At the end of August, 17 creative souls gathered with us for our retreat on Inismor – Writing on the Wild Edges of the World. We had a wonderful group with participants from all over the U.S., Canada, Singapore, and Australia. I am delighted to share some of their poems over these next few weeks. Pour a cup of tea, imagine yourself on a windswept limestone island in the Atlantic, and savor for a while.
These haiku were written by Mike Philley:
ancient beehive hut—
grayed stones etched with gold
prayers of lichen
winged peregrine
soaring above the sea cliff
the wind its muse
at the holy well—
a gnarled rag tree, steadfast
altar of blessings
wild blackberries
ripen on fences of stone
teaching patience
gravestones of ancestors—
names lost, weathered away
all facing the sea
the labyrinth twists
through a field of rabbit holes
ever opening
the currach’s thin ribs—
canvassed, coated black with tar
buoy an oarsman’s faith
pillars of sharp stone
guard the walls of Dun Aengus—
now only silence
abandoned abbey—
shadows fleeting in sunlight
like dancing monks
two women talking
in Irish, their Gaelic tongue—
one stirring the soup
Michael Philley, retired from government service, now lives with his wife, Sue, in Boise, Idaho. Several of his short stories appear in Writers in the Attic, a literary anthology. To spur his imagination, he also reads and writes haiku poetry. On a recent pilgrimage to Inismor with Abbey of the Arts, he wrote haiku expressing the island’s ancient rhythms and still abundant traditions of Celtic spirituality.
