StormThoughts

One of my favourite poems is, ” The Four Quartets” by TS Eliot

“In my beginning is my end, in succession
houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended
are removed, destroyed restored, or in their place
is an open field or a factory or a bypass.
Old stone to new Building,…..”
East  Coker.

One of my own poems from a hike along the Old Kenmare Road in Kerry in the company of others

The Old Kenmare Road

In the strange noon time of travel
Ghosts of old coaches groan
Shadows of Finn and Fianna
Drift by the windy gap
Reminders of old hostilities
Streams gurgle trip and fall
Over rock and under sod
Frothy yellowed by bog

The high peaks in cloud
The soft rain reigning
Over all – slush and slosh
Time quivers with memory
Heroes thunder on
The coachman lingers
Axles creak and moan

For a moment
The breath of passing people
Is felt from times first second here
On and on the road reaches
By fern and birch
Holly hazel purple heather
Foxglove and fuschia

Wild and wetting the wind
Delivering spores of water
Drifting across the vision
Old shapes shift
Rocks lift here
Bend into obstinate form

Here is oak king of the forest
Aged rich timber
Where thought invades
Space closes to a private moment

I thrive in the pure
Sensual fine rain of day