The Web Poetry Corner - James Bredin - Baltard Castle
Beltard Castle stood on the cliffs beyond Cusheen,
We fished there every day when I was seventeen,
The castle stood like time - sort of symbolic,
From a time in Irish history -- miserable and melancholic.
Built by the English to watch for Napoleon and his men,
‘Cause the French might claim the Irish instead of them,
No crosses and no graveyard build at this site,
No heroes with stories, no battles and no fights.
My father and I fished from the rocks down below,
The castle looked down from its very high plateau,
The sound and the fury of the waves that crashed,
And the shrieking of birds and spume as it lashed.
We moved here and there -- it depended on the tide,
Catch Pollock, gut them and set them aside,
And the birds came from on high to fight about the guts,
‘Spose to them they appeared like prime cold cuts.
The lady at the Tourist Bureau looked kinda puzzled,
As if I was a dog that maybe should be muzzled,
"Baltard Castle," she shook her head, "Not around here."
"I remember it quite well," I said. "It was very near."
"How could the place up and completely disappear?
It was part of my memory with my father to revere."
"Oh they tore it down in the sixties," the older lady said,
As if it was garbage and this subject now was dead.
Was the place I loved so politically incorrect?
That someone decided that the place should be wrecked?
What was the logic behind such a decision?
‘Cause the English built it or historical revision?