‘Songs of the the Sea’ by Eleanor Hooker

Songs of the Sea At Kilmore town ancient carols are sung, legend says the sea will drown their town. Casting stones into the sea is wrong, storm-crested waves drag silent sail down. Legend says the sea will drown their town, a silver coin beneath the mast brings luck. Storm crested waves drag silent sail down, church bells sound when sinking ships are struck, A silver … Continue reading ‘Songs of the the Sea’ by Eleanor Hooker

‘Skinny Dipping’ by Jean O’Brien

Skinny Dipping I’m Irish, we keep our clothes on most of the time. We perform contorted dances on beaches in Cork, or Donegal; undressing under not-yet-wet-towels. Worried that any gap might expose us, lay some body-part bare. It was the Immaculate Conception that did it, if Mary could conceive a child without removing her knickers, then by God us could undress and swim without baring … Continue reading ‘Skinny Dipping’ by Jean O’Brien

‘The English Papers’ by Mike Gallagher

The English Papers On Achill the post came twice each week – Tuesday brought Queenshead fivers, postmarked Ormskirk, Tamworth, Kilburn – short letters from villages of men transplanted en masse to alien trenches. Thursday brought brownpaper rolls, neatly wrapped; Anthony Jack flung them from his bike, cursed their weight, their wickedness, their Englishness with equal ferocities. The Achill mother unfurled the Sunday Post, plucked The … Continue reading ‘The English Papers’ by Mike Gallagher

‘Dublin Puzzle’ by Aoife Lyall

Dublin Puzzle The porous bag sliced through. Sediment gathered in the corners. We upend the pieces into the lid and bottom. We shift through them, panning for edges, corners. We kneel on the green felt kings use to play chess and peer at each piece; inscrutable, divine, mysterious. The gradations, lines, shadings, out of place – the edges connect, the real work begins. Some pieces … Continue reading ‘Dublin Puzzle’ by Aoife Lyall

‘Armagh Tellings’ by Geraldine Snape

Armagh Tellings I remember hearing about Newtownhamilton and granny. I was told about how the hens scuttled around where Summer’s swifts filled the farmyard. Told about the road to market taken By the broad carthorse that turned the wheel that churned the butter.. That was the pride of Armagh….and Dad wearing a top hat and Him perched proudly on the cart. And I remember Drumlins … Continue reading ‘Armagh Tellings’ by Geraldine Snape