Saturday, May 10, 2014

Dingle Peninsula

First published in  Corvus magazine 

Dingle Peninsula

down from the rising altar stone of
Binn Diarmada,
na Gorta Dubha spread below
through the reed beds we go
to the wiry dune grass
where the bones that have travelled
make the beach white, the mind wide;
bodies who sought sanctuary from the storm
delivered cold and sightless
given back when the waves tired
of their playthings

montbretia clinging to stone walls,
keeping its nobbly toes dry
wears a headdress, of closely cropped briars
black-beaded with the taste of summer
glorious in the autumn sun;
a larder of winter food and shelter,
a place behind which you might heap up a new field,
for a future generation.

i find the fellowship of myself here
and all who have gone before me
in this holy West of Dingle peninsula
i find the same landscape
is cradle and grave,
knows the brooding, and the gathering,
the harvest, and the beach comb,
the storm, and its aftermath.

lives like candle flames
shelter behind  stone walls
from the onslaught;
each man rediscovers his own cave,
where he is companion to himself,
and all that he can carry.

 ©Copyright Niall OConnor


  1. Rachel SutcliffeMay 10, 2014 at 3:30 PM

    Really enjoyed reading this Niall

  2. Beautiful writing. Well told, Niall. x

  3. Delaina J. MillerMay 10, 2014 at 3:32 PM

    Wow, powerful images and poem Niall!

  4. Great poem, Niall.

  5. Love this...nobbly toes but all of it too...great poem...barbara

  6. Patricia WallaceMay 12, 2014 at 7:24 PM

    Beautiful beat, language and atmosphere. Well captured and very well shared. Thanks. It is special.


Comments are welcome . . .