Margaret O Driscoll
Margaret O Driscoll Poems
Manicured ornate show gardens
To attract visitors, the goal
Flower beds neat and fancy
But the wild calls my soul
...
The sands of time eroded that
broad smile from your face but
of that carefree ebullient character
I still can see some trace
...
Awed by its architecture
I step inside
Gigantic Gothic arches
Rise on either side
...
I took a trip down memory lane
along the byways last September
Pointing out familiar places
and events I well remember
...
Bull frogs loudly croaking croaking
Amid pond lilies in the midday sun
A black swan displayed his annoyance
head held high strutting at everyone
...
Crossing a wooden bridge
To get to the wood beyond
I glimpse an otter diving
Just beside me in a pond
...
Their work dictated by the tides
Some days they picked at first light
Baskets strapped to their shoulders
...
A circular fort on the brow of a hill
I walk back in time as I go in
Moss covers the exterior ditch
Ancient beeches flourish within
...
I wish for them a curious mind
answers to questions they pose
I wish for them a love of nature
interest in all that grows
...
Come lie with me on warm grass awhile
Inhale the sweet clover, the scent of pure soil
Walk hand in hand beneath hawthorn trees
White petals floating by in a warm gentle breeze
...
I've known years and years of deepest pain
I've been forged in many a fire
Tempered like steel I now stand
The flames were high but I rose higher
...
Walking along in a light shower
In a quiet spot, for peace to seek
Flying overhead by the trees
A collared dove, a twig in it's beak
...
High rise flats, high rise birches
Obscuring, softening the scale,
Yellow tulip buds in elastic bands
Babushkas hoping for a sale.
...
Storks nests piled on pylons
Along the motorway
A stop to buy handcrafted gifts
From a roadside stall display
...
A tranquil last resting place
I take in the views
Down below, a winding river
Above, the heaven's hues
...
Babushkas gather fallen branches
Broken by winter's freeze
Whitewash is painted on the base
Of a row of chestnut trees
...
Cahersiveen, O'Connell's birthplace sweet
All it's friendly residents I was blessed to meet
Hills so heavenly rising high above
Every wildflower reminders of God's love
...
Margaret O Driscoll Biography
Margaret is a very busy mother of seven and grandmother of eleven.She is a poetry writer, curator and editor who lives in Co' Cork, Ireland. She likes to write poems about nature and about funny incidents but also writes about serious issues which affect many people. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and magazines, one is reproduced by Hodder Education UK for a GCSE English Literature publication. Her poems have been translated into Polish, Bulgarian, Finnish, Persian, Punjabi, Ukrainian, Russian, Irish and Serbian. She self published her first collection of poetry in 2016, 'The Best Things In Life Are Free', it has received many rave reviews and it's available to buy online at Lettertec Books. One of her poems 'In The Forest' is reproduced in the current journal of the Society of Classical Poets. Her calendar poem for children, 'Children's Nature Guide' is published in an international children's poetry book, 'Let's Play Together'. She's a Social Care Worker and likes walking, singing, dancing, and reading, to unwind. She loves to spend time with her grandchildren exploring, gardening, watching films and cooking.)
The Best Poem Of Margaret O Driscoll
The Wild Calls My Soul
Manicured ornate show gardens
To attract visitors, the goal
Flower beds neat and fancy
But the wild calls my soul
From the woods I hear a chiffchaff
Such a special sound and sight
By remote farm outbuildings
I spot a barn owl one night
By their nests in a sand dune
Sand martins swish by overhead
At a quiet reed edged lake
A moorhen, glint of bill red
A gracious gift to the soul
For each adult and child
Ramble off the beaten track
Go to where it's wild
Margaret O Driscoll Comments
Your poetic talent express throgh your poems. I really congratulate you.excellent!
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9/22/2023 9:04:37 PM # 1.0.0.1113
Love the bio a real woman I bow