Niamh Clune

Environment, poetry, comment, children's books,

In Memory Of My Mother


I want to reach across the sky
to realms beyond the blue
to where you are imagined still
and I remember you

your face was soft, your lilting tongue
a brogue of Burren’s air
a flute that danced upon the wind
of Erin’s County Clare.

You danced a Hornpipe, kicked your heels
with smile and not a care
the rocking ankle, turn of calf
of girl from County Clare

wild and exiled, mother mine
you beat the flaggy ground
with rhythm of the rebel coast
battering the sound.

I shall miss the bluest eyes
and long for when you were
the orchid in a field of stones,
the girl from County Clare.

Copyright Niamh Clune 2013

About Dr Niamh

When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down. One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.” Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!” I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I? I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.” Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray. With love from Dr. Niamh, Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books.

16 comments on “In Memory Of My Mother

  1. so beautiful niamh 🙂


  2. patriciasands
    May 12, 2013

    That brought tears to my eyes, Niamh. What a loving remembrance. Happy Mother’s Day to you.


  3. the secret keeper
    May 12, 2013

    You’re words are so generous and sweet for your mother. I can imagine her in your mind dancing the hornpipe. So beautiful and enjoying herself as you enjoyed her. Her blue eyes looking on you with love inside her. Your poem is quite a moving gift for her. I’d like to believe the wind will carry the sound of the words to her for you and for that special moment she will be able to remember just for you. And with that memory send you a smile and a glint of light will reflect off her bright blue eyes as she would, just for you. Love, Jennifer @>-;–


  4. Patricia Tilton
    May 12, 2013

    Niamh, such a hearfelt and moving tribute to your mother. Made me tear it was so beautiful. Happy Mother’s Day to you!
    Sorry I haven’t been visiting, but I have been on vacation for nearly two weeks.


  5. Uncle Tree
    May 12, 2013

    Hope you had the grandest of days!
    ‘Tis a wonderful tribute. 🙂


  6. Jamie Dedes
    May 13, 2013

    A loving, cheerful, and sweet homage.


    May 13, 2013

    Beautiful Niamh.


    • ontheplumtree
      May 13, 2013

      Butterflies of Time …many thanks. Always lovely to hear from you.


  8. Juliette
    May 13, 2013

    Beautiful. Thank you for sharing this.


  9. Roisin Penzer
    May 13, 2013

    absolutely beautiful, you captured her wildness there alright. She should have been a free spirit all her life, and she was so beautiful. I loved her so


  10. thiskidreviewsbooks
    May 14, 2013

    This is wonderful! A great tribute!


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This entry was posted on May 12, 2013 by in Special Projects and tagged , , , , , , , .
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