Friday, June 10, 2011

Idyllic Altamont

Old stone pillars flank the entrance
draped in ivy, brambles and weeds.
An avenue of copper beech
curves to an abandoned house,
where a peacock’s cry
resounds from purple walled gardens
at idyllic Altamont.

Weeping Aspens quiver
dappling sunlit walls.
A faded facade lies buried
under a myriad of trees,
vines meander the windows
and moss creeps the steps.

From the doorway,
a thick path spreads through lawns,
lined by pyramids of clipped box
sweeping beneath arches of Yew.
Trellised roses perfume the view
down to a lily clotted lake.

Swans with their young
forge a path through yellow lilies
dipping long necks into inky waters,
drifting warm sunshine.
Bird song fills the lake
lacing the trees with lilting melodies.

A woodland of Rhododendron,
gnarled branches of purplea and pinks
bracelet the lake,
leading down to a dank bog
swamped with giant rhubarb
and grassy reeds swishing the breeze.

A diverging path
twists to a gushing waterfall,
crashing into the river Slaney.
Dense dark Ash spiral
to a bright grassy clearing,
to intoxicating views
of the Blackstairs mountains.

A feast of surprises,
at each twist and turn
with a seat to sit and ponder.
A place of peace and beauty,
freedom to roam with nature
Oh How I long
to return to Altamont.


  1. I long to visit here, Maire..Beautiful words, for a beautiful place in Ireland...
    A feast indeed XX

  2. Yes, a beautiful place, I will return there for sure. I sent the poem to the tourist board in Carlow and they were so happy to receive it. They might put the poem on their brochure for Altamont. How nice that would be. Maire x