Holy Trinity Church at Dunamase

Here’s a photographer with his sleeves rolled up. Muddy shoes too. A kind of photojounalism we should embrace, and learn from.

Ed Mooney Photography

Holy Trinity (1)

I have visited the Rock of Dunamase on a number of occasions over the last few years, each time has always been a pleasure. So on my recent trip around County Laois, I decided to have a look around its much over looked neighbour, The Holy Trinity Church. No it is not the usual ruin that I would normally explore, in fact it is not even a ruin, but considering its close proximity to The Rock I wanted to have a look around. The small granite church and graveyard which are both still in use today, was built back in 1845 after the church at nearby Dysart was destroyed by fire. It belongs to the Church of Ireland and was never consecrated until 1849, supposedly  due to the famine. I always wondered, was there an older religious site here? Considering  the historical significance of its neighbour this would be quite…

View original post 185 more words


Classic Footage of Famous Writers – Mark Twain and Leo Tolstoy

Some think these videos disturbing. I find a closed mind disturbing.

Interesting Literature

Did you know Mark Twain and Count Leo Tolstoy were captured on film? Although they’re associated with the nineteenth century, both writers lived until 1910 and would be filmed in their final years when the technology was still in its infancy. (Mark Twain, who had been born two weeks after Halley’s Comet appeared in 1835, died the day after it next made its return in 1910 – something he had predicted would happen.)

As a Friday treat, we thought we’d share these two videos of footage of these classic nineteenth-century novelists.

First, Mark Twain, in 1909, filmed by none other than Thomas Edison. The footage was filmed at Stormfield, Mark Twain’s estate in Connecticut.

Second, Leo Tolstoy, author of War and Peace, in 1908 when he was an old man of 80.

Disclaimer: We share these videos here on a share-alike basis, since they have been made freely available by…

View original post 3 more words

Long Long Ago

This is a story of long ago.

The one where the man

stepped out of the wilderness

for the first time.


He looked around and thought,

hmm, this looks pretty good.


Then night fell.

He could not see the sky.

Could not find the stars.

This made him sad.


He went down to the river,

he could not drink the water.

He would not wash in the water.

He did not want to smell like that river.


He walked through the canyons

of glass and steel.

The air sickened his spirit.

He found no good foods growing.

This made him even sadder.


He came upon a young man.

He said; “Sit down with me son,

and I’ll tell you a story”.


I’ll tell you a story

of Long Long Ago.


When rivers ran clean

and the sky was all aglow.

When mountains and forests

were sacred places to go.


He turned to the young man

and said; “Now you tell me a story”.

The young man, still lost in wonder

had no words.

Just stared at the holes in his shoes.


I awoke into a dream.

It was the night the moon

fell from the sky.


The Moon


A strange pastel orange

rolled as a great wheel

across the garden royal.


Rolled, eclipsing the castle facade.

Having crushed the great paper

red roses bearing witness.

A red stained icon of her passing.

Leaned her great dark

against the too brown battlements

retiring her mystery

beneath the twinkling colors

of uniform stars.


The River


Tired of rushing unmoving,

stopped her pure blue manic

flowing to some mysterious

unknown place.

Living only in a child’s mind.


Romeo Screaming


Lent mirth to the disruption of all things.

Hysterical peals through a scattered land.

Chaos loosened feet, colors flying

through piccolo voices resounding from everywhere.


Ah, but Juliette.  Fair Juliette


With a single turn,

in the grace of angels,

stretched out her sequined arm.


Ah, Juliette.  Fair Juliette


With a single cry,

muting the flutes of Avalon.


Out sang the heavenly choir

accompanying the falling moon


By her single voice,

I slept out of my dream.


Daddy, Daddy, did you see me?


The house lights went on.

Spirit Fog

Spirit Fog rolled by my back window last night.

I moved from the North.

I asked Spirit Fog to reveal itself.

Spirit Fog would not.

I said, “But, you must reveal yourself”!

Spirit Fog calmly considered this.

Spirit Fog said, “I don’t have to do anything”.

It seemed Spirit Fog grew stronger, as it receded

into the moonlit, silver tipped, landscape.

Spirit Voice moved to the North.

Spirit Voice said, “Spirit Fog needed that resolve”.


Good Old Daze

Here I sit with pen

(oops) make that keyboard

in hand.

Trying to write

what I scarce understand.

My mind (gosh, make that computer)

A jungle of half formed plans.

I spew (heavens, make that send)

into the land.

Thoughts that have no form

like sand.

Sand?  Cool

We can make a mother board


You bet!

Give me a cat with a bird to kill.

I’ll cook his hide and pluck a quill.

I’ll bleed for ink and if the sheep are still.

I’ll get a skin to write my will.

Oh for the Good Old Daze.

My Guitar

Do I study the guitar, or does the guitar study me?  I am the active principle, the guitar is the passive principle.

One best be passive when studying. My guitar is tasked to find ways of singing past my fumbling fingers.  It teaches me to forget my gross actions, closely listen to her beautiful voices.  She leads me to her next song.

Who’s greater, my guitar or her ‘master’?  Who among us could sing with a death grip on our throat?  A fist beating our chest?  Fingers poking our tendons?

Who am I to study such a thing?  Can I lead the guitar to where I’ve never been?

Sweet singer, study me well.  Teach me.  Teach me to sing and dance with you.

i know i don’t know


Today I used a calculator for the first time.
I discovered I am only 24,000 dreams into my life.
So, don’t ask me, I know nothing.

I told someone I lived, they said “no” they lived.
All of these dreams I only imagined?
So, don’t ask me, I know nothing.

I walked home today, my home said “no, I walked to you”.
How do you argue with a talking home?
Don’t ask me, I know nothing.

Ah, but the cat said “hello”.
I know.