‘Ive not managed to post anything this week, caught up in the pressure of the penultimate week of the semester, and the penultimate essay, a study on the form, language and style of modernist poem, The Waste Land… Read More
Last week, I listened to one of my lecturers read aloud a poem in Old Irish, and I learned a few things: Old Irish is a language which is meant to be listened to. Listening to someone read… Read More
I wrote this poem for Samhain last year, and decided to re-post it, because it fits with the season so well, and also with the atmosphere of last week’s poem, The Princess on the Hill. They hide the… Read More
It being the season that it is, and the big event drawing ever nearer, my mind has been wandering over the tragic legend of Tlachtga, and so this circular poem is inspired by her, and dedicated to her.
They are dragged up the hill like beads on a rosary, their guide droning, words buzzing in one ear, dripping from the other like honey, to make room for the three other sites they will visit today. They want… Read More
Sun has slipped beyond the rim, and on the hill, fiery petals unfurl, a towering blossom of flame, summer’s herald, an omen of peace and plenty. * Around the Beal-fire maidens sway, yellow wrapped with starry strings of gorse,… Read More
For the robin, no perch here.
Across the field
mournful cattle low.
Too cold, the dark end of the year.
Soft hues of Eire
earth-brown, grass-green, sky-blue,
overcome by stark monochrome.
In the UK and Ireland, today is National Poetry Day. There is a full program of events lined up for the days surrounding this popular annual event in Ireland. Just use the tags #thinkofapoem and #nationalpoetryday to tag… Read More
Cold crow, black crow sits in the tree. I’m not afraid of him, he’s not afraid of me. * He flaps and he watches with dark beady eye. He knows things about me as I stumble by. *… Read More