My Place
I will not tell you where it is.
I may show you, if I feel a tug,
a connection, if I can tell
you are one of us
who find it ours.
You will not find it otherwise.
Words: Elaine McKeough. Image: JesseJames
elsewhere
in the dream talk
the tang of salt
Contemporary Haiku inspired by Inis Oirr from Anton Kinsella, County Cork. Anton’s Haiku will be weaving their way into the pages of the Inisheer Zibaldone.
So the Shortest day came, and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive,
And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us – listen!!
All the long echoes sing the same delight,
This shortest day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!
Image: JesseJames. Words: Susan Cooper.
the brush tip
washes onto paper
an ocean wave
Image: JesseJames, detail from zibaldone page. Words: Contemporary Haiku from Anton Kinsella, County Cork.
the fort
aristocracies long gone
but for the stones
Image: James Francis Moore. Words: Contemporary Haiku by Anton Kinsella, County Cork.
from the north
a veering wind
you lean into me
Contemporary Haiku inspired by Inis Oirr from Anton Kinsella, County Cork. Anton’s Haiku will be weaving their way into the pages of the Inisheer Zibaldone.
My Place
I will not tell you where it is.
I may show you, if I feel a tug,
a connection, if I can tell
you are one of us
who find it ours.
You will not find it otherwise.
Words: Elaine McKeough. Image: JesseJames
Rust-stained storm beach
ship irons blister
becoming geology
Words and Image: Aodhán Rilke.
island pride
resists prizing
the limpet’s suck
Images: JesseJames. Words: Contemporary Haiku inspired by Inis Oirr by Anton Kinsella, County Cork.
Just leave yourself open to the possibility
That one dawn you wake to fi nd your mind clear,
One dawn you win back the love you derailed,
One dawn you kick the habit of blaming yourself.
One dawn you will wake to hear a clear signal,
A wavelength unmuffl ed by inference or static,
You will recognise the DJ’s voice as your own
Advertising a unique extravaganza treasure hunt
Where each clue is a signpost through your past.
You will walk through a maze of sleeping estates,
Collecting golden tickets concealed amid mistakes
Made when addiction stopped you thinking straight.
That dawn, when fi gures emerge amidst the chaos,
You will walk forward, unafraid to embrace happiness.
Words: Dermot Bolger
The Zibaldone Project 