Ballyvourney-via-California poet Ashley O'Neal takes us on a walk through the woods to St Gobnait's Cemetery, renowned as the resting place of poets and musicians, and reads a poem at the holy well.
When I was young my father and his aunt often dragged me to Gobnaits Shrine from the Kerry side. I was impatient and horrified at having to drink from the shared cup at the well, the crowd were old and whiskery. Later I’d wander through the wood by myself and end up making a cross on the stones, the pattern deep from thousands of hands
When I was young my father and his aunt often dragged me to Gobnaits Shrine from the Kerry side. I was impatient and horrified at having to drink from the shared cup at the well, the crowd were old and whiskery. Later I’d wander through the wood by myself and end up making a cross on the stones, the pattern deep from thousands of hands
Amazing memory to have...and a beautifully written comment with more than a hint of poetry to it!