The words of a poet

Character is not the lines etched along one’s forehead, it is the testimony your life provides. It is the days, like pages lived out before the masses, that create a life poem or a story.

Years ago, a seanachtai would tell stories around the hearth, or near the fire, weaving stories revealing the characters of men and women and heroes of old. As the miles on this body pass another maintenance check, I am pondering the role the storyteller plays in our confused society. I am pondering the mission, not the story. As a contemporary reflection of the seanachtai, I feel the responsibility of providing turf to light the fires within each heart that hears. I provide turf meant to kindle, not consume, because the words of a poet should provide a kindling for life, not material for destruction…


About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from,,, and are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
This entry was posted in Camping, catholicism, Christianity, Culture, Language, Life, Pentecostalism, Poetry, Relationships and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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