Wednesday 18 May 2011

The land cries

When God painted Ireland,
He used watercolours,
Smudging the dun, sodden landscape
With occasional sunshine.
This wringing wet romance
Seeps down through quiet churchyards
Feeding lonely streams where soldiers drank
And scanned  heather ridges riddled
With the possibility of concealment
And sudden death
I looked down at Lough Erne
Through the shining, murderous hillocks
Is that where all this water goes?
Washing the clay clean to Enniskillen.
It's a pity spilled blood
Can't be got rid of as quickly.

First published Independent 1992

1 comment:

  1. What you need:
    Computer and reliable internet
    18 or older
    Ability to work independently

    Training is available.

    This is a Guaranteed and Legit source to earn some extra

    money. http://tinyurl.com/onlinejobsnow2014

    ReplyDelete