each stone as tight together as the families,who sit in hushed mourning rows beneath,
Ruins of Houses In the shattered ruins of abandoned houses,Lie secret notes on scraps of paper, Tucked beneath the mossy stones,Silent questions to be buried under falling needles, Hopes and fears unanswered in the rough pine forest, The cairn of broken plates and white clay pipes, The thick round pot rims, orange and smooth, Marking the commitment to the woodlice, Of the lonely pain.
Cobh -The Gateway to Munster. Cobh is the most beautiful seaside town in Ireland, looking out over the vast Cork harbour where the mighty River Lee runs down to meet the ocean. A place of rich history, which has stunning natural beauty and it is where the world’s largest liners come alongside the Deep Water Quay. The huge floating palaces carrying thousands of tourists each year are vast in scale and they tower over the brightly painted fishing boats which set out from the small little piers and coves with their pots & nets seeking to bring home the bounty of the waters outside the harbour.
Wind. Seek the high and lonely places,let the roar of wind push electronic chatter from your ears,and drag a tear from an eye that was dry too long.Breathe deep.