The Wren Boy I must have been having the time of my life the year I started singing, trying hard to remember the words, but high on applause and silver. In the lounge bar of a pub in Swinford I tried out a repertoire I’d culled from the Clancys and mixed to a Home Counties … Continue reading ‘The Wren Boy’ by David Cooke
Tag: Poems about Ireland
‘Destination: Port of New York, 23 December 1929’ by Maggie Sawkins
Even though your name is there on the SS Cameronia's passenger list: Regina M Keohane, scholar aged eight, of sound mind and body, you were the one sister left behind in Aughnacliffe, along with your Grandda's blue cow and your milk bottle doll. But if you had gone I would not have been born. I … Continue reading ‘Destination: Port of New York, 23 December 1929’ by Maggie Sawkins
‘My Mother’s Reserve’ by Fiona Larkin
My Mother's Reserve after W B Yeats An ash-banked spark, her Lissadell: a small domestic match would fire the turf, and catch her memorising. Rhymes compel. See her break off, to write a life in medical vocabulary, responsibilities undreamt of in Castlebar or Foxford. She weighs the babies, annotates new-birth visits, progress checks, dispenses care … Continue reading ‘My Mother’s Reserve’ by Fiona Larkin
‘Posted in stone, O’Connell Street’ by Beth McDonough
Most buildings improve as they lose their blueprint finish, weather off architect too-sharp plans. Some wear layered flaked paint, for shuttered quaint takes, while carved seats bottom out smooth. When an engraver’s cut blurs into brass, it surely gains from handled warmth, but this grey braves a Europe-wide boulevard, all pocked out, holed and whole … Continue reading ‘Posted in stone, O’Connell Street’ by Beth McDonough
‘Cork Schoolgirl Considers the GPO O’Connell Street, Dublin 2016’ By Victoria Kennefick
I am sixteen, standing outside the GPO in my school uniform, which isn’t ideal. My uniform is the colour of bull’s blood. In this year, I am sixteen, a pleasing symmetry because I love history, have I told you that? It is mine so I carry it in my rucksack. I love all the men … Continue reading ‘Cork Schoolgirl Considers the GPO O’Connell Street, Dublin 2016’ By Victoria Kennefick
‘Virgin of the Rocks’ by Mary Noonan
Go on, Ann Lovett, crawl into the grotto and join the Blessed Lady there, the one you prayed to at the railings when your mother held you by the hand. Water is streaming down your school tights and the pain is making it hard for you to move. Go on! Lie down and let your … Continue reading ‘Virgin of the Rocks’ by Mary Noonan
‘Silently, The Women Waited’ by Angela Carr
The clocks ticked down, the men debated the Proclamation and celebrated while, silently, the women waited a hundred years to be placated, a body, sovereign, emancipated - the clocks ticked on, the men debated - and by the roadside Virgin, consecrated, and on ferry crossings, expediated, silently the women waited in convent laundries, incarcerated, their … Continue reading ‘Silently, The Women Waited’ by Angela Carr
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