ORNA ROSS

Historical Fiction

Poetry

Go Creative!

Where are You? A New Poem

  Where are you? The splendour of creation awaits. Beauty veiled, she dallies, playing with the wings of birds passing, swaying her hips with the wind, wanting to dance, to bring you music from planets     and clouds. Call her by right name, hear her...

The Ancestors Await: A New Poem

Come out into the garden, someone says. It’s almost seven and the table is laid. Yes come. Evening wind is cooling the trees, and we are here, whispering over the rim. See, your mother staring out through the eyes of your son. Your niece hands you a peach with her...

A Poem For Brigid’s Day

My mother's name is Brigid, though everyone knows her as Ida, named as almost every Irish person used to be, after a saint. St Brigid, one of the patron saints of Ireland, whose feast day is today, the old Irish imbolc the first day of spring. Much to my own surprise...