Category: 25 Pins in a packet women creators
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‘Nymphs’ by Katharine Tynan.
Nymphs Where are ye now, O beautiful girls of the mountain, Oreads all ? Nothing at all stirs here save the drip of the fountain; Answer our call Only the heart-glad thrush, in the vale of Thrushes; Stirs in the brake But the dew-bright ear of the hare in his couch of rushes Listening, awake. […]
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‘Night Poem’ By Margaret Atwood.
There is nothing to be afraid of, it is only the wind changing to the east, it is only your father the thunder your mother the rain In this country of water with its beige moon damp as a mushroom, its drowned stumps and long birds that swim, where the moss grows on all sides […]
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A Saturday Woman Writer, Marianne Moore.
Poetry “I too , dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle. Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers that there is in it afterall, a place for the genuine.” The original Poetry had 29 lines which Marianne Moore excised, retaining only the first three lines. Those three […]
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The Night Garden I. Meditations by Éilis ní Dhuibhne, images by Alice Maher.
Alice Maher, artist extraordinaire exhibited at the RHA last year in Dublin, the show was entitled, ‘The Night Garden‘ and it was an interesting evolution and development of her themes. I reviewed it elsewhere. A small book of meditations by Éilis Ní Dhuibhne and drawings by Maher were a part of that show. Eternal Lines to Time Mairfidh mo ainm go brách […]
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Viva La Vida! by Frida Kahlo.
There are many images by the artist Frida Kahlo.They are full of light. She is all over the net, and on you-tube, there is a small film called The Real Frida – and I suppose her work is known to many people. Poethead is about women’s art , poetry and image; and I found I had never […]
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“I Am in Need of Music” by Elizabeth Bishop
I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling fingertips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear , and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head, And over quivering […]
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‘Form’ by Eva Gore-Booth
The buried statue through the marble gleams, Praying for freedom an unwilling guest, Yet flooding with the light of her strange dreams The hard stone folded round her uncarved breast. Founded in granite, wrapped in serpentine, Light of all life and heart of every storm, Doth the uncarven image, the Divine Deep in the […]
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