Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Back in the Day, when Small Towns were Pure

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What is Club 81 ? Ba bloody news’s whaw tis. We doan wan dah kine ting rown here I’m tellen ya dah................. What goes on t...
Thursday, August 25, 2011

Civic Responsibility

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I wonder if there's a greater need than we acknowledge for civic responsibility to be inculcated in our children. I remember my grand ...
Monday, August 22, 2011

Rag Trees and Holy Wells

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St Kieran's Holy Well, Kilcar, Co Donegal Holy wells and rag trees, the exotic places of the Irish countryside, have lon...
Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Moon and Me

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I can completely understand why the moon is associated with madness. Watching it sail through the countryside of clouds, it becomes mesm...
Saturday, August 13, 2011

Scarecrows.

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We are two scarecrows: rags and string; what the rain softens the wind picks clean. We are two scarecrows: sticks and straw; crow...
Monday, August 8, 2011

Poetic Imagery in Art

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The photographs pinned up in Francis Bacon’s studio re-emerged in some form in his paintings, The grotesque mouth in the still fro...
Sunday, August 7, 2011

Laughter Yoga in Dublin

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"What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul." proverb Quick mention of a free Laughter Yoga session at Rathmine...

Caught, Tangled in Old Years.

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Caught; tangled in old years young man; the brambles have made you delicately eccentric. Your ears are closed but to the berries, eyes fixed...
Thursday, August 4, 2011

Can't Sing

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Can’t sing but good with languages and accents: I don’t believe it, I think it comes down to teaching methods. And there is a singing style ...
Sunday, July 31, 2011

Patrick Kavanagh

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A snippet of Patrick Kavanagh talking from 1962, one of my favourite poets and one that has had great influence on my writing: As always,a s...

Wasted Treasures

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The lighthouse at St John’s Point in Donegal Bay in one photograph mimics a wave on the sea, in another a seagull. It’s such a pity that lig...
Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Alone in the City

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I’m a great fan of Edward Hopper’s art: those images of solitary people in city venues are haunting. There is so much emptiness, sparseness...
Thursday, July 21, 2011

She Leaves.

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She leaves a country of mountain tops, pencil points in nothing and crosses on current arrows to where the sun shines on a space. Angels loo...
Sunday, July 17, 2011

Revisiting Lough Ree

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There is a recollection in Brian Friel’s “Philadelphia, Here I Come” that rings a loud bell in my head: Gar Private recounts a May afternoon...
Friday, July 15, 2011

Southword

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Wonderful to have access to new and high quality Irish writing for free, and if you haven’t found Southword Journal Online yet, that’s what ...
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