A Poem and a Painting for Ireland

Before we left Ireland, I knew I wanted to create a painting for our trip, but the painting didn’t speak to me right away.  It was always there, though, a whisper not to be forgotten.  A couple of weeks ago, I was thinking about the lovely Irish music that welcomed us to the Cliffs of Mohor.  

 

A lady was singing in that beautiful lilt at the start of our walk to the cliffs.  She had red hair and wore a white and green dress.  We listened for a while, enchanted.  Wanting to place something in the hat on the ground, but having no change, I gave what I had in my purse.  I knew we wouldn’t be buying much, as our days in this second home was coming to an end, so why not share the euros.  It was a 10 dollar bill.  I handed it to the singer, so it wouldn’t blow away in the wind.  She broke out into a smile and as her song ended, she thanked me much.  My husband, on the other hand, was livid for the amount that I gave her.  But I knew it meant a lot to her and what she gave to us, as I continued walking the cliffs and hearing the music, well, I consider that memory to be priceless.

 

This was the memory, of her singing and the cliffs, that whispered not to forget.  I did a pencil drawing on a canvas.  Then stopped for about a week.  The pencil drawing was pretty and it begged for color.  

Instead I wrote.  I drafted a poem and edited and added and wondered if my love of writing poetry had come back after so many years.  The painting patiently waited.  The poem flew together merging the cliffs, the lady singing, the limestones we walked on, the ruins we saw, the wool lessons.. it inked itself all while I glanced over at my sketch.

Oh, I wanted to paint it.  It was in my mind's eye, what I knew I wanted to complete.  

 

I was afraid, you see.  Of not being happy with the painting once done.  I thought, “What if I mess this up and then how will that represent the wonderful times in Ireland?”  I had to shrug to myself and say, “Then paint over it.”  

It started with ink... to get rid of the white canvas, so I blocked in the colors.  That settled for a few days.  With Irish music playing from my iphone through to my hearing aides, it started to come to life.  Finding some Irish quotes, I added those in.  Mixed media lets me play as I will.  Acrylic is in layers, paint a little, rest a little, paint some more, then to be patient as the layer needs to dry.  It’s a game of give and take.

 

I smile when I see the painting, so I guess I am happy with it.  It brings me back.  Here’s the poem and painting:

 

Emerald Presence 

By: Aleta O’Brien

2024

 

Jewel of royalty lines the ground

Beautiful and stunning this ever color, 40 seeds of endless spring

Against the rocky cliffs of Moher, 

Jagged rocks towering high, resemble giants carving into the sky

Then sleeping in the cool mist, the bard spins the salty tale

round and round

Of the lady who is a forest in the ocean, mysterious and tranquil

She breaths in the alluring blend of tumultuous waves

and unwavering rocks, fiery hair twists in the crashing winds motion

Her whispered words guide the lighthouse midst the chaos 

Viridescent, her dress caresses the ancient

Ruins, found on rolling hills and on limestone rocks, 

Mother Nature’s playground

Where seasons test the human spirit and history melodies

A web throughout the here and there, ephemeral and resilient, 

The lass paints to embrace the transience for in it lies beauty,

So fleeting, she hums and keeps to sound

The waltz of land and sea and sky, the lullaby seeps into the 

beat, tears chime “I feel you from my presence,” 

the varnish of love and lost lives recitals

To be felt instead of told, bygone words dwindle in drops

Nimble fingers needlework the weaves and waves and green field

Stitching the wool of patience, the spinning of years,

Thistle unbound between her gentle footfalls and sighs,

The wilderness and untamed new dawn, the untapped hues

Of her, crowned in the passage of emerald time