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The Well-field

With a chipped enamel bucket my
Granny would send me up to the well-field.
“We’ll have that for the spuds,” she’d say.

And I would step down onto the worn
flinty stone, dip and wait the drag
of water to glop fill the bucket and lift.

I marvelled always at the clean sheen
of spilled spring water as I heaved
that bucket out of the silvered silence,

onto the breeze shimmered grassy ditch.
I would then bowl my hands, scoop
and gulp water so sweet, so cold tangy clean,

my heart heaved with simple delight.
And I received images then of the others
who had come to this magic harnessed place:

those past generations of Mayo farmers,
that pre-historic man who first stood here,
staked his claim, marked this place as holy,

and fathered me, generation down generation.
We are all ghosts now, spirits of the well-field,
overgrown and abandoned, sprung to life only

through a voice fermenting in memory.

I like this very much Jimmy

My favourite part -

onto the breeze shimmered grassy ditch.
I would then bowl my hands, scoop
and gulp water so sweet, so cold tangy clean,

What a wonderful and basic joy - I can taste the water right now myself

And I like the acknowledgment and recognition of the past - layers of time all rooted to the same spot.

Thanks for sharing this.

Do you like Seamus Heaney?

A
x

Thanks alsiony...
yes I love Heaney... in fact you probably see the influences...
I have to consciously NOT be Heaneyesque.... a weakness in my poetry...

Jimmy

Oh no! Please don't take it in a negative way - I think this poem stands up very well on it's own!
Though I enjoy Heaney too -I asked purely because of the type of subject matter (and I also noted that your location is Ireland )

Keep posting, I would love to read more

Best Wishes

A
x

I think have almost been to that place, some place, Jimmy
very refreshing

Thanks, Mat,
It is probably a universal experience... it is so important for the Self to have a connection with a specific place/location.
The self needs a location from which to reach out and Be...
Unfortunately we sometimes do not allow others to have the same sentiment... We attack them for being from a place other than our own.... hence conflict with other national/religious/ethnic groups

Jimmy

Unfortunately we sometimes do not allow others to have the same sentiment... We attack them for being from a place other than our own.... hence conflict with other national/religious/ethnic groups

Jimmy I agree with you here. It is often underlying fear (or sometimes downright obvious fear) of something new or different that drives such conflicts. I kind of agree with what you first said - well in one sense I agree with you very strongly - but can it not be that the most important 'location' that a person should feel at home - is within themselves? If folks were truly happy with themselves (which is not necessarily the easiest to achieve) -I am sure there would be far fewer problems overall.

A
x

Alsiony...

true but I believe that that Self becomes a unique self in the context of his/her location/environment.
The poem is Heaneyesque in the sense that it celebrates a central motif in his poetry: landscape forms the soul...

Don't get me wrong- I'm not trying to dispute Heaney's major themes, I was just referring to another aspect of life in general- that I find equally as important

Good luck with the writing, I will check in when you post more
A
x

Hello Jimmy

You have written another very beautiful poem!

One phrase captured for me ancient memories that pervaded my entire life from the brief periods that I spent in Eniscrone as a child, in the fifties:

onto the breeze shimmered grassy ditch.

Any similar visual experiences during my life triggered this ancient memory and sent waves of vague hints of those very old stored sights. When I began to spend more time again in Ireland a few years ago I directly experienced this

onto the breeze shimmered grassy ditch.

visually many times.

Another point I have is that your poem reminded me of one of Leonard Cohen's songs "The Faith". I may be wrong but I suspect he wrote it with the Israel/Palestinian issue in mind:

THE FAITH

The sea so deep and blind
The sun, the wild regret
The club, the wheel, the mind
O love aren't you tired yet?
The club, the wheel, the mind
O love aren't you tired yet?

The blood the soil the faith
These words you can't forget
Your vow, your holy place,
O love aren't you tired yet?
The blood the soil the faith
O love aren't you tired yet?

A cross on every hill
A star, a minaret
So many graves to fill
O love aren't you tired yet?
So many graves to fill
O love aren't you tired yet?

The sea son deep and blind
Where still the sun must set
And time itself unwind
O love aren't you tired yet
And time itself unwind
O love aren't you tired yet?

For me the song is about peoples' attachment to "place" and the ensuing suffering

So, yes, it is nice to feel rooted somehow geographically, and this somehow gives some people a (temporary) sense of identity and comfort. It is unfortunately a fine line that can be crossed leading into a psychotic hell-realm-like drama.

Sean (in Galway for a visit)

If you send me a PM with your tel. no. I will call and say hello.

Thank you for this wonderful poem Jimmy.
Although I long to physically return home to Ireland, in my mind I am already there when I read these beautiful lines.
Juan x

Thanks Juan,

It'll still be here when you get back!!!

Jimmy