The Glade #writephoto

I haven’t taken part in many writing challenges recently. Quite honestly, its all been a bit of a struggle for a while, writing and researching for the blog, keeping up with all your lovely blogs and comments, writing books and all my motherly duties as well. Sometimes everything seems to conspire to suck the inspiration out of you, and it’s a downward spiral from there.

But Sue’s picture really spoke to me; it reminded me of all the old places of Ireland I love with my heart and soul and bones. I need to pay some visits. In the meantime, I wrote this, and added a poem I started when I was about 17, but only finished last year. It seems to fit the prompt. At least to me.

the glade

Beards of moss drape old stones with velvet softness. Stark-raw and already ancient, these great stone-bones once teased and tortured from the earth into grey new skeletons, wherein men danced and dreamed and viewed the stars, survive in hunched fragments of former glory.

Now tumbled and crumbling, they lie discarded, forgotten, memories of magic dormant yet still alive throbbing within them. You can feel it if you touch them, feel the vibration in the air on your skin. Be still.

The earth remembers. Time is meaningless here; there is no rush. She feels her way, creeping slowly over recumbent remains, claiming lost treasure torn from her flesh. She heals the hurt without reproach while no one notices.

ancient places
What cities lie buried beneath each hill?
Monuments born of ancient times,
Forgotten and lost but standing still,
Neglected, disconnected, these are our crimes.

What histories are etched into ancient stones?
Tales decayed with the fall of walls,
The sag of dynasty, the crumble of bones,
The march of ghosts through tumbled halls.

If we could learn to unlock the past
What shrouds would unfurl from our eyes?
Would realisation be ours at last?
Understanding the what, when, who and why's.

The power was strong, up on Shee Mor,
I felt at great peace, content.
At Moytura, where warriors fought their war
no harm for me was meant.

At Uisneach, by the lough where Lugh was drowned
I grieved for Eire's loss, watched Beltaine fires leap.
Then to Tara, where High Kings were crowned,
the Sacred Stone sadly lost in eternal slumber deep.

These places, their magic floods my soul,
washes me clean of the now.
Their stories surge through me, re-make me whole,
ancient voices tell of the how.

Ancestors sing and call me home.
I would go if I knew the way.
Under my feet, beneath the loam
stirs blood, beats heart of a by-gone day.

Head on over to Sue Vincent’s blog to take a look at the other entries, and if you fancy giving it a go yourself, here is what you have to do;

Use the image to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… by Wednesday 25th May and link back to Sue’s post, not this one, with a pingback. Please make sure that the pingback works and if not, copy and paste your link into the comments section of  Sue’s post.

Don’t forget to use the new and shiny #writephoto hashtag in your title:)

Due to the volume of entries, only the first few posts will feature on Sue’s blog during the week and all posts will be included in a round up on Thursday 26th May.

Feel free to use #writephoto logo or include the prompt photo in your post if you wish or you can replace it with one of your own to illustrate your work. Have fun!

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42 Comments on “The Glade #writephoto

  1. Pingback: Photo prompt round up– The Glade… #writephoto | Sue Vincent – Daily Echo

  2. Very nice poem and story to go with the photo prompt Ali. And quite honestly I don’t know how you fit everything in it must take you ages to do all your Irish mythology research you go girl!


  3. I love this part of your piece: “You can feel it if you touch them, feel the vibration in the air on your skin. Be still.” I can just envision you stopping by a moss-covered rock to fully allow the magic all around you to enter your soul while you embrace it. I think it is good advice for every day of life – take time out to “be still” – to listen to the silence and let our thoughts flow unencumbered.


  4. It spoke to you and you spoke beautifully to us. Your words are magic. I so love a rhyming prose, especially when a story unfolds. There is a part of my soul that belongs to ancient Ireland. It’s all my grandfather’s doing–the stories he told us–heaven only knows where he heard them.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think they were often told around the fire of an evening in our grandparents day, Sue. Thats probably where he heard them. You’re so lucky to have had them passed on to you. Reading them is great, but not quite the same. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: The Glade from Ali Isaac #writephoto | Sue Vincent – Daily Echo

  6. Wow, Ali these poems are stunning, moving, and beautiful. You have such vivid imagery. I could not only see but feel the land through your words. I know how you feel about it being difficult to catch up. I feel the same way. I’m barely doing it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Barely doing it is exactly it, Éilis. No choice but to soldier on. Well get there in the end. Thanks for the compliments, btw. Glad you enjoyed them. 😙

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Ali, your talent was on view at a young age. I loved both these contributions – I could see what you saw. Hang in there – I usually told people when they asked how I did it all, that I NEVER had all the balls in the air at one time, two at most. You just have to dance as fast as you can while juggling!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Haha! Thanks Noelle! It doesn’t get any easier though does it? Thing is, in only another 4 or 5 years my eldest will probably leave for university, and when my boys are gone, my workload will be halved. I’ll have the time I currently crave, but I’ll regret it, because my boys will have flown the nest. Sigh! Life is beautiful, but so tough.


      • That’s so true, but somehow your life will fill up again, and sooner or later, the kids will come back home. My daughter and son-in-law arrived here yesterday from LA to stay with us while they find a house. My son comes back from his three year deployment to Germany in December! They never really fly the nest…

        Liked by 1 person

  8. I hear you too Ali, it’s super hard to keep up at the moment. Nonetheless, your muse was clearly with you today. Beautiful prose and poetry as always

    Liked by 1 person

    • I know you are super busy too. It doesn’t seem to sap your creativity though, like it does mine. Thanks for the compliment. 😊


  9. I hear you Ali, I too struggle and?or juggle!! I’m always late like the white rabbit. Gorgeous image and I do love Sue’s blog though I don’t get over there enough.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Late like the white rabbit… love that! So am I! Glad I’m not the only one. Sues blog is lovely. Shes a master of the written word and the camera, I think. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

  10. That wonderful photo would conjurer up many individual thoughts, but to put them into beautiful words, like you did Ali, is really hard. Well done once again.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. A lovely piece of writing, Ali – the image obviously spoke to you. Interestingly, I’m just doing the prompt as well and I also got tattered flesh as part of my imagery – I wonder what it is about Sue’s images? They have layers unseen, I think.
    And I feel you – I don’t know how you manage to do all that you do – you’re quite amazing 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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