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Burren harbour | by tina negus
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Burren harbour

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The Burren.


Limestone, blue-black in shade,

clouded heights

shrouded with rain

distilled from ocean depths.

White stone, bright in the sun’s gleam.

Grey stone, grained across the hills

groyned by water, layered by time.


Flowers spring from the living rocks,

bedstraw and cranesbill

and soft cream roses in the grykes.

The wind blows, salt-fresh,

marking the tree’s shape,

for ever.


A bare place, peopled by history:

ancient graves,

and relics of the time of persecution.

Little fields with stonewalls,

stone fields built by toil

and seaweed from the shore.



from the wind and waves

and from the singing stones.


from pipes and drum,

from villages and towns,

from Lisdoonvarna,

from Ballyvaughan

and Kilfenora.


Stone and sky and sea,

swirling hills and waves.

In the harbour,

grey water in the evening light,

still water in the summer calm,

the rain passes,

then the sun returns, and the black boat

sails out into the rainbow.


(Published in Wherever, by Cinnamon Press, 2007)


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Taken on February 10, 2008