Paddy Mhéime Ó Súilleabháin is from Loch Con Aortha, Conamara. He lives there with his wife Úna. He has been writing predominantly in the Irish language for some years now, both short stories and poetry. He has come first in a number of competitions for poetry; Oireachtas na Gaeilge Cheanada, féile Thír na nÓg, as well as a competition run by Raidió na Gaeltachta. Paddy has work published in Irish language magazines; Comhar, Feasta, Pléaráca and Iorras Aithneach, as well as the Galway Advertiser.
The leafy boughs of a weeping elm
Shades the entrance
To this unique gem.
The best the city has of such.
Without allegiance to all or none
I stand in awe
To feast my eyes
Where tribes, travellers and crusaders,
Through time and now
and once with beasts of burden
Bound by a tranquil churchyard
That within its bosom
Rests a host
Of those and more,
In truly restful state that all aspire.
And for the traveller,
A wish to acquire
Such peaceful setting of his own.
Resting now the masons chisel
After bequeathing to all
The Connemara Hills
Cruel winter has cast its shadow
Once more, on the barren
Reddish grey stony landscape
That forms the Connemara Hills.
Through hills and hollows the westerlies
Showed their fierce strength, and then
Abated as if they’ve never been.
A hare sits motionless by an outcrop,
As if mesmerised
By the stillness of the day.
While blackhead sheep stroll once more,
To forage the sparsely covered
Boggy barren slopes.
Sturdy ponies neigh in the distance
As if calling for sustenance,
Or just to make a statement.
While ravens glide the up-draughts
Scanning at their leisure.
All is that it is, and should remain.
I passed that way once
In the footsteps of others,
And such it has remained
Through time and now, and on, and on.