Tag: Bloodaxe

  • “Bookmarking The Oasis” and other poems by Srilata Krishnan

    “Bookmarking The Oasis” and other poems by Srilata Krishnan

    Things I didn’t know I loved (after Nazim Hikmet) I didn’t know I loved windows so much but I do – enough to wrestle someone to the ground over them, so light can, once again, flood my eyes. I didn’t know I loved bare feet so much, or walking away on them to wherever point,…

  • “Treatise on Uselessness” by Kevin Higgins

    Treatise on Uselessness after Rosita Boland Throughout my truly enormous life, I’ve never found a use for gypsies. When one decides to spend the night searching online for a worse deal on one’s house insurance, there’s never a gypsy about to help. Or when one advertises a vacancy for Associate Professor of English at Trinity…

  • “The Women of 1916” by Rita Ann Higgins

    The Women of 1916   ‘the state recognises that by her life within the home’ article 41.2.1. The Irish Constitution   Years before the offending article was even conjured up by De Valera and the very Reverend John Charles McQuaid with the help of a pack of Jesuits – the plan was set in train…

  • ‘The Price’ and Other Poems by Jane Clarke

    Every life She fills the days with movement, cuts back on coffee and wine, eats blueberries, red peppers, broccoli, kale, writes down the words she won’t let herself say, like arid, fallow, barren, ache. The man on the radio says every life is laced with loss, that’s what makes us whole. She reads a book…

  • ‘Effluence’ by Ruth Vanita

    ‘After the ups and downs of the day Manufactured alone in this small room, Aching in more than one way, I press Seven buttons, and am at last in heaven. Who is to be praised like Graham Bell For the greatest, kindest imagining, For knowing that no song can please so well, So heal ,…

  • Two Poems by Colette Ní Ghallchóir.

    The Spark of Joy / Dealan an Aoibhnis When I lit the sparkler long ago on the hearth, I ran the house with it screaming with delight. They scolded me, but grandfather said, ‘Let her be, let her be, there is no use talking. She will always light any flame she wishes.’ by Colette Ní…

  • “Looking for Mother” by Dorothy Molloy

    “Looking for Mother” by Dorothy Molloy

      I ransack her room. Loot and pillage. I root in her trunk. Crack open the tightly sprung boxes of satin and plush. Pierce my breast with her butterfly brooch. I pose in her hats, French berets, mantillas of lace, the veil that falls over her face, the boa she wraps round her neck. I…