Walter's Page

“I will thank you to remember Miss Scarlet while this piece may not be technically Irish in tonality and content,
it is nevertheless penned from my Irish heart. Moreover, my propensity to write and talk is only outweighed by
my capacity to drink. And, Frankly ‘My Dear’. . . I don’t give a d@!!. Slàinte!”

This Picture That Is You . . .
(A poem by Walter Magill © Copyright 2003)

I pictured you in portrait
On the canvas of my mind.
I coloured you in passion
Painting lips of ruby wine.
Your… Continue

CLICK to listen . . .
Wee Davy.mp3

‘Wee Davy’

This is poignant piece written by the late James Young (a Belfast actor/comedian) who in the trying times of N.I.’s ongoing religious strife gave us pause to look at ourselves. Although the topic deals with religious intolerance it is not without its universal appeal for intolerance knows no boundaries… Continue

Oh! Hear My Prayer St. Patrick. (A poem by Walter Magill © Copyright 1992)

Oh! Hear my prayer St. Patrick
From this your Erin’s Isle
Your people all are fighting
Their hearts are filled with vile
Their blood is on your green fields
Your towns and cities fair
Your children all are crying
Their future’s in despair.

Oh! Hear My Prayer St. Patrick
To you I humbly plead
Grant peace to all your people
To each their God and creed
To each bestow your blessing
And give your shamrock green
And touch the… Continue

Thirty-six years ago to the day - the hour was noon - one Spring day in Belfast. History recants the story. In all conflicts the innocent suffer. Bombs do not discriminate – they kill and maim with equal resolution regardless of class, creed, age, gender or colour. None are immune. To a lasting peace for all.


ONE SPRING DAY IN BELFAST - Donegall Street, March 20, 1972
(A poem by Walter Magill © Copyright 2008)


I was there that day
When day was turned to night.
When acrid plumes of the bomber… Continue

The Dancer with the White Face
(An Ode to a friend)
Copyright ©Walter Magill 2003

I saw a dancer in the night
A body tanned a face of white.
I watched her sway in rhythmic geste
Her arms in motion – heaving breast.
I touched the moment of her dance
Her legs transfixed in sensual stance.
I gathered in her smells and sounds
Her body moves both full and round.
And all too soon the dance did end
But I had found a ‘dancing’ friend.

Horseman Stop!
(A poem by Walter Magill © Copyright 1973)

This child of Ben Bulben
Beneath Sligo lies
In Drumcliff churchyard
In common demise
No statue, no altar
No mark of the great
Just a few chosen words
On a gray, granite slate
And a name to remember
For eternity
Of a man who was born
For posterity
This child of Ben Bulben
Beneath Sligo lies.