Brian P FitzGerald Poems

My heart is held in icy grip
A biting wind now takes my breath
Along the path I struggle and slip
Before me dance the wraiths of death.
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speaking of shocking things
as people do these days
i noted an incident in the centre last week
which really made my blood run cold
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We gather today to wish you health -
Wæs hæl, wæs hæl a toast to all;
For you we raise a glass for wealth
A heartfelt toast that's not too small.
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Spare a moment to salute the dead;
(Grieve oh grieve for victims who died!)
Facing religious extremists in dread,
For their god their lives denied.
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The morning wakes: the sun’s misty rays
Touch yonder crest
Of Middleton Wold above the hazy vale
T’wards the distant west.
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I Hear the Church Bells Ringing Now
- A Land of Milk and Honey

The bells now ring across the vale
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I

No soul sees:
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Where Moses Crossed the Nuwebian Shore


He ponders the tide caressing the beach -
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1831

At my desk I sit and stare,
An etching, old, dusty and grey -
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I hear the waves below the cliffs,
I smell the new-ploughed soil,
I hear the gentle whirr of bees
And watch the clouds pass me by.
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