Toll. Bright tolls that hideous bell, varnished edges biting at the collarbone, unprotected by the cheap white shirt, damp from the last wearing of the cassock, burning incense from the dark interior, lacquer from the brass handles, cloying and heavy in the heat, last night’s fighting as raw, as the nervous marks on my left... Continue Reading →
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.
Coaxing the Fire. The poker methodically at its task,guided by the sure and steady hand,rosy glow of the embers coaxed back to flame,nursed from deathbed to resurrection,throwing warmth out over worn tiles and a grey mottled cat.
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.
Skellig.
You say I never write for you,you say it with sad eyes.so I have tried to write for you,to help you stop awhile and smile.
Paper Never Refused Ink! 
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