Capturing the world with Photography, Painting and Drawing

Posts tagged “monday

Monday Poetry : Wildflowers by – Deb Jones

Wildflowers
By Deb Jones

Wildflowers
Every year I get a gallon
Of wildflowers seeds
Just imagine!

February is when I toss them
Into the wind
In an ever widening circle

Irish wild flowers
Sheeps bit
Slate quarry’s
County Kilkenny

The moisture laden breezes
carry them over 10 acres.

And the field I leave the most seeds in
is actually a pasture.

Violets, yellows, whites and blues
They come in such beautiful coloured hues

A field of wildflowers grow
And I let them grow unknown
Until they bloom no more

A pleasure to look at
A treat to sit in the middle of

Sometimes we need color in our lives
For no other reason
Than “Why not?”


Monday Poetry : The Comfort of the Hills – Will H. Ogilvie

HEART! If you’ve a sorrow
Take it to the hills!
Lay it where the sunshine
Cups of colour spills!
Hide it in the shadow
Of the folding fern;
Bathe it in the coolness
Of the brown hill burn;
Give it to the west wind
Blowing where it wills;
Heart! If you’ve a sorrow
Take it to the hills!

Heart! If you’ve a sorrow
Take it to the hills,
Where pity crowns the silence
And love the loneness fills!
Bury it in bracken
Waving green and high;
O’er it let the heather’s
Peaceful purple lie!
Trust it to the healing
Heaven itself distils;
Heart! If you’ve a sorrow
Take it to the hills!


Monday 1 hour drawing – The Fisherman , Ink on paper sketch ……

One hour sketch
Fisher man on the rocks
Ink on paper
county Galway
Nigel Borrington 2018


Monday Evening Poetry : A Night in the Field, Jay Parini, 1948

Suntsets over Country Kilkenny
Nigel Borrington 2018

A Night in the Field
Jay Parini, 1948

I didn’t mean to stay so late
or lie there in the grass
all summer afternoon and thoughtless
as the kite of sun caught in the tree-limbs
and the crimson field began to burn,
then tilt way.
I hung on
handily as night lit up the sky’s black skull
and star-flakes fell as if forever—
fat white petals of a far-off flower
like manna on the plains.


A ripe moon lifted in the east,
its eye so focused,
knowing what I knew but had forgotten
of the only death I’ll ever really need
to keep me going.

Did I sleep to wake or wake to sleep?

I slipped in seams through many layers,
soil and subsoil, rooting
in the loamy depths of my creation,
where at last I almost felt at home.

But rose at dawn in rosy light,
beginning in the dew-sop long-haired grass,
having been taken, tossed,
having gone down, a blackened tooth
in sugary old gums, that ground


Monday Poetry : The Ocean Shipwreck Lord Byron (1788–1824)

The Ocean Shipwreck
Lord Byron (1788–1824)

(From Don Juan)

’T WAS twilight, for the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one who hates us, so the night was shown,
And grimly darkled o’er their faces pale,
And hopeless eyes, which o’er the deep alone
Gazed dim and desolate; twelve days had Fear
Been their familiar, and now Death was here.
* * * * *

At half past eight o’clock, booms, hencoops, spars,
And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose,
That still could keep afloat the struggling tars,
For yet they strove, although of no great use:
There was no light in heaven but a few stars;
The boats put off o’ercrowded with their crews;
She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port,
And, going down head-foremost,—sunk, in short.

Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell!
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave;
Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;
And the sea yawned around her like a hell,
And down she sucked with her the whirling wave,
Like one who grapples with his enemy,
And strives to strangle him before he die.

And first one universal shriek there rushed,
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed,
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gushed,
Accompanied with a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek—the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.


5 Images for the Week – Monday , Downey Emerald Dragon fly

Downey Emerald
Dragonfly
Blanchfieldsland
County Kilkenny
Nigel Borrington


Irish Landscape Images : The Hell Fire Club, Mount Pelier Hill

The Hell Fire Club
Mount Pelier Hill
County Dublin, Ireland
Irish Landscape Images
Nigel Borrington 2018

The Hell Fire Club on Mount Pelier Hill
William Conolly’s Hunting Lodge

The building now known as the Hell Fire Club was built around 1725 as a hunting lodge by William Conolly, the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. It was named Mount Pelier by Conolly but over the years has also been known as “The Haunted House”, “The Shooting Lodge”, “The Kennel”, and “Conolly’s Folly”. It was one of several exclusive establishments using the name Hellfire Club that existed in Britain and Ireland in the 18th century.

While the building has a rough appearance today, the architecture is of a Palladian design. The upper floor consists of a hall and two reception rooms. On the eastern side, there was a third, timber-floored, level where the sleeping quarters were located. On the ground floor is a kitchen, servants’ quarters and stairs to the upper floors. The entrance, which is on the upper floor, was reached by a long flight of stairs which is now missing. At each side of the building is a room with a lean-to roof which may have been used to stable horses. A stone mounting block to assist people onto their horses can be seen on the eastern side. To the front there was a semi-circular courtyard, enclosed by a low stone wall and entered by a gate.

View of Dublin port
From Mount Pelier Hill
Irish Landscape Images
Nigel Borrington 2018

The house faces to the north, looking over Dublin and the plains of Meath and Kildare, including Conolly’s primary residence at Castletown House in Celbridge. The grounds around the lodge consisted of a 1,000-acre (4.0 km2; 1.6 sq mi) deer park. The identity of the architect is unknown: the author Michael Fewer has suggested it may have been Edward Lovett Pearce (1699–1733) who was employed by Conolly to carry out works at Castletown in 1724.

There was a prehistoric burial site at the summit of Mount Pelier Hill and stones from it were used in the construction of the lodge. A nearby standing stone was also used for the lintel over the fireplace. Shortly after its completion, a great storm blew the original slate roof off. Local superstition held that this was the work of the Devil, an act of revenge for disturbing the ancient cairn. Conolly had the roof replaced with an arched stone roof constructed in a similar fashion to that of a bridge. This roof has remained intact to the present day, even though the building has been abandoned for over two centuries and despite the roof being set alight with tar barrels during the visit of Queen Victoria to Ireland in 1849. There is little evidence that the lodge was put to much use. Conolly himself died in 1729.


Monday Poetry : Light By – Saugat Upadhyay

ballykeefe-kilkenny-landscape-photography-nigel-borrington

light

Light is a way,
Light is a zone,
Light is a past,
Which shows the future.
Light is a mountain,
Light is a hurdle,
Light is a debt,
Which leads to the quest.
Light is a beginning,
Light is a end,
Light is a truth,
Which gives us a fruit.
Light is a flower,
Light is a fragrance,
Light is a life,
Which gives hope to survive.


Monday Morning Nature Photography and a Poetry , “The Spiders web” by E.B. White

Wildlife and Nature images Spider in her web Nigel Borrington

Wildlife and Nature images
Spider in her web
Nigel Borrington

This Morning while walking through our local woods, I came across a Gorse bush and noticed that its was decorated with spiders webs. Each web was covered in early morning dew, so I started to take a few photographs, while doing so I noticed that the spider who had most likely spent most of the night creating these amazing structures was still at work.

It was a great moment! just to stop and watch her as she continued to work on finishing just another one of so many of her webs, I managed to captures some close up images , some of which I share here – 🙂 🙂

“The Spiders web” by E.B. White

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider’s web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.
E.B. White

Spiders web Gallery

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a-spider-on-slievenamon-nigel-borrington-4

a-spider-on-slievenamon-nigel-borrington-3

a-spider-on-slievenamon-nigel-borrington-2

Wildlife and Nature images Spider in her web Nigel Borrington

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Monday Poetry – The Eagle By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The Eagle

The Eagle  Nigel Borrington

The Eagle
Nigel Borrington

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.