Allen Ama, Ireland, New York discussed on Travel with Stephanie Abrams


The early two thousand probably years after nine eleven I went out and traded with a friend of mine. A no, no. Logo. Film about my journey hasn't has that. New York along the way, we catching a lot of people like the island bike Mars. So out of magical home, Paul filming Paul about the city rebirth. You gotta have hope opposites devastation happen too. So. Two thousand nine them. We were nominated extraordinary tiny though, films nominated for three Emmys, and I ended up winning for best writing for. You are. To gold after all the struggle. Again. You are at an extraordinarily talented person. You and words have a special relationship and in any event. Listen people. I've never had anybody other than maybe, you know, somebody that loves me in the family child or adult type write me a poem. And so this poem was really commissioned without my realizing it was being commissioned because I said to Allen I would love you to go in and sculpt out of the poems. You've written that I don't know. And I have gone on your Facebook page and taken out some phrases. And and passages that are descriptive of Ireland as a destination. And what makes it special and magical little did? I know when I said that to Allen that he undertook that as a new commission to write a poem that would answer those questions I put to him. So Allen poem have a name. It hasn't got an an yes. Please name sent me. The Email an Email with the name, and it starts out with the mention of mountains. And I I'm not familiar with the north mountains didn't stick in my mind. But those are the mountains that you see that border near the when you drive around the baron. Was. Now, I would like you to recite the poem. So here we go because the moment untitled by Allen ama- cook. Growl for north mountains, all stones sacred output hills, reaching beyond this guys. I walk on more in the fields of gentian purple green, yellow, rainbows up heated nature on the God of the sun. I sit in the great valleys of this land carry mountains beckoning toward the power of Atlantic. Green ocean, a myriad of histories and each software. I rest upon the old wells sacred drop of water caressed capstone so precious on my lips like time. From the islands of our close upon the edge of the world the old so Poland's the soft I- donkeys deferred deep rocks. The mighty cliffs which hold a swell of time. And I sleep upon the soft Grassi ferns swallows return by Celtic soul. Whether tiny wings beat constant like Ireland, dense greenheart showing us the miracle of life. Taste the broken soul of air of the soil of in my mouth, the smell of ancient gods roam the coast from Atlanta to the giant's causeway, the goddess guides her hand upon your weary brow sweet traveler to bring you home. See the Dahlman is old sacred alone allied energy shields, the heart walk the ancient dogs of male miles around south for the fuel the ancient burning of tribal heart. I walked up old beggars and dreamers. My home or beautiful and see Ben Bolden Sligo. Slob mountain bright green an astonishing sight that draws the sold amazement holding secrets from a million is an swimming rivers, silver gold, salmon, Oprah down listening scale, like old poem secret fish tails, magic guide shows through streams onto the sacred. Bells of Ireland old and the of cool park nine Nickerson animal hiding in the oakwoods softly, majestic kings Brown for shadows in the night, and the shy hares and foxes red tails disappearing into the darkness. I walk them on the horses of Connemara.

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