The Lost Roads of South Meath!
This was one of the poems I recorded for the SiarScéal Festival 2020 (Frank Fahy) but I had to delete the title and credits in order to get an upload to the blog. Too much data or something. Hope you enjoy. Will get back tomorrow with the text of the poem. I recorded a number of videos for The Meath Writers' Circle back about 2012 but this is the first since then. We were going to bring out a recording of some of the members back then but events as they say...events.
The Lost Roads of South Meath
Boreens
They called 'em
Back roads.
Turning in on themselves
Merging
Between hedgerows
And red tin roofs.
The roads less
Travelled.
And the odd tourist
Taking the shortcut
Advised to go back
By a man making hurlies.
To a sign that said
Kill something or other
Pointing out in the fields
Of buttercups and dandelions
Blowing in the wind
And not a bog
For miles.
The afternoons spent
Nursing the Pint
Or a crossword
In grocery bars.
Stills battered out the back
And an insurance man
Selling clothes pegs,
The company
Of a collie dog.
And there was any
God's amount
Of time.
Frank Murphy
