Mist And Legend Comments

When I was an English major in college, I studied the Irish Renaissance writers - the Celtic Twilight. And I still remember fondly reading those poems of such lush language by the young Yeats, AE, Stephens, Joyce. I have been re-reading Joyce's poems in CHAMBER MUSIC just for the musical qualities. Your poem conveyed the physical environment that inspired those writers. Although I haven't been to Ireland, I have a kind of Ireland in my mind - as do many Irish Americans. But it's not the Celtic Twilight I read. It's the later Yeats of the Byzantium poems, the Crazy Jane poems, the amazing plays like Purgatory. And Seamus Heany is one of my favorites. I thoroughly-enjoyed taking the walk with you by means of this poem. The title alone captures a quality of place which is magical, and pace late Yeats, we still need that magic of time and place.

Wow a poetic walk down ancient more mystical n mythical pasts. Imaginative poem! Swell rhymin. Hapy new yr.

A great little story Noreen. I love the line 'Who's dread spiked finger blacked the spud' Great imagery.

Archetypal images, myths and ghost stories influence every culture that they keep haunting human mind, making it difficult to distinguish between iiusion and reality! Enjoyed your ride through the country alley with your soul possessed by the spirits! !

'Then ancient mist cleared from my mind. My soul returned to rightful place. No more to walk through mists of time. a fleeting glance was mine to take' A nice, poetic end to a captivating narration, with an appropriate title and note. Well done!

Myth, magic, mystery, the ways of glancing at lifes hard to explain side... yet, no less real. Superb writing.

gee, i JUST read the poet note. i was going to ask about the tongs reference! thanks for the explanation. thank goodness we now have wireless fairy-alert systems in upscale american nurseries. but tongs might be cheaper, and my daughter is expecting...................... very nicely done. i DID especially enjoy: One spoke of babies disappeared, from cots unguarded by a tongs, whose mothers hearts when rent in two With guilt fueled grief their lives did end i'm glad you made it out of the mist, but it sounds like another thing the irish could pitch as a tourist atttraction. thanks for sharing. ;) bri

Thinking about memories in the past. Seems so real but only a dream. Jolted back to the present. Good.

a good write enjoyed the read

a good write enjoyed the read

Beautiful write..fire tongs across a baby cot, protecting a child.Yes, hunger foe of all. Beautiful writes..Enjoyed reading it.

Excellent rendering and you have recaptured an image very clear madam.

A really fantastic poem, really enjoyed it. It reminds me of time slips, where you can be walking down a road then without warning your back in the past on the same road. A fantastic write.