Author Archives: Bill Fitzsimons

Tonight, she weeps in sorrow for all her lost dead boys; all those who blindly follow and believe their leader’s lies. She’s the universal mother and she’s black or white or brown; but her sorrow knows no colour when she … Continue reading →

Young, fresh-faced and Swedish, she is the undisputed heavy-weight in the fight for the soul of this planet. A pint-sized activist, she began her giant-sized journey into the realm of green politics at the age of fifteen and has never … Continue reading →

Half-written on the sprawling page of Time, my epitaph’s a process underway. The pessimist would argue for decline and say that all is tainted with decay. Such people see the worst in all mankind; no chink of light, no joy—indeed, … Continue reading →

Although I try to write my love for you, the page, I fear, stays resolutely blank; no message from my muse is getting through, nor is it likely to, I must be frank. Yes, writer’s block has been with me … Continue reading →

In Ulster, once ruled by sword and might, the legacy of history burns less bright. Here, where bigotry long held sway and human hopes were mangled in the fray, a tiny spark of reason has ignited and kindled hope in … Continue reading →

For days the ocean has unleashed its ire, a frenzy born of elemental spite – winds have raged that will not cease or tire till all's consumed in endless, blackest night. The waves break fiercely on the rocks, and spray … Continue reading →

in memoriam Seamus Heaney I never met you, Seamus, And now I never will, because as another poet said, “In the forest of poetry the great oak has fallen.” Seamus, you lit the darkened corners of my mind with your … Continue reading →

At the dawn of time you were born, a spark flung from the cauldron of creation. You journeyed onwards through cosmic dark, child of chaos and imagination. On your billion year swing around the sun your orbit gradually decays as … Continue reading →

I’m passionless, devoid of all desire, an empty vessel in the cause of love. My libido has sunk into the mire of despond – I need a forceful shove or, at the very least, a helping hand. Oh, who can … Continue reading →

“Such is life.” Reputed to be the final words of the Australian outlaw, Ned Kelly, before he was hanged at Melbourne in 1880. A life, a death. What’s one more life (or death) in this hard world? Man is born … Continue reading →