Here’s a short bio from Fran Reddy explaining why she writes poetry.
I am a married Mom of 6 living in Southern Ontario, Canada. I took my first trip to Ireland in June of 2013 after winning a Facebook competition sponsored by the Waterford Gathering and I simply lost my heart and soul to Ireland while I was there! After reluctantly returning home, the urge to express my feelings was overwhelming and I would wake up at night with the rhymes going through my mind and one day I just decided to sit down and write them out. Hence this first poem was born!
My main reason for sending you the poem I wrote was to help others understand how much Ireland can touch your soul while you’re there! It’s a mystical, often spiritual feeling, that how I felt and I want to pass that on, the beauty and culture and history.
Below is a poem Fran wrote on returning home.
Ireland’s Spell
Your beauty has beguiled it seems
Of mountainside patchwork fields I dream
Moody sky with clouds dark-clad
Give way to sun that warms hearts glad
Blooming pathways, hidden charm
The windswept way to hillside farm
Painted sheep dot sweeping hill
Listen to the swallows trill
Cattle graze amongst the green
Stop in place, the sight serene
Green that gently touches sea
Broken castles, history
In sleepy summer solstice long
I listened to the siren song
As magically she called from me
All vestige of my sanity
Every corner turned, my duty
Headlong into yet more beauty
Endless sky to endless sea
I lost myself and willingly
Misty rain on slopes of grey
I reveled in its gentle way
Feeling not the windy chills
My eyes, through tears, caressed the hills
Locals seeming unaware
Accustomed to the grandeur there
Of hills majestic, rivers clear
The oceans wave, the heaven near
Taking, as it was, for granted
The glorious heaven God had planted
Pints are shared, friends in making
Songs and smiles, cares forsaking
Telling tales of ages passed
Reminisce, the spell is cast
Oh this place, so boldly swept
the soul from me, my heart it leapt
Golden valley before me sleeping
Stirring soul within me, weeping
My life shall never feel the same
Since Erin set my heart aflame
And stole my sense, with all good haste
Did wrest my soul and laid it waste
To long for Ireland evermore
Her sea and sky, sweet love and lore.
She’ll whisper me her lilting score
Until I tread her fields once more
Poem copyright: Fran Reddy
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