Castletroy Words

See Ya, Fella Sometimes you meet someone and you like them, and you can just like them— nothing else needed. And you never get close. They are there in your life, and they make life sweeter just by being themself. You slide the fader up, mic on, and get on with life, broadcast. And so life slips on. We can’t stop the motion. And so they fade out, like a song on the radio. You slide the fader down, turn the mic off. Transmission ends. See ya, fella.

Legs I used to grumble about legs— mine don’t work well. But now I think how wonderful they are: to perambulate all around, wherever I wish. I can say, I will go there, and the legs say, okay, and off we go, movement steered by brain. And so we enjoy the Shannon, and the park, and shopping—well, maybe not. And then the legs get me home.

Head to Wind Life is sailing out on the bay — you haul the sheets so you’re not blown every which way, you watch the wind and the tide, trim the sails to soften the ride. Sometimes the waves crash over and you laugh at the shock of cold water, you hold the helm to stay afloat, watch the cardinal markers and steer clear — avoid the passing ships. You watch the lights on the harbour wall, watch the ebbing tide so you’re not left stranded, line up your markers and tack across the bay. It’s hard — the wind, the waves — and you’re tired, bones and breath tired, so you turn head to wind and rest.

Christmas in Limerick So I’m here for Christmas, just as I wished and prayed, I’ve seen the lights on O’Connell Street, and the tree. I’ve been to Mass, watched candles flicker in the glow, sung the familiar carols, and greeted friends I know. I went to Dublin, exchanged gifts, cards, and words, walked the dog on the beach in the dark, and watched the Christmas lights shimmer across the water, then I came home. My only home. Limerick, my last stop. Tonight the cold blue sky faded into a glorious sunset as Mass began. The church was crowded, families returned, and I was so happy just to be here. It was all I wanted: to share this joy with strangers who feel like family, to stand in the city I love, my last stop, my home. Joy and tears carry this Christmas in, here in Limerick, my last stop.

I'm recovering from the 2025 winter flu and It leaves deadly tiredness. It's 8 days from Christmas and in the last few days I've gone into town but I get too tired to do anything about Christmas. Today and yesterday the same, I go in with lists, I can't do anything, everything is so busy and crowded and I get tired and hopeless, I get milk for tea and I get food for supper and I come home and back to bed. Several high profile musicians and singers have said bed is a good place to be if you need inspiration, and I wrote a brand new poem in bed today, it's 'Galtymore, my compass, and the words for it have been blooming over the past few weeks, waiting to be arranged:  Galtymore, my compass. Here we are in our little world, guarded by the Silvermines, the Galtees curled. Seen and unseen, they shelter us all, and Galtymore stands, my compass, my call. If we’re driving down Mount Meelick’s way, the Galtees wave on the horizon, capped in grey. If I go down to bel...

Sitting in bed and working through poems published and unpublished. Even though I've been coughing a little bit of blood, I'm breathing well enough to get the all clear for now, so I'm home in bed, I probably shouldn't be looking at a computer screen while my head is raging, but I was never good at sleeping off sickness, I slept part of yesterday and that should suffice.  I'm showcasing Monaleen Church as I think it's one of my best. It's a story, a conversation with and about a number of people but two leads. When it talks about the Easter Vigil, that's me. Or is it? You can all see that stretch of Dublin Road in the poem. Monaleen Church I remember from childhood, the rain on the stone and earth of the walls at Castletroy. I remembered—but couldn’t tell you—the feeling: sitting in the day services, looking out at the rain. I remember you. I could read you, though you didn’t know. You meant well. I miss you. I remember Groody and Golf Links, Dublin Road...

I’ll start by remembering, Something I don’t often do, Trying to draw back the veil, And bring back memories of you. I’m sad there’s little good I find, Not much light I can see, When I search back through my mind For what used to be. I did my best for your sake, But you were never grateful. I tried my best to keep you safe, Yet in return—you’ve been hateful. I carried your burdens for years, Though none of them were mine. You taught me silence and fear, Then called it “doing fine.” I learned to smile through sorrow, To mend what you would break, To dream of kinder tomorrows For everyone’s sake. But love can’t bloom in shadows, Or in a house of blame. You burned the bridges we needed— And still, I took the flame. Now I stand in the ashes, Breathing, scarred, but free. Your ghosts can’t chain me anymore— They have no claim on me. So let the distance stand between, A mercy, cold and true. No bridge, no bond, no beckoning Just silence left of you. I’ve made my peace with parting, No wish,...

Anniversary I still scream in nightmares that nothing can heal. I still scream— I still scream inside— because those nightmares were real. I wake, and it wasn’t a dream. So I scream, and I scream, but no one ever hears me. Then one day, God was kind. He reached out in poetic justice and eased my hurting mind. I still carry the horror, the shattered parts, but there is more peace in my heart. For Brendan, Ger and Leah, with thanks. 

So I let go.  So I let go— after holding on so tight, so long. Remembering you in memory, in word, in song. I turned back toward you one more time, took your dear hand in mine. Wished I could see that smile, keep it with me for a while. But I held your hands one last time— love and tears overflowing— and walked away.