Monday, March 20

a Poem for Thursday....Preston Patrick in March

Preston Patrick in March

Preston Patrick in March.

 If you don’t hurt crows
They won’t hurt you
My father said

And I believed him.

Chorus :-
While water drips
In a blue plastic drum
Water runs from
A pipe in the yard
Water brown bubbling
And smelling strong.

In the ring of trees
Black branched
Against a pearly sky
Crows weave nests.


Ghost trees hover high
On early green hills
And mist and low cloud
Merge in distant perspectives.


There sits a flatbed trailer
Unmoved by their caws
And rusty supports form
As iron oxidises.


The inspiration for the first stanza came out of a poem by Vicki Feaver in her  book,
 “The Handless Maiden”…Cape Poetry

“If you don’t hurt wasps
They won’t hurt you
My father told me.

But I didn’t believe him,”

Sunday, March 19

A Poem for Thursday....Armagh Tellings

It was such a great pleasure to be part of International Women's Day this year as I spent it in Northern Ireland...and joined some other writers at Bangor Library to read our writings.

The day was organised by Jane Talbot @  and the readings at Bangor were lead by Liz Weir.....@.

Then being encouraged by several friends to "get my work out there"...I offered a couple of poems for Josephine Corcoran's blogpost...."And other Poems"

What joy to get a lovely message from her that she had chosen this one about the old family farm in Armagh. 
Thankyou to all who allowed me to share some words.

‘Armagh Tellings’ by Geraldine Snape

Armagh Tellings
I remember hearing about
Newtownhamilton and granny.
I was told about how the
hens scuttled around where
Summer’s swifts filled the farmyard.
Told about the road to market taken
By the broad carthorse that
turned the wheel that
churned the butter..
That was the pride of Armagh….and
Dad wearing a top hat and
Him perched proudly on the cart.
And I remember
Drumlins everywhere you looked.
And the roads flying by..Killyfaddy,
Tassagh, and Dundrum.
And there’s the wee post office…neat and sparse
With Will Moore and his little mum.
William James from..the Braeside..
That’s running along the border..
By Annvale road…and the lake.
And the famous Darkley Mill.
And I remember the stories of the
Farm and how they said that
Sarah Makem who worked at the mill
Sometimes sang in the yard
And there’s the C of I at
Where I once met a Mr. Lowry
whose mum knew dad apparently …..
There on Annvale road and
found that dad had been there before!!..
Albert Nesbit…Megagherty…..Watsons.
There’s two piers guarding a lane to a farm
To 26 Corkley….and there’s a possibility
That it was Joe’s farm.
Out comes the present owner
As rough as a badger…
He owns a tractor from ’61
Bought it when he moved there…Said it worked still.
Said he never needed a wake up call.
Said he rose in the morning with the first horn…
From..Darkley Mill.

This poem was read aloud in Bangor Library for International Women’s Day on March 8th 2017.

Geraldine Snape was born in Belfast and now lives in Warrington. She has been in Belfast recently as part of the Women Aloud NI readings in libraries, book shops and town centres. She is a member of Geraldine Green’s group that meets in Kirby Lonsdale every month and is a member of Bold Street Writers group in Warrington. Instagram geraldinesnape