Tag: Salmon Poetry
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‘Glendalough Sonnet’ and other poems by Angela Patten
Glendalough Sonnet Rain and relatives, relatives and rain. In Glendalough’s monastic town a jackdaw baby thrusts his downy head out of a round tower putlock and raises an ungodly yellow beak to squawk at gawking tourists snapping cellphones, the spines of their umbrellas dripping on the ancient bullaun stones where monks once mixed their potions…
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‘burnt offerings’ and other poems by Anne Casey
burnt offerings swilling cinders of eucalypt forests burning up and down the coast tinged with hints of fear singed possum hairs lifting into clear blue air an earthquake in Italy shakes me awake a mother crying somewhere volcanic embers cycling into smoke of broken promises women’s choices smouldering charred remains of exiles’ lives democracy doused…
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‘No Cure’ and other poems by Jean O’Brien
The Dreaming In my Dreamtime I was the lizard, skin smooth, yet scaled the contradictions of the Chameleon without the colour, for I had the colour of the rock grey, green warm and dry as the sand. My dance was the dance of perfect stillness. Reposed amongst the rocks only my darting tongue would betray…
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‘Invisible Insane’ and other poems by Afric McGlinchey
Traces You can’t decide, you keep glancing between two lines of thought the whole length of the tree-hung street; and you recognise someone saying your name, and you go right up to the moment, right up to the third person within you, but they’re a different shape in some essential way, and you re-read your…
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‘The First Rule’ and other poems by Susan Millar DuMars
Reclamation The blood has stopped and with it the need to suckle lesser creatures. My breasts are pale, cool proud and mine. The blood has stopped and with it the need to shield smaller souls inside me. My womb calm. Not weeping. And it’s my womb. I’m learning the pleasure of empty.…
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‘Ism Writers’ by Susan Millar DuMars
Ism Writers The world is full of ism writers sobbing, always sobbing for many distant victims – but if they found ‘you’ bobbing in the river, clearly drowning they’d explain in patient tones how your privilege, not the current, is what’s dragging you down. They’d talk until the bubbles stopped pen an elegy then for…
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“One Has To Admire His Ability As A Poet” by Kevin Higgins
One Has To Admire His Ability As A Poet “I was struck by … his courage in speaking out to defend the memory of Charles Haughey” Vincent Woods, RTE website To defend the memory of Boris Yeltsin’s vodka bottle. To take money from both the late Benito Mussolini and, when pragmatism demanded it, those who…
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“Colour” and Other Poems by Paul Casey
Colour for T.S.Eliot and after fourteen poets The purple stole away from the skins of plums Everywhere we turned became a maze of colour I protect you with an indigo coloured whisper You curve the ends of my black and white day Coffee brown, is mole, dying leaves, dry earth But smell led me here,…
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“Nurture” and other poems by Liz Quirke
Nurture In the nine months I didn’t nourish you, I made notes, I studied the seasons for ingredients to encourage your growth. Scraps of paper, post-its hidden in case anyone would view my thoughts, pity my trivia of leaves and berries. A mom yet not a mother, a woman yet not a woman.…
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“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…
Chris Murray 