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cusick
Senior Member

since 2003-07-27

Posts 668

0 posted 2003-08-07 09:44 AM

HIMSELF AND SINGE

They walk the bogs and boreens
Himself and Synge,
sketching his thoughts
on minute pads
as the fields of Conammoragh
stroll beneath their feet.

The pads they dicards
to the vagaries of the winds
Their message etched deep within.

They found everyone
of interest and charm.
No tale so boring or
farfetched
to hold their attention.

They was told of the mass fleeings
To the land of plenty,
Where gold littered the streets
And wondered at their return,

until their eyes were tempted
to the lush green fields
catching up to the mountains,
And they nodded.

They heard of the
poverty and sadness.
The endless scratching
of soil for sustenance.

And they saw the beauty
As they tramped the
hills of Conammoragh,
Himself and the stalwart,
dying Singe.

SharaRose
Member Elite

since 2003-07-19

Posts 2501
Somewhere out there~

1 posted 2003-08-07 05:50 PM

I was intrigued with this in that it seemed like two on a trek. In their travels they found people that were interesting and at one time were writing things down that came to mind, and then it came to a point there was no need...they just became imbedded in them and had no need to write it down anymore. I am probably way off, but this is how I struck with this write. Nice story in this!!!!!