The Glens

When as a child I marvelled at the Glens 

with its plunging gorges and waterfalls 

its balsalt towers and sweeping valleys 

Where myths and legends stalk the land 

Now Winters Coming’ is rumoured in the sky’s 

And dragons might be seen from Fair Head high.

It’s coastal path of winding bends

Through stone clad arches leading on

To century old harbour towns that lie ahead

And boulders falling into the danger zone 

While looking out across the sea brings calming

For vessels to arrive at a mythical Kings Landing. 

In the distance Slemish mountain stands with its steeping pastures 

While Torr Head conquers all around with its magnificent views 

Of a changing sea and islands near

Is there any other beauty so near such as this 

Where the cliffs hang over to seal a sacred kiss  

The ghost of Isabella is to be seen and heard

In her refuge through the castle walls she roams 

Calling for her child, crying for her love 

In her agony all around the creaking castle floors

searching, groaning, Knock knock, knock, heard on the doors.

Outside the bay sings along to the ripple of the waves 

Creating a silver reflection that is blinding from afar

Im in awe of this majestic emerald range

Feeling time has stood still 

while I watch the sea chop and change

Captivated by its tales of ancient civil wars and clans 

From the dark hedges of the Kings Road the story continues on

It’s beauty untouched and the whispers of laughter in the air

Breathing in its majesty all the way to the Ould Lammas Fair.

(The Glens of Antrim, location of Game of Thrones)