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Poem

Posted: Sat Oct 04, 2008 6:34 pm
by Eamonn McGinty
Boom Hall



It is the winter

Of an empty voice.

The broken bell

A hanging tongue

From dry stone wall,

The doorway mouth

A silent witness

Of all the years,

It was a place

Of breath, and

In its window

A black crow sings

The song of ageless

Death, far out along

These darkening banks.

Alone and still

The old house rests;

Two hundred winters

By a riverside.



Eamonn McGinty

Re: Poem

Posted: Sat Oct 04, 2008 6:55 pm
by Louis P. Burns aka Lugh
Eamonn McGinty wrote:Boom Hall



It is the winter

Of an empty voice.

The broken bell

A hanging tongue

From dry stone wall,

The doorway mouth

A silent witness

Of all the years,

It was a place

Of breath, and

In its window

A black crow sings

The song of ageless

Death, far out along

These darkening banks.

Alone and still

The old house rests;

Two hundred winters

By a riverside.



Eamonn McGinty

That really is a wee gem of a poem Eamonn. It conjours up all those days, around this time of the year, when summer has slept through autumn and wakened in winter to the chills beginning to rise.

Boom Hall, what an enchanted place. I hope they never knock it down. In fact, I think we should all begin a campaign to have it listed, protected and refurbished. It would make a prime location for many local film companies seeking 19th Century settings, and create several much needed job opportunities for trades people and trainees...