Community website for Millstreet, Co. Cork, Ireland
It has been a while since i walked by Finnow
And in a rushy field heard the soft lowing of a cow
After sundown in the twilight of the day
In the prime of the Spring on an evening in May
It has been a while near the Town of Millstreet
That i walked in the field where the waterways meet
And heard dark brown water bird dipper with breast white as snow
Singing his scratchy song where the river rapids did flow
[read more …] “It Has Been A While Since I Walked By Finnow”
Since from there I have been quite a long time away
I would be a stranger to many in Ballydaly today
By the Boggeragh Ranges far inland from Hibernia’s shore
In the Parish of Millstreet on the road to Rathmore
At the end of the Autumn with Winter quite near
It is cool and wet in Ballydaly in November of the year
Clara, Gortavehy and Caherbarnagh half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
And brown storm water flowing in every roadside and field drain
The people of Ballydaly as I recall have a charm of their own
Where today I would be a stranger to many where I once was well known
But this is going back some three decades ago
And time as we know becomes everyone’s foe
Millstreet, quaint and quiet village
Nestling mid your emerald hills
Though I see you but in memory
How my heart with rapture thrills.
Gentle stream & busy mill-wheel
Smile beneath the summer sky
Church & convent calm & peaceful
Welcome still the passer by
Friends the nearest, friends the dearest
I can see them now at will
And the sunshine of their kindness
So abiding with me still
He worked for farmers and for town people shlauned peat for winter fuel
The mighty man John Kelleher better known as Jack The Mule
One of Duhallow’s best workmen on his day
Though his working efforts seldom matched by pay
A tall broad shouldered man he was as strong as two
Without much effort the hardest work he could do
Yet to himself he was not a good friend
Most of his hard earned wages on alcohol he did spend
That he was not one to mess with was obviously quite clear
The mighty Jack he was a man to fear
He never once was beaten in a brawl
And he left many a big Duhallow bully feeling small
[read more …] “John Kelleher Better Known As Jack The Mule”
Stone upon stone the bell tower rises outside my window,
a protestant ruin of the village church. You belonged
to Drishane Castle. You belonged to the people.
The ringer gently bowed to the lintel, climbed
narrow stone steps spiraling, to call worshipers to holy communion.
Years later, Tidy Towns filled your belfry with a white-faced clock.
I raise the linen shade, wake to your dial, Black Roman numerals
go round and round. You move through my tea and egg.
I notice the time as I am off to the shop for the Guardian
and lamb. You are my companion as I play with poems
and read Passing Through. I stroll in the deep grass,
rubbing old tombstones, no longer legible.
You move through my days until you wane in the light
of the evening and fade at the unfairness of fate.
“The Clock Tower” is by Sandra Ann Winters
Bio: Sandra Ann Winters is the winner of the 2011 Gregory O’Donoghue International Poetry Competition, and a Pushcart nominee, having won numerous poetry awards and commendations in the United States. She is the author of a full-length poetry collection The Place Where I Left You (Salmon Poetry 2014), and [read more …] “The Clock Tower”
Denis O’Mahony the Inchaleigh mountain climber the man who has climbed to the summit of many a hill
In his early to his mid sixties as is said time does not stand still
He has a passion for hill climbing the steep heights he does not fear
He has been climbing mountains for many a year
One of the O’Mahonys of Clara he first climbed Clara mountain as a young boy
He has climbed many higher peaks since then the challenge of the climb he enjoy
The man who does love climbing mountains though his best days in the forever gone
But age does not weary brave Denis the man who does keep climbing on
I left Duhallow but Duhallow followed
And the Boggeragh hills are never far away
In Finnow pools the trout for flies are jumping
And I see the cross on Clara every day.
The stream from the mountain lake of Gortavehy
Down through the bracken splashes on it’s way
Joined by small rills it swells into a river
Before it reach the flat fields of Liscreagh.
Of the fields of Claraghatlea North where I came from
I once said were a memory in decay
But of them I’ve found a new mental picture
Resplendent in their wildflowers of the May.
I left Duhallow but Duhallow followed
And the green fields and the woodlands I still see
I drive up the high hill through Cullen village
And take the road that leads to Knocknagree. [read more …] “I Left Duhallow, but Duhallow Followed”
On a cold and wild December morn
In a field down under old Blackthorn
In a rushy patch the brown hare slept
As through the field a dog fox crept.
The big red fox’s cunning mate
A vixen waited by the gate
There by the gate she quietly lay
She knew the hare would come this way.
Upwind the fox was drawing near
He did not wish the hare to hear
For him it was a hungry night
And badly did he need a bite.
But the hare awoke and pricked one ear
He sensed danger was somewhere near
Then bolted from his cushy seat
This hare would not be easy meat.
Out of the rushes he did race
The angry fox was quick to chase
He ran the field up to the gate
Where the hidden vixen lay in wait. [read more …] “The Blackthorn Hare”
In life there is laughter and sorrow and tears
But good memories do last through the decades of years
The good memories are ours a lifetime to enjoy
And i have good memories of Claraghatlea as a boy
Back in the late fifties a long time ago
The Murphy cousins musicians Jackie and Neily Joe
Had a dancing timber platform in Claraghatlea on a quarter of ground owned by Matty Owen
The old memories in me by time have not been outgrown
On Summer evenings at the timber platform a kilometer west of Millstreet Town
Neily Joe and Jackie Murphy played music until after sundown
To their hearts delight for three hours or more
The men and women of Millstreet west danced around the platform floor [read more …] “The Hokey Pokey In Claraghatlea”
On a budding birch tree the male robin on song
Near where old Finnow river goes babbling along
Though the wind from the high country by Clara Hill
Does blow with a touch of a wintry chill
In mid March in the earlier days of the Spring
When the early nesting birds are commencing to sing
The swallows not yet back on their breeding ground
And the chill of the Winter it is still around
And the old Finnow River in flood waters of brown
Babbles through the fields and bogs by Millstreet Town
Though in shady places by ditch and hedgerow
The wildflowers of Nature in the blustery winds blow
Where Finnow from the high country the Cails does meet
Just west of the Duhallow Town of Millstreet.
Happy childhood memories the best memories of all
And my younger years in Millstreet I will always recall
On evenings in Summer up to the mid Fall
In the Townpark at the West End we played gaelic football
My friends of my youth where might they be today
Like me have the years left them balder and gray
Though some of them in the home Parish did stay
In life one might say we just went our own way
Since those days so many years have come and gone
And time does not wait it just ticks on and on
Many of the friends of my youth I may not see again
Though good memories of them with me does remain
And in fancy I chase the football up and down
With my happy young friends in the Park of the Town.
[read more …] “Happy Childhood Memories”
On looking back the Seasons that time does go quickly happens to be so
Pat Duggan left Claraghatlea five decades ago
He went off to New York for a new start in life
Where he married Lisheen born and raised Kathy Looney his soul mate and wife
A religious man to his beliefs quite true
He lived as a good person for to give him his due
He never harmed anyone in any way
In him what was a loss to Millstreet was a gain to the U S of A
One of the eldest of my siblings Pat as i recall
As a young man never played Hurling or Gaelic Football
In a sporting mad Parish where his was a known and well liked face
He was one of those who did seem out of place
[read more …] “Pat Duggan”
When Brendan Murphy was in his physical prime of time one must go back a span
Ballydaly’s last blacksmith farrier he was quite a man
He shod his last working horse in his forge in his brother Eddy’s backyard
For his livelihood he is one who did work quite hard
Tall and lean and dark haired and physically quite strong
Ballydaly’s last blacksmith farrier to a rare breed belong
The hooves of the last working horse, mule, jennet and donkey he did pare
Since the demise of the last working equines blacksmith farriers have become rare
[read more …] “Ballydaly’s Last Blacksmith Farrier”
The cattle in the farmyard sheds bellowing for silage or hay
It is cold and wet by the Mountain of Clara today
The weather temperature a chilly minus three degrees
And the cold wind is soughing in bare deciduous trees
In the old rushy fields west of Millstreet Town
Every waterway bank high in flood waters of brown
Where grass growth is dormant not any wildflowers
And nothing does grow in cold January showers
[read more …] “By The Mountain Of Clara Today”
Tadghy Duggan of Millstreet was one of the first if not the first in Duhallow to sell the first make of Hotpoint washing machine
To the housewives of the nineteen fifties this was the best thing that they ever had seen
In his truck he brought machines to homes for to give a washing display
And it was known that he sold quite a few washing machines every day
Tadghy Duggan the first i knew of in Duhallow when not many in Ireland
Could speak in French and the words of different languages did understand
For the most part self educated he was one of a brilliant mind
And it could be truly said of him that he was one of a rare kind
Since he was one in thinking who did seem well ahead of his time
And it did seem a pity that he did leave Millstreet when he was in his life’s prime
For to travel and try out his luck in the big World out there
And what was a huge loss to Duhallow was surely a gain to elsewhere [read more …] “Tadghy Duggan”
On the last time i saw Clara it wore a hat of snow
And Finnow bank high in the rushy fields with a loud babble did flow
On towards the great Blackwater on that bleak December day
And the hungry cattle in the farmyard sheds were bellowing for silage or hay
As i boarded the bus for Rosslare in the Square of Millstreet Town
From the gray sky of early evening the rain was drizzling down
I was just one of the many in Duhallow back then not rare
Who took the migrant ferry for Fishguard at the harbor of Rosslare
Unlike the migratory swallow i did not return in Spring
Though often in my [read more …] “Since The Last Time I Saw Clara”
Bernard O’Donoghue had this piece on his father at the Shorelines Arts Festival in Portumna, which appeared on the Sunday Miscellany (RTÉ Radio 1) on September 27th. The imagery is fantastic.
This week Cullen native Bernard O’Donoghue was added to the Irish Poetry Reading Archive, which is part of a project to create a central repository for poetry readings by Irish poets and writers, which tries to capture and preserve the rich and diverse landscape of poetry in Ireland. The collection captures the voice of the poet reading a selection of their work, and giving a very brief overview of the context and circumstances that influenced the writing of the poem. Below are nine videos of Bernards poems, and also at the end, a long video in which he talks about the beauty of the work of Seamus Heaney:
Ter Conatus – on a brother and sister that live their lives on a farm together until one of them dies and the other is left alone
[read more …] “Bernard O’Donoghue added to the Irish Poetry Reading Archive”
Poet Bernard O’Donoghue reads his poem “In Millstreet Hospital” [more] [read more …] “Bernard O’Donoghue reads his poem “In Millstreet Hospital””
So humble and gentle and free of conceit
She was one of the nicest people of Millstreet
So sad for to learn Ann Cronin has passed away
In the quietness of St Mary’s she is at peace today
A good mother to her children and to the late Kevin Cronin a good wife
Ann Corkery her maiden name she lived an honorable life
The youngest of three girls a sister to Margaret and Noreen
In the past in Millstreet’s West End out walking she often was seen
But this is going back many Seasons in time
When i was much younger and nearer to my life’s prime
And though Ann is one of many i have not seen for years
I feel sure her parting from life would not have gone without tears
For she was a beautiful person indeed
And of more of her kind the Human World is in need
She never sought the limelight or of anyone had a bad word to say
And about her she did have a beautiful way
[read more …] “Ann Cronin”
Good memories remain to her a source of joy
Of when she was the young Rose of old Lisnaboy
When her shoulder length dark hair had a glossy sheen
Some of the bigger World out there since then she has seen
A young beauty of eyes blue as a ripened sloe
But going back in time this now seems long ago
With dark hair dyes nowadays she cloaks her gray
And she use anti aging creams to smooth hand neck and face wrinkles away
Far from Duhallow a mother, grandmother and to an aging man an aging wife
One can say she has seen her better days in life
She left green Duhallow when in her life’s prime
And this is going back many Seasons in time
[read more …] “The Young Rose Of Old Lisnaboy”
St Mary’s Cemetery by Cashman’s Hill
So quiet in the gray of the dawn in the slight morning chill
Where many of the deceased of Millstreet Town and Parish in their final rest lay
The mentors and parents as well as family members of the Millstreet people of today
They lived as an integral part of their community and in Duhallow were well liked and well known
And they like us all did have ways of their own
Some of their descendants live in Millstreet today
Whilst others from there are living far away
[read more …] “St Mary’s Cemetery By Cashman’s Hill”
The little mottled brown skylark of human kind shy
Up to the cloud World does sing as he fly
A musical speck in the blue and gray sky
Above Clara mountain in summery July
When the whortleberries the tiny blue fruits of the heather are ripe for to eat
From Nature to the taste buds such a tasty treat
From the slopes of Clara on a clear day on the higher ground
The scenery breathtaking for many kilometers around
Beyond Millstreet Town it’s fame did travel far
The licensed premises owned by Catherine Duggan known as The Blue Dog Bar
Long deceased Millstreet’s most beautiful woman when in her life’s prime
Though this is going back many decades in time
Catherine a young widow with a large young family to raise
Was a woman who never did cease to amaze
Her children all quite successful became known far and wide
Far beyond the borders of Duhallow’s green countryside
[read more …] “The Blue Dog Bar”
The man who owned the stud stallions Rambling Boy and Rising Light
And who was widely known as the man to kill the blight
In fancy i do see Denny Murray today
On horse drawn sprayer spraying the potato gardens from here far away
Though of love he did have a few flings in his life
Denny Murray he did not have children or wife
From his late teens to his mid fifties he lived on the wild side
And beyond Ballydaly became known far and wide
[read more …] “Denny Murray Was Our Hero”
With such wonderful memories how could anyone feel poor
Of the nesting songbirds singing in the groves of Annagloor
And the hawthorns looking resplendent in their white blossoms of the May
And the old fields in their wildflowers green and beautiful today
And the dark brown birds of the waterways of breast as white as snow
The dipper he is singing where the babbling Cails does flow
Where i first grew to love Nature years ago as a young boy
And today learning of her ways is a thing i do enjoy [read more …] “May In Annagloor”
An old time story teller from decades ago
He was quite a character Mick Connie O
One who had lived through two World wars and had fought the black and tan
And in his younger years quite a well traveled man
As he spun a good yarn or told a good joke
He puffed on his pipe and blew out some smoke
Coolikerane’s greatest story teller when i was a boy
Good memories of him remain as a source of joy [read more …] “Memories Of Mick Connie O”
Sandra Ann Winters is an American poet, and frequent visitor to Ireland. She owns a home in Millstreet, County Cork, where she regularly spends time reading and writing. From 1986 to her retirement in 2010, she served as a [read more …] “Write Yourself ! Writing Workshop”
In nineteen fifty two my brother John in his late teens left Millstreet
New challenges in life he wished to meet
He was the eldest of our family
Perhaps a dozen years older than me
His travels took him to the U S A
From Claraghatlea in distance far away
Tall and athletic his hair was chestnut brown
He was one never more to see old Millstreet Town
Memories of my early lessons in Nature’s ways to me remain a source of joy
I loved the old rushy fields of Lisnaboy
When wildflowers were on the ditch of the bohreen
And the countryside was looking healthy and green
The Boggeragh Ranges a beautiful sight
Clara, Gortavehy, Kippagh and Caherbarnagh in the evening sunlight
Displayed a calm and a natural charm of their own
Such beautiful memories a joy to have known
[read more …] “Memories Of Lisnaboy”
