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Welcome, We hope you enjoy the landscape and nature images in this site, Nigel Is a Photographer living in County Kilkenny, Ireland.

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Irish Landscape(Kilkenny) with a Poem : Independent Heart , by Jodie Moore

Irish Landscape KIlkenny_01

Independent Heart

Soft words you spoken
From the heart that is broken
I know deep inside
You have a level of independence
With a mystery of suspense
You are recovering
Waiting for someone

Irish Landscape KIlkenny_02

To catch on to the discovering
Of the real you
With a heart so true
Giving of your best
Expecting nothing less
While hurt is making amends
Leaning on loving friends
Accounted for in time you spend
With words you write
Not giving into a broken hearts flight
Staying strong
Carrying others like me along

by Jodie Moore

Monday Poetry : You Haven’t Seen The Last Of Us

Orion 2

You Haven’t Seen The Last Of Us

By : Lady Ravenwolf

Do as you will and harm none, ever mind the rule of three
Is one of the most important rules of the wiccan reed
Lets take a look back in history
Ways of the old lost within time
All but forgotten, shrouded in mystery

They were a peaceful kind
Yet thousands met such an untimely demise
The ultimate betrayal of mankind
She’s a witch, they’d point and scream
Those were the burning times

You mortals forever ignorant
She is one of many
With blood line ever strong
Her daughters are alive and well
Apparently you missed a few

The witch seen before you
Is a new kind of breed
Dressed completely in black
Morning the death of sisters past
I will forget my own path

Midwinters day 2013

Dancing between the worlds
Choosing to walk the in the gray
My magic is powerful
Though I seek not to harm
I will protect what is me and mine

This will be a finial warning
It is most unwise to cross me
With the flick of my hand
A curse will be placed
With a piercing cackle heard

The Firewood Poem, By : Celia Congreve

firewood 01

The Firewood Poem

Beechwood fires are bright and clear
If the logs are kept a year,
Chestnut’s only good they say,
If for logs ’tis laid away.
Make a fire of Elder tree,
Death within your house will be;
But ash new or ash old,
Is fit for a queen with crown of gold

Birch and fir logs burn too fast
Blaze up bright and do not last,
it is by the Irish said
Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread.
Elm wood burns like churchyard mold,
E’en the very flames are cold
But ash green or ash brown
Is fit for a queen with golden crown

firewood 02

Poplar gives a bitter smoke,
Fills your eyes and makes you choke,
Apple wood will scent your room
Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom
Oaken logs, if dry and old
keep away the winter’s cold
But ash wet or ash dry
a king shall warm his slippers by.

Irish mountains in Black and white , 6 images

Irish Mountains Photography Nigel Borrington

Irish Mountain Photography
Nigel Borrington

Because Ireland is a small country (32,599 square miles), fitting into the State of Indiana, you are never that far from anywhere or any type of Landscape (Coast, rivers and Mountains).

I find it almost impossible to choose my favorite type of landscape but I do love getting up high above the fields and towns. There is something captivating about looking out over the views below and clearing your mind.

I also feel that Black and white photography is just perfect for these places, capturing only the tones of the landscape below and the big open sky’s above, filled with the ever changing moments that the Irish weather can bring.

The Old Mountains

by Edwin Curran

The old mountains are tall, silent men
Standing with folded arms, looking over the world,
Lonesome and lofty in their manner.

They have seen empires come and go,
Civilizations rise and fall,
Stars break on their breasts.

They are full of history like great books,
And are merely the stone monuments that the kindly Gods
Built for the human race, to mark its passing tomorrow.

Irish Mountains, A Gallery

The Old Mountains

Waterford Landscape Photography

Irish Mountains the sunsets

Irish Mountains the shed

Irish Mountains Slievenamon landscape

Find a place in the mountains

Monday Poetry , Wild Woodbine By : Joan McBreen

Wild Woodbine_1

Wild Woodbine

Joan McBreen

Wild woodbine was beyond my reach
in the thick hedges round Lough Gill.
The heavy scent filled the house for days
when my father brought it in
and it stayed fresh far longer
then meadowsweet.

Wild Woodbine_2

Because I loved the delicate
pink and white wild rose
he picked it too, cursing the thorns, muttering
“it dies too soon,
you’d be better leaving it alone”.

Yet once, when my mother
swept its petals from the floor
I saw him rescue one
and place it carefully
in the small wallet
where he kept her photograph.

Wild Woodbine_3Wild Woodbine

Before the mountain, Poem By :Myochi Roko & Sherry Chayat, 1990

Tipperary Landscape photography slievenamon 2

Before the mountain, by the grace of nature
I was allowed to realize “Oh!I am only a child!”
tendered by spruce and birds.

I saw without my usual defenses
and endless thinking.

Tipperary Landscape photography slievenamon 3

I know anything or everything
coming between me and creation.

– Myochi Roko Sherry Chayat, 1990

Slievenamon, County Tipperary

Monday Poetry : Advice from a Tree, By : Ilan Shamir

Trees at Coolagh kilkenny 1

Advice from a Tree

By Ilan Shamir

Dear Friend,
Stand Tall and Proud
Sink your roots deeply into the Earth
Reflect the light of a greater source
Think long term
Go out on a limb
Remember your place among all living beings
Embrace with joy the changing seasons
For each yields its own abundance
The Energy and Birth of Spring
The Growth and Contentment of Summer
The Wisdom to let go of leaves in the Fall
The Rest and Quiet Renewal of Winter

Trees at Coolagh kilkenny 2

Feel the wind and the sun
And delight in their presence
Look up at the moon that shines down upon you
And the mystery of the stars at night.
Seek nourishment from the good things in life
Simple pleasures
Earth, fresh air, light
Be content with your natural beauty
Drink plenty of water
Let your limbs sway and dance in the breezes
Be flexible
Remember your roots
Enjoy the view!

Ode to the Coast , Poem By : John Cooper Clarke

St Annes Pier 100

Ode to the Coast

By : John Cooper Clarke

A big fat sky and a thousand shrieks

The tide arrives and the timber creaks

A world away from the working week

Ou est la vie nautique?

That’s where the sea comes in…

Dishevelled shells and shovelled sands,

Ode to the Coast 036

Architecture all unplanned

A spade n bucket wonderland

A golden space, a Frisbee and

The kids and dogs can run and run

And not run in to anyone

Way out! Real gone!

That’s where the sea comes in

Impervious to human speech, idle time and tidal reach

Some memories you can’t impeach

A nice cuppa splosh and a round of toast

A cursory glance at the morning post

A pointless walk along the coast

That’s what floats my boat the most

That’s where the sea comes in….

That’s where the sea comes in

Ode to the Coast 034

Endless Streams and Mountains

Endless Streams and Mountains Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

Endless Streams and Mountains
Irish Landscape Photography : Nigel Borrington

….

Endless Streams and Mountains

Clearing the mind and sliding in
to that created space,
a web of waters steaming over rocks,
air misty but not raining,
seeing this land from a boat on a lake
or a broad slow river,
coasting by.

Endless Streams and Mountains 1

The path comes down along a lowland stream
slips behind boulders and leafy hardwoods,
reappears in a pine grove,

no farms around, just tidy cottages and shelters,
gateways, rest stops, roofed but unwalled work space,
—a warm damp climate;

a trail of climbing stairsteps forks upstream.
Big ranges lurk behind these rugged little outcrops—
these spits of low ground rocky uplifts
layered pinnacles aslant,
flurries of brushy cliffs receding,
far back and high above, vague peaks.

A man hunched over, sitting on a log
another stands above him, lifts a staff,
a third, with a roll of mats or a lute, looks on;
a bit offshore two people in a boat.

Endless Streams and Mountains 3

The trail goes far inland,
somewhere back around a bay,
lost in distant foothill slopes
& back again
at a village on the beach, and someone’s fishing.

Rider and walker cross a bridge
above a frothy braided torrent
that descends from a flurry of roofs like flowers
temples tucked between cliffs,
a side trail goes there;
.
Secret Cove Padstow bay

a jumble of cliffs above,
ridge tops edged with bushes,
valley fog below a hazy canyon.

A man with a shoulder load leans into the grade.
Another horse and a hiker,
the trail goes up along cascading streambed
no bridge in sight—
comes back through chinquapin or
liquidambars; another group of travelers.

Evening in the bay 1

Trail’s end at the edge of an inlet
below a heavy set of dark rock hills.
Two moored boats with basket roofing,
a boatman in the bow looks
lost in thought.

Hills beyond rivers, willows in a swamp,
a gentle valley reaching far inland.

The watching boat has floated off the page.

Evening in the bay 3

Wild Orchids – Three Poems for Friday…..

Orchid_03

Patricia Drake
Feb 26, 2013

Orchids

She had tried to grow them
For years she had watched others
How they had theirs
Bloom
But nothing happened in her
Windowsill

Now they sat there
Beautiful and vibrant
For all to admire
Through her window
Forever perfect
Sewn
Not grown

Early_Marsh-Orchid_01

EP Mason
Jan 2, 2014

The organs of orchids

I hope that when I die
the insides of me
are placed into
the insides of the needy
so that they can bloom like flowers

And the rest of me
is buried with the Earth
so the prettiest flowers can grow from my bones
and bloom in my soul
knowing I gave my life to nature
and all her children

Orchid_02

Marie-Chantal

Ireland’s Wild Orchids

Through the rain stained glass,
With a sickly purple hue,
I can see early marsh orchid,
And it makes me think of you.

The gardener’s son
Is looking at it too,
His sickly grey suit
Makes me think of you.

I was not born a bog child,
I was only passing through,
The Irish Lady’s Tresses
Made me think of you.

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