Mary Egan Campbell

“Little Town”

I was raised in a little town

In the heart of the bog

Where real magic abounds

Rises up out of the sod

History books won’t reflect

She amounted to much

But the people of Clara

Are blessed with good luck 

On an ancient trail from east to west 

Where weary travellers took stock

St Brigid rested her head 

On Esker Riada Rock

And Built her little church there

Formed the Parish of Kilbride

Blessing the place forever

And those who therein reside

Like the mists in the morning

That shroud Chapel Hill

Magic rises from the boglands

And flows through the Mill

Karen Slammon

“Where I’m from”

I am heat and steam.
I am thread and loom.
I am conduit and pliers.
I am hawk and trowel.
I am sorrow and grief.
I am the echo of my ancestors beat. I am song and note.
I am word and story.
Recollections of old.
Woven tapestry of truth and fiction. I am scale and fur.
I am light and laughter.
I am water and weave.
I am prayer and crumb.
I am little.
I am faithful.
I am loved.
I am me.

KSlammon©allrightsreserved

Andrew Dignam

“Droplets of Time”

As you open your eyes, anticipate,
New paths to walk,
Firm steps to take,
Changing directions ignore Fate,
Onto Life's hills to climb, and bright dawns to wake.

And remember,
Spun in seconds brief,
measured by a Sun ray,
Droplets of time so fragile,
Life is a miracle of moments,
wrapped up in the hours of a Day.