Tag: Elaine Feeney
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A Celebration of Irish Women Poets on Bloomsday 2015
PEARLS AT BLACKFRIARS For his Winter’s Tale, Master Shakespeare calls for a covered stage with the scent of candle-grease and orange-peel heavy on the air. There must be torches to give movement to shadows and life to the statue; and for Hermione’s face – tincture of pearl, crushed. With this bowl of…
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‘Sylvia Plath You are Dead’ and other poems by Elaine Feeney
Charles Bukowski is my Dad He stands with me in the best-dressed-lady-line, holding open my pearl lace umbrella to the ravaging Galway rain. He calls me up on blue Mondays and gives me whiskey on bold Fridays. He fills up my father-space He fills up my mind-space He fills up my hot-water bottle His advice…