A Big White Countryman’s Head Poem by Paddy Glackin

His line were honed from the earth
they could tell a yarn, and knew the
birds, the trees, the turn of the year,
and signs of real bad weather (including a furze around the moon)

With a big white countryman’s sconebread head.
Slitted eyes squinted through centuries of deep thought
A shock of mad hair, face lined like bark
gentle soul, brain of granite and listening ear. Talking once

Thinking twice he was born in the right age,
not needed to till or fill, just to think and grow
His country head gulging with eagerness and desire
Twirling a word through the churn of a skull

From the earth and off the earth
from the air and off the air, in the air
His spirit swirling in boot held feet
Anchored in shadow of Carntogher

PG 2014