Bill Clohesy – a writer in his own residence.
When I was a kid I used to write, tear it up and throw it away because writing wasn’t a man’s thing to do. One day an Uncle who I was staying with came to me with what I had torn up – what’s this? I found it in the rubbish bin. I admitted it was mine and said I threw it out because I didn’t like it. That’s when he made me promise never to throw my writing, my ideas, away. Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean somebody else won’t like it.
The first poem I ever really wrote was called ‘Red’ and it didn’t make the school annual, but I kept it. I also had a book of verse ‘Up until Now’ bound when I was twenty. I still ... more »
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Road Of Ancient Tara's Ruin
Road of Ancient Tara's Ruin
Two dogs bark
A man nods and
the pilgrims shield
the flames on the hill
known as Tara.
For if Ireland has a heart- it beats in Tara.
Tara. Mating bed of sun and soil where
fire was born and water bled from
stone. Where winds blew seed
that fed the men of Eire.
Tara - Seat of Kings - not born - but fought
and Druid sworn. Where poet, priest and
pauper stood – arm in arm to hold the line
a thousand years. Nay! five thousand years
this lore of Eire.
This rising hill - where men
in battle roared...