Sometimes life leaves you wordless. You drift in obligations or little multiplied tasks. You grasp for every syllable. You slide through the mud of lost words. Until you sit with yourself and listen. Your heart still beats. You pick up your pen and write your name. One word. The beginning of all that was lost. […]
Invisible threads connect us in time-storms to our loved ones on this windswept day and blue-moon night. 31.10.2020 Halloween © By #AndreaCConnolly
Originally posted on Captain´s Log:
Open letter to all I deeply care for My dear All of a sudden we were stopped in our tracks, the ones that we were used to take. We stand on our own now, sometimes wobbly, sometimes strong. Hanging our heads would be giving in to the gravity. And…
Originally posted on Captain´s Log:
? St. Brigid´s Cross, Sea grass, handmade – photograph by Andrea Connolly ? Reeds her home Sea grass her cloak She weaves And breathes life In brokenness Brigid upon the isle . ©By Andrea Connolly #AndreaCConnolly #Lore #Saints #Folklore
What is in a word? The difference between speaking and being silent The importance of sounding right The essence of connecting or disengagement A word can be heard when someone listens A word can be read if someone sees A word needs senses to understand and to be understood A word can heal or […]
The mystic blackforest The sky threw a shroud Too flimsy to cover it all The colourful tree tops That root in brooked valleys Thread autumn to grey-cold The gust of wind-strewn Time-worm ochre, sienna Tinged sap and wine This is the fabric of fairy-tales 30.10.2018 © By Andrea Connolly
Through my eyes my soul flies to glints of reflection. A mosaic opens a window that is there and is not there. Drawn to an artists impression of a crowned lady. Connection in my heart to our lady. Angels flutter and kneel. The king, the queen, human beings and yet not so much. An image […]
Captain´s Log 
Your poem belongs to a very ancient tradition of combining the ingredients for various nostra against everyday maladies into a verse form. This could be easily passed down from generation to generation. It could even have been sung. In this regard it may pre-date writing. Not only have you resuscitated this, but you have deepened and broadened it.
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Thanks Ciaran, this is a feedback on my poem THE EIGHT I suppose, on Captain´s Log.
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