Chris Murray

Poetry Ireland Online.

June 18th, 2009

Poetry Ireland

This post comprises a small acknowledgement of the work of Poetry Ireland both online and in the real world , as well a space to collate some of the useful links which might interest those who amongst us who do poetics.

In recent times I had written a small tribute to David Marcus who had died and whilst mining for information to add to the scant bit that I knew both as a reader and writer I noted that he was instrumental in setting up the precursor to Poetry Ireland which has developed imho into an incredible literary resource , thus I thought it would be really nice to discuss the site online in Poethead which has a strong connection to the site through the Poetry Ireland Forum,the Tangled Web and even a review page on Agnes Nemes Nagy.

There follows at the end of this short paragraph links in bold to the site , which I have decided is the best way to present anything, those who may be interested in exploring further can get a taster of how it is all put together; and thus divine what joy it gives to those amongst us who like the idea of both utilising the site and contributing therein.

The Tangled Web Resource Page

Poetry Ireland Publications

Book Reviews Page

Poetry Ireland Forum

Poetry Ireland Mainpage

My Nagy
‘Life’, by EBB

June 10th, 2009

Each creature holds an insular point in
space;
Yet what man stirs a finger, breathes
a sound,
But all the multitudinous beings round
In all the countless worlds, with time
and place
For their conditions, down to the central base,
Thrill, haply , in vibration and rebound;
Life answering life across the vast
profound,
In full antiphony, by a common grace?
I think this sudden joyaunce which
illumes
A child’s mouth sleeping, unaware may
run
From some new soul newly loosened from
earth’s tombs.
I think this passionate sigh, which
half-begun
I stifle back may reach and stir the
plumes
Of God’s calm angel standing in the sun.

From Elizabeth Barret Browning‘s Sonnets
‘Coleridge’ by Medbh Mc Guckian.

June 9th, 2009

(for Michael Longley)

In a dream he fled the house
At the Y of three streets
To where a roof of bloom lay hidden
In the affectation of the night,
As only the future can be. Very tightly,
Like a seam, she nursed the gradients
Of his poetry in her head;
She got used to its movements like
A glass bell being struck
With a padded hammer.
It was her own fogs and fragrances
That crawled into verse, the
Impression of cold braids finding
Radiant escape, as if each stanza
Were a lamp that burned between
Their beds, or they were writing
The poems in a place of birth together.
Quietened by drought, his breathing
Just became audible where a little
Silk-mill emptied impetuously into it
Some word that grew with him as a child’s
Arm or leg. If she stood up (easy,
Easy) it was the warmth that finally
leaves the golden pippin for the
Cider, or the sunshine of fallen trees.

from: On Ballycastle Beach, by Medbh Mc Guckian, Published the Gallery Press 1995
Protected: The Island is Silence,

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Password:
Tony Harrison : The Mysteries

June 1st, 2009
The annual Cúirt festival of Literature occurred recently, indeed it has been mentioned before in a series of pieces relating to Current Irish Arts Council Policy which has mitigated against two of three writers organisations in this country.

Anyway, I used attend the Cúirt Festival of Literature up in Galway, it was for me an annual treat and in many ways life-changing because it’s always good to hear the poet, or indeed to see him/her. I met Tony Harrison at one particular reading and it was round the time that he had published his Mysteries.

I lost one copy, then replaced it, re-found and loaned one to a friend in Barcelona, indeed we read bits of it on a particularly stormy night which I will never forget (but, I digress……..)

The Mysteries were instigated by the Guilds’ system’ to bring fundamental truths to communities, thus butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers became the passionists of religious communication, before such jolly ideas as a created Apocrypha or Imprimatur descended into the too rational brains of those who sometime detested the very words that make bibles. (Gosh!!! two digressions)

“A man is like a rusty wheel
On a rusty cart.
He sings his song as he rattles along
And then he falls apart.

And we sing allelujah
At the turning of the year
And we work all day in the old-fashioned way
Till the shining star appears.

A man is like a bramble briar
Covers himself with thorns
He laughs like a clown when his fortunes are down
and his clothes are ragged and torn.”

I won’t go on at the moment, I was rather hoping to include some Mary Magdalena who is a physical/spiritual lover in this bookie.

Thus I will end with a recommendation for readers of serious poetic works : Tony Harrison: the Shadow of Hiroshima and other Film Poems, Faber.
- Related link : Desperate Funding Cuts
Risible Blasphemic Measures , 2009

May 20th, 2009
Cruci-fiction, the fictive crucifixion of the artist’s word by a Minister for Government , cYp on Politics.ie

These risible and wholly unnecessary measures have made me break my apolitical rule on Poethead, thus causing agitation for a whole 24 hours… Stories and opinions are at the links provided above. # July 2010, this whole stupid posturing has led to the need for a Constitutional Referendum on the subject of Blasphemy. I am of the opinion that we need a writer the calibre of Swift to show up these appalling Modest Proposals that are grounded solely in the vanity of senior ministers, who in fiscal crisis tend toward the ephemeral.

The law mentioned in the quotes above has been amended still retaining the criminalisation aspects ,
- Ahern’s Amendment.
‘No Earthly Estate’, Patrick Kavanagh

May 17th, 2009

no earthly estate.

I am recommending, today a book called No Earthly Estate: God and Patrick Kavanagh, an Anthology, ed Tom Stack, Columba Press 2004.

Excerpted , ‘No Earthly Estate , Kavanagh, Colum and Strong’ (December 2010) .

‘The wordsmiths mentioned above , Kavanagh, Strong, and Colum are but a tiny example of the triumph of art and literature against what amounts to a repressive and regressive approach to the Arts. They are not contemporary poets but provide for the new writer the amazing root-system which forms Irish Literature in all its wonderousness. Would only that those who claim to lead us politically were aware of their cultural heritage , story-telling and indeed the violence of words that make up this rich history of multifaceted voice and poetry !’

The Devil , by Patrick Kavanagh.

‘ I met the devil too,
and the adjectives by which I would describe him are these:
Solemn,
Boring,
Conservative.
He was a man the world would appoint to a Board,
He would be on the list of invitees for a bishop’s garden-party,
He would look like an artist.
He was the fellow who wrote in newspapers about music,
Got into a rage when someone laughed;
He was serious about unserious things;
You had to be careful about his inferiority complex
For he was conscious of being uncreative.”

No Earthly Estate

The Columba Press.
‘Irish’ by Paul Celan

May 15th, 2009

Irish

Grant me the right of way
over the cornstair to your sleep,
right of way
over the path of sleep,
the right to cut turf
on the shelf of the heart,
come morning.

by Paul Celan

Irish is by Paul Celan from Fathomsuns and Benighted, trans Ian Fairley. Carcanet Books, 2001.
A Saturday Woman Poet , Medbh Mc Guckian.

May 9th, 2009

To a Cuckoo at Coolanlough

For Peter Fallon

“Driving the perfect length of Ireland,
Like a worn fold in a newspaper,
All my deep, country feelings
Wished I could have hypnotized myself
into going back for the cherry-market
at Borris-in-Ossory.

But all I could think of was the fountain
Where Shelly wrote his ‘Ode to the west Wind’
Nesting like a train-fever or combing jacket
Over the town.

A child will only sleep so long, and I wonder
If he is an artist, or have the six
Muscles round his eye forgotten colour,
And look it up, that Saturn-red, wild smudging,
In a dream-book ?

And I wonder, after the three-minute
News, if you remember
The bits of road that I do ?”

from : On Ballycastle Beach, Medbh Mc Guckian, Gallery Books, 1988/1995.

In Memory of David Marcus who died today, editor, translator,
writer and Friend of Irish literature
Paul Celan Snippet.

May 7th, 2009

“Poems are also gifts-gifts to the attentive”.

I am unsure of the provenance of the quote above, I found it within the pages of my constant companion book :

Simone Weill, Thinking Poetically, Joan Dargan, State University of New York Press. 1999

On the recommended reading list:

Alain Bosquet, “Stances Perdue” and “Fathomsuns and Benighted”, by Paul Celan.

The Devil , by Patrick Kavanagh.