Cranfields Holy Well Poem by Barney Rooney

Cranfields Holy Well

find the road to Cranfield's holy well
where Antrim's fields give way
to dark edged hedge and jagged ends
of stunted trees and wetland sedge
dander on down past the chapel
to the black stoned shores of Lough Neagh
where the tree is hung
with votive tinsel, plastic knots
cotton strips and infant socks
hanging unsettled by a breeze
that lifts the waters to bright ripples
and chafes the reeds to whisper dry
where solemn swans consumed with self
remind the spirits that dance and cry
of the desperate faith that brought us here

Sunday, November 24, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: prayer
Denis Mair 16 February 2016

I have encountered atmospheres like this, for instance on Cape Perpetua in Yachats, Oregon. There is a memorial to a blind native woman who suffered greatly in her lifetime. The memorial is reachable by Amanda's Trail. Your phrases votive tinsel, plastic knots and cotton strips would make a good description for the decorations left around Amanda's stature. Now you have me wanting to write a poem about this. I'm rating your poem a 10, Your poem uncannily reminds me of mine: The Tank at the End of Sanskrit Street, Gokarna. Both poems are about the special atmosphere around a small body of water. In my way I express a thought similar to yours: to scan and frame this place of pilgrimage/ takes more sense than the eye.

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Noreen Carden 27 November 2013

Hello Barney i love this poem there are quite a few holy wells in my area.The last seven lines of your poem are absolutely beautiful i felt i had taken a dander to stand at the holy well [lovely word dander] i give this a ten

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