Tuesday, February 14, 2023

Ballywhiskin Beach

Ballywhiskin Beach, County Down. The light caught the rocks beautifully. No editing or filters. I have been back a few times but the effect was not the same. The lovely rusty steps lead to some lucky person's garden and add to the scene. It has subsequently been replaced by more robust steps.

 


 

 

 

Sunday, February 12, 2023

Nendrum, Strangford Lough

A beautiful place, an ancient monastic site. Sacked by the Vikings. I took this picture there, at sunset. All natural light. There is no filtering or editing used. 

 


I wrote this poem whilst at Nendrum....

 

Celtic Drum


Sitting, smelling Autumn
Inhale a distant Celtic drum
Nendrum, island of dreams
Monks, brewers of words

My soul drinks
Savours syllables 
To share with kith and kin
To write, without, from within

Mystical heartbeats grip my pen
Move me to see
Beyond rolling green beauty
Rolling, lapping waves

Waves, through my mind
This land has made blood flow
And ink flow
Vanquisher, the mighty love-filled pen

Friday, February 10, 2023

Maggies Leap - Mountains of Mourne

Maggies Leap

The area is beautiful.  I have tramped it many times and completed the Mourne Wall walk (no longer an event, due to the problems it caused with erosion) - 26 miles and arduous.

The legend of Maggie has many versions.  I like this one.  In others she didn't make the leap safely...

Someone left a nice memorial to Maggie at the site... Sadly people have perished there. 

https://www.thelastleprechaunsofireland.com/stories/maggies-leap/

Maggie was the only daughter of Deegan a renowned and skilful poacher from Ballyvaston Killough in Co. Down. His fame and skill was known and revered in the countryside around.

Salmon or pheasant, deer or rabbit – nothing was safe from the snares and traps laid by the wily poacher. Many an empty belly was fed by him in Newcastle and it surrounds, when money was hard to come by and those that had a lot cared little for those who had little.

Maggie was the apple of her father’s eye and from the time she could walk, he carried her with him on his back on his day escapades. Before she was 10 she had mastered his trade and was as proficient as many four times her age in the ways of the countryside.

Maggie and her father were no friends of the landed gentry in the area. While they were never caught they were never far from suspicion when deer disappeared from estates or the salmon pools of the Shimna River were emptied of everything except water.

The gentry took to setting up watch by day and night but still they were never caught.

By the time she was seventeen Maggie had matured into the most beautiful and wild creature that the countryside had ever laid eyes on. She had gold flowing locks, the figure of an hour glass and a smile that would melt you.

She was as fleet of foot as a deer for those who dared to chase her and had no eyes for any man other than her father Deegan. Such was the devastation of wild game in the estates that the gentry sought the help of the army to try and curb the activity of poachers and in particularly the pair from Ballyvaston.

The renewed vigilance by the soldiers took its toll on the pair’s activities and it wasn’t long before hunger came to their door. Deegan was not as active as before and Maggie became the sole provider. She did throw an odd wink and a smile at a lonely soldier who would turn a blind eye to her activities and hoping that she would favour him with something more; but it never came.

On occasion she would climb down the cliff face of Dundrum Bay to gather the eggs of nesting seagulls filling her basket to the brim. It was on such an occasion that she was spotted on the headland by a group of drunken soldiers. Her hair was blowing in the wind, her skirt tucked up and in on herself from climbing; her long beautiful legs striding out on the road home and her basket full.

The saw an opportunity to block her path and keep her trapped between the headland, a wide sea chasm and the sea. There was more on their minds than the eggs of seagulls when they charged down towards her shouting obscenities and roaring with drunken laughter.

She ran; but was trapped – in front of her, the huge sea chasm cut into the coastline. Maggie could not swim but death by drowning seemed a better option at that moment than what might befall her. Still she held on to the basket of eggs and summonsing the spirits of every deer they ever poached she leaped for freedom and her lithe body landed with grace on the other side leaving her pursuers to only stand and gape.

In her basket, every egg was intact.

Maggie continued on for many years providing food for her father and mother till the day came when they were gone and times became a little better.

She never married but she is still remembered in this area and the chasm north of Newcastle is known to this day as Maggie’s Leap. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have attached some images.  If you do go, worth crossing the road afterwards and explore the old Mourne Mountains smuggling trails towards Hilltown, via Bloody Bridge and the aptly named Brandy Pad.


If you do go in to the mountains please go prepared and be safe.  Mountains can be unforgiving...









































Friday, July 01, 2022

Ballynoe Stone Circle

 Ballynoe Stone Circle


I had no idea until last year that there was a stone circle in Northern Ireland.  Not far (3 miles) from Downpatrick in County Down.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ballynoe_stone_circle

I recently took my little pal there.  The lane up to it has been decorated with little fairy paraphernalia which he loved.  

A lovely place to visit, somewhat magical and mystical.







Friday, May 27, 2022

Sir Boswell and Lady Bella

Sir Boswell and Lady Bella

 
You enhanced our lives
Our expectations were none
Then Jo graciously arrives
Our dreams as one
 
Whenever you gazed in our eyes
We thought the same
Love is no surprise
Sir Boswell doth proclaim
 
If you watch us sleep
We twitch and turn
Our memories we keep
Through dreams we learn
 
Every smile, each kind act
Is written in stone, forever
History can never redact
Our tails stop... never
 
We will always be by you
Waiting in those stars
When you walk in the dew
Those footprints are ours

Friday, July 02, 2021

Percussion

This poem was written for a friend's daughter (Chloe), who is a respiratory Physiotherapist, currently working on a Covid 19 ward.  Percussion is a technique to help people to breathe more freely.


Percussion

 

 

The sound of the drum of life

A touch, to encourage, to succour

To get you home with your wife

Living, close, who you were

 

When I go, you don’t see

I leave behind a part of me

Willing the Universe, a plea

That my hopes for you will be

 

You slept so long to get here

Your mind and spirit shined

We lost some, not without a tear

A vow never to leave you behind

 

I hold those dear much tighter

Constant, resolute in this strife

I will be there tomorrow, brighter

Smiling, with the drum of life

Barn

 

BARN is an animal rescue centre for cats and dogs near Carrowdore in County Down.

 

 

 

Barn

 

When we sense that you’re here

Our lives complete all over again

Whether staff, patron, or volunteer

Our hearts beat faster, times ten

 

It is not just our tail swishing

Every fibre is telling you

We wake and dream wishing

Time together for us two

 

We know you bring love

Sometimes a drink, a treat

Nothing will ever be above

How our spirits meet

 

You give us joy, hope and fun

We remain ever faithful and true

What Barn has graciously done

Enabled an eternal bond that grew