Day 3 - Womb

3rd Oct 2019

Day 3 of octpowrimo.

Thinking of the prompt made me ponder on ancestors, where we all come from


Womb

Dear Rosie, your great,  great, great. great, great grandmother,
My great, great  grandmother, was
Mary Ryan - she lived in Googa- I never met her.
Your great, great , great, great grandmother,
My great grandmother, was
Winifred Stapleton - she lived in Googa - I never met her
Your great, great, great grandmother,
My grandmother, was
Katie Ryan - she lived in Thurles - I loved her dearly
Your great, great grandmother,
My mother, was
Bridie Clarke - she lived in Stanmore- I loved her too
Your great grandmother,
Me , I am
Grams to you - I live in Kent - you are fond of me and great grandad
Your grandmother,
My daughter, is
Emma Stevens - she lives in Oxford- you love her dearly
Your Dad,
My grandson . is
Ryan Stevens - he lives with you in Broseley - you adore him
And then there is you,
With your history of wombs that bore people that loved.

2 Oct 2019 Changeling

2nd Oct 2019

Day 2 of octpowrimo.
Why don't you have a go. It would be lovely to see your words.

Going for an acrostic as I found the prompt, Changeling,  a bit hard. I was thinking of my boy, who has ADHD and didn't "fit" societal expectations.

Changeling

Child with extraordinary powers, not understood by those who
Have preconceived ideas of a normal sort of life, a life that fits their comfort,
A life that doesn't veer from the road, the wide path everyone knows
No, they cannot see the magic in the manifestations of this dear creature's
Great adventure, where anything is possible and no limits exist, where
Everything is taken and explored and exploded and enthused over,
Larger than the life he's been given, he
Is the inventor most magnificent, the
Nobleman in his own country, encountering all with joy
Going at the speed of light, no, not understood

Oct 1 2019 Dark Night of the Soul

1st Oct 2019

Octpowrimo starts again and I want to try and have a little something for every day of the month.
If you would like to join in go just google  Octpowrimo 2019 and you'll find out more.
It's good fun and keeps you writing.

Day one...

Dark Night of the Soul

It seemed I had 

Everything I wanted,

Husband, children, friends, job

Enough monetarily - although

We never really think we have 

Enough

I couldn't honestly say

I lacked anything

Yet,

Yet, I was lonely 

But I couldn't say

There was something missing

I didn't feel me

Didn't feel whole

But I couldn't say

In the depths of my very being

There was a heavy emptiness. 

Everything was black

But I couldn't say

There was just this

Dark hole 

That held 

A pain 

A pain I couldn't explain.        

Picture of nan

Irish Adventure - Croagh Patrick

5th Aug 2019

On the 28th May we climbed "Ireland's Holy Mountain" - Croagh Patrick. And yes, we got to the top, which was no mean feat. It was one of the must do's I had on my list on our recent trip to the Emerald Isle, along with visit an uncle in Mallow and a writer in Innishannon, travel the Wild Atlantic Way and make a pilgrimage to Knock before the end of May.

We managed all this and more. 

It was while we were in Knock that we decided we might give the Holy Mountain a go, as we weren't that far away.

Well rested after having camped for two nights at the Shrine ( mostly we did wild camping to keep the costs down), and after a breakfast of bacon and eggs, we left the campsite and parked down by the Basilica to go to Holy Mass.
My favourite place at the Shrine is the Apparition Chapel,  where a larger than life  vision of Our Mother with St Joseph and St John are represented . I don't know what I expected from the Pilgrimage, but apart from our own prayers that we came with we were blessed with so much peace, which was only reinforced as we started to hear the story .
The priest in confession told me he likes to reflect that Mary, who spoke no words to the visionaries, is to him, Our Lady of Silence. That each one takes away their own message. I liked that and it was certainly true for us.
I really felt that our going to Knock was a particular call from Our Heavenly Mother, and  that we left having been given many graces and blessings
One day I will return.

Now we were ready to be off, but not before we filled up with petrol. Oh dear, a problem, our travelcard wouldn't work. Panic! As I searched manically for my purse, my heart rate rising , I said  a quiet prayer that I had enough cash on me.  Amazingly, as I'm not in the habit of carry much money on me,  I did - just.  My shoulders relaxed as the immediate tension was over, but why didn't the card work and what would we do without it?

Hubby  thought it could've been affected magnetically because it was  next to his phone in his pocket. 

We returned to  the campsite where we knew we'd  be able  to get wi-fi,  so he could try and get into the account to see what was up.
Half an hour later, frustrated and anxious after many failed attempts to speak to someone , finally he got into the account. Apparently, all the systems were down and it was nothing to do with us after all.
Well, that was good news.
However, to make sure it was working we called in at a little shop to get some Rosary Beads for two grandchildren making their First Holy Communion this year. It was a good call, as I hadn't been organised enough to get them before and to have them from the Shrine would be really special.

At last we are headed  for Westport, a beautiful little town and the nearest one to Croagh Patrick.
To be as ready as possible for the challenge, which we're not sure we're totally up for, we decide we will stay on a campsite. That way we can shower,  relax, have the top up ( we don't do that when we're incognito) and not worry whether we might be moved on.  

The next morning was a perfect day for the climb. Not much wind and clear skies, although a chap at the campsite had done it the day before put us off a little by  telling  us how difficult even he, a seasoned mountaineer had found it . We shouldn't even try he said unless we were used to mountains.
Well, we're not.
 It didn't help, that when we turned up at the bottom of the mountain there were mountain rescue teams - there all the time it seems, for fools who think they can do more than they actually can.
We stood looking up, in our walking boots, supplies of drink and rainproof gear in our rucksacks and decided that we'd give it a go. I mean, we were here now.
It's not that it's the highest mountain, it's more that the sharp rocks and shale, and the steep inclines are relentless.
The last part is the steepest and for some of that I literally crawled on hands and knees, thinking I could easily fall off the blessed mountain.
What on earth were we doing, I thought , as legs, arms , back, head all ached and I realised that we had to make it down too!
From the top, which when we got there, felt really amazing, you can see  354 islands  in Clew Bay. Well, let me tell you, I never counted them.
Coming down was as bad as going up . No wonder Christians used it for penance. We definitely suffered. Two people were carried off the mountain by helicopter the day we did it.
And , you know what, it could of been us.
It was hell of a climb.
We were too tired to even cook a bit of dinner , only having fresh bread with butter and jam . We parked up for the night around 7.00 pm , looking out to sea, so glad we'd achieved our goal.

Irish Adventure

11th July 2019

Adventures in Ireland

We are home now, got back five days ago, although our ferry docked in Pembroke very late the Tuesday before. We spent a few days seeing children as we made our way to our own house and our own bed. 

Not that we missed the bed, we sleep very well in the camper, thank you.

 Nor did we miss the house, now a good advertisement for "The Day  of the Triphids" - the weeds were literally two feet high and that was just after nine weeks. 

And when one of the children said , "are you EVER coming home ?" after about the sixth week.... well, we were very nearly tempted not to.

Here I am at the farm, now derelict , where my grandmother was born and grew up and yes, it's raining. It is the Emerald Isle, after all. But not even the rain put a damper on my imaginations as I thought how I'd like to live here and look out at the same mountains that she looked out at all those years ago. Unlike the house, which has no firm foundations, my roots go back a long way around these parts. The years merged closer as I Imagined Nan when she was a child playing with her brothers and sisters . So much space to roam. 

I am glad to be home.

Happy to see the children and grandchildren - there's only a few left to see and then we'll have touched base with them all.

But, we had the most amazing adventure in Ireland, so we did.

More to come - hopefully, when I get more time. Odd how you can be so busy just living.

The Lakes of Killarny

25th May

We have been trVelling round Ireland. Here are just a couple of scenes.

Angel of the North

10th April 2019

Poem A Day in April -Day 10

Have missed writing a poem a day for April this last week.

Couldn't work out how to get to my blog . I was being asked for a password which I vdidn't remember.

This morning , not sure what happened, but I'm in!

Angel Of The North

Perched on this hill reaching for the sky

Seen for miles around, standing so high,

You are a sign of unity and togetherness

Strong and tall, For mighty Northeast

Yet also,

A beacon of warmth 

Throwing open your arms of welcome.

Roadtrip

2nd April

A poem a day in April:

Using the promp of asking quRoadtrip

Roadtrip

Is that the sun hidden
behind the mist,
As my joy dwells deep within
Shadowed by an endless
"To do" list?
Did we pack jumpers,
It's still "that time" of year,
To warm chilly words
That might escape?
While we bumble along
On this
Roadtrip of life.
Did we include the food,
To nourish and sustain,
To take away the strain,
To keep us fit and strong?
Will we last forever,
Or is that too long?

No Chicken

1st April
Now it begins- napowrimo.
Day 1


No Chicken

You sit,

Hunched over,

on the cold pavement,

a colourful sleeping bag

pulled up under your chin,

It seems futile against

this crisp March morning,

Strategically,

carefully,  you've chosen

your place,

next to the steps
that lead 

to the the doors

of the St Benedict's  Church.

You reach out to me,

 hands gnarled, greasy,

 gritted with the road,
Your eyes search me,

 hopefully,

find their way to a  corner

of my soul

"Are you hungry?
Can I get you a sandwich?"
"Yes, thanks..."
Is that an Albanian accent?
"What kind would you like?"

I leave  you that dignity,

won't presume to choose.

"Chicken please..."
"No chicken left, 

what about
 ham and cheese?"
"That's fine, Thank you"
polite, refined, 

what brought you here?

You take my hand.
I wish I could take you home.
I find myself sitting beside you,
we talk for a bit,
I leave

to go back  to my,

centrally heated house