Sunday, December 20, 2015


    I am the darkness that surrounds the world, 
        I am the cloak of mystery, around me all life flows. 
 I am the deep, in me all planets float. 
I am mystery. 
Out from me shines all light. 
Without darkness there is nothing. 
  Today is my glory. 
   Tonight I am the force that can deny light. 
Witness my power.

  ©MRL (22nd) Dec 2015

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

You Will Be Missed

Michael Hall  R.I.P.
5th August 1950 - 23rd November 2015

We who knew him,
Knew him not well;
Not as a husband,
Nor as a Father;
Or a Grandfather
We knew him not as those.

We knew him
As a Friend,
A Comrade,
A Stalwart,
A Republican,
A Generous Gentle Giant
With a warm ready smile.
Mick Hall
You will be missed.

© MRL Nov 2015

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Paris est Forte


                                      City of Love grieves - Mourns
                                      Lovers laid low - Killed.
                                      By wanton terrorists
                                      Without reprieve - Wounded
                                      Our hearts bleed - Tears

                                      Paris is Strong
                                      History tells of - Warfare
                                      Invader, a Nazi - Neighbour
                                      Black boots in - Boulevards
                                      Ruled savagely - Executed
                                      Resistance & removed Jews.

                                             Paris is Strong !

                                           © MRL 14th Nov 2015

Saturday, October 10, 2015


The Season is getting tired I can feel it in my bones
It is to me late summer my year of three seasons
Now approaches mid October next month is Winter
Cold damp air will burst strongly down upon us.
Swirling fogs slithering with purpose over bogs
Melting fallen leaves into a dark rich mulch.

My old kin knew only Winter, Spring and Summer 
Enough for them and sufficient to feed me.
The vigour of dark nights star filled sparkling
Tangible air crisp vapours secrete silently upwards
Grass crunches like shards of glass under foot
O so strong, this glorious embracing time.

Late December new light is born to minutely stretch
Illuminate an ice coated lake with frost fringed edge
Pillowed snow sleeps quietly to glow under full moon
A covens chant mingles with owls cry as love abides
Waking mother earth to stir revive bring alive babes
Who under hot Summer sun seemingly died.

© MRL  Oct 10th 2015

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Two Echoes of Birr

In a library loft listening
as children’s chirrups 
rise noisily from below
Suddenly no sound
Am I struck deaf ?
No just power of “Shush!”

Sitting sipping coffee
on yellow chair by table
and eating cake.
I see her black bag with decal
of shining silver leaves
with bright picked pearls
Shining brightly.

© MRL Sept 26 2015

Thursday, September 10, 2015


September has warm winds
scintillating sensuously stirring
Floats breeze over trees
as a murmured prayer

The poet is enamoured enraptured, 
awash with tumbled phrases.
Drunkenly adrift, absorbed
by a gently given gift.

© MRL 9/10/2015

Monday, September 7, 2015

Bloggers Be Aware

Beware of mia more

Beware of a sickly slag
Slithering silently
Through dark air
With malicious fangs

Suffering of poison
self administered
Shares her pain
With vacuous vehement

Beware of misanthropy
swimming from the depths
of depravity
Intent on causing trouble

O bloggers beware
and never share.
Do not engage
Delete at source.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

An ode to a Blogger

I’ve been waiting for this final of Romania.
Patiently you know twiddling my fingers,
then anxiously chewing my nails.
Even spent time cutting the grass.
Finally I went on a fast, gave up biscuits,
chocolate too, time went by the poor
reader became thinner and now my
sufferings are over you’ve posted at last!

©MRL Sept 1st 2015
Refers to

Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Future

The Future.

The dust of the future is slowly being created 
by the fumbling trickery hatched in a cauldron
red and black carried by its orphaned children
machinations that conquer bloodlessly. To strip
a humble proud people of ancient roles
trample honoured history under booted foot.

Empires have come, have gone. Traces remain
antique dreams that became cold nightmares, 
now lie shattered tattered on a debit page.
All employees retrained to become slaves
fed on tainted grains and fear - kill their brains
Coded creatures known by numbers - no names.

                     ©MRL July 2015

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

My Journey

I took a walk along the road to see what I could see
wildflowers peeped out and wild bees sung too me
All the while the sun shone gently down over my head 
above it crows and small brown birds flew in warm air.

A hen cackled, a cock crowed in some small stone yard
in the distance a dog barked, I listened to natural sound
Delighted to be me and to stroll in harmony, stopping
here and there to rest or peer through hedgerows.

I saw through bright leaves two heavy horses grazing
one as black as turf, the other dune coloured sand.
I dreamed of a four wheeled bow-top on open road
the clop of hooves, the waft of a tail swinging gently.

A camp site by a slow stream with friends at a wood fire
black tea in my hand, the chatter and companionship.
Perfumed as we were by wild bright colourful woodbine
Lives now only in cherished memory, all gone now, gone.

Awake once more to reality, I turn find a place to sit
fill my old briar pipe to offer smoke as a tribute.
On rising the legs are renewed, the feet soothed
as I take the long road for my cottage home.

© MRL June 2015

Sunday, May 3, 2015

A Bealtain Ode

Bealtáine Joys

O the joys of merry May when lovers to 
 hill sides go hand in hand gaily dancing 
carefree to their hidden bower!

© MRL 1/5/2015

Sunday, February 15, 2015

The Tuareg Man

   This is a poem recently composed by an old friend of mine Lin Hennessy  who lives in Somerset UK. I slowly read it out loud to myself, twice and found it to be very soothing I hope it's images do the same for you.


The spirit of a tuareg man
              came to me, 
                    dressed in the light, the blue of the sky, the blue robes
     He danced for  me
            and for his land
                   so i could see,
   His bare feet touching, 
            on his beloved,
               The SAHARA.
Gentle,...... gentle,
         movement, his feet in tune with the land,
                 the shifting, golden sands
                            and the singing stars
He the axis.
            He wore the blue veil,
                   To hide his beauty
                        But,  I ,  can see his, beauty
                             The harmony of his land.
     So he taught,
           me how to dance again,
                 so i too, 
                          dancing the light,
                           dancing the land.
I thank him, for holding the light
Valentines day 2015

© Lin Hennessy

Saturday, January 10, 2015


Celebrating 72

Having now had a birthday and being undecided 
about my age. Am I twenty-seven or seventy-two 
because I only feel thirty-five inside ?

Site soothed eyes

How enticing looked
each side 
a mountain
green of smooth silk
ripe and lush
Tempted my eyes
lustily to roam
enjoy  savour
sweet freshness
beneath my tongue
to dance over 
swirl sip swallow 
deep inside 
a joy of wonder !

© MRL 11.01.15