The heft and reach of him through mountain bog and field earthed bark to leaf-lit canopy true north. (i.m. Seamus Heaney.) (previously published in Shrewsbury Stanza's Anthology 2015) Carol Caffrey is an Irish writer and actor who lives in Shropshire with her husband and two grown-up children. A former teacher and full-time mother, her work … Continue reading ‘Dair Ghaelach (Irish Oak)’ by Carol Caffrey
Tag: Poetry
‘Aisling’ by Adam Wyeth
Beautiful girl with a broken harp who plays on the side of the street through wind and rain, her open case catching coins that flicker as leaves on a lake. Her plaintive notes which float like pleas then flee into a whooshing diaspora of rush- hour traffic as she plinks and plucks more … Continue reading ‘Aisling’ by Adam Wyeth
‘Comhrá na Tríonóide’ (Trinity Colloquy) by David Butler
Comhrá na Tríonóide Is mé ar seachrán san coláiste ar maidin do bhaineas ana-thaitneamh as mo dhíchuimhne nuair a thugas faoi deara go rabhas ag caint liom féin fad is ag falróid a bhí mé. Trí cheist le freagairt dá bhrí sin: Cé bhí ag caint? Cé bhí ag éisteacht? agus in ainm … Continue reading ‘Comhrá na Tríonóide’ (Trinity Colloquy) by David Butler
‘Skinny Dipping’ by Jean O’Brien
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 … Continue reading ‘Skinny Dipping’ by Jean O’Brien
‘The English Papers’ by Mike Gallagher
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 … Continue reading ‘The English Papers’ by Mike Gallagher
‘Dublin Puzzle’ by Aoife Lyall
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 … Continue reading ‘Dublin Puzzle’ by Aoife Lyall
‘Finn MacCool offers his thumb’ by Laura McKee
to my salmon lips to see if I’m ready and when I drip when I spit it burns tells him all he needs to know and he wants to suck the knowing out of me Author's note: The Salmon of Knowledge is one of many stories surrounding the legend of Finn MacCool (Fionn mac Cumhaill) … Continue reading ‘Finn MacCool offers his thumb’ by Laura McKee
‘Armagh Tellings’ by Geraldine Snape
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 … Continue reading ‘Armagh Tellings’ by Geraldine Snape
‘Door to door, Belfast 1969’ by Finola Scott
Imagine a curtained room table set with supper, the radio hums. A knock at the door. Shadows through glass. Staccato bullet-raps on wood. Outside, shoulders square set balaclavas snarl, a fist punches out a rattling can. A barrel winks, trigger oiled Collecting for the lads. Coins shake, paper unfolds. Purse empty, chest pulses. Boots to … Continue reading ‘Door to door, Belfast 1969’ by Finola Scott
‘The Wren Boy’ by David Cooke
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
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