The name of our new poetry book has been agreed - Strands of Silk.
We hope to launch this exciting fourth publication early August and in the meantime
here are a few more poems . . .
When I peel onions
I cry for the child I was,
playing with chanies
finding late strawberries
and getting in the way
while father saved his onion crop
spread it out to dry.
On Lenten Fridays, onions
made dinner, sautéed in butter
with parsley sauce, potatoes,
pepper, salt, great appetites.
For Easter Day boiled onion skins
dyed our hard-boiled eggs
Rhode Island red and we were eight
around the breakfast table
when the sun danced.
Bernie Kenny
Sorcery in Caheraderry
The home grows from a ring fort
through the clay of Caheraderry
as we fish lines of syllables
from grey Liscannor stone.
Across a marshy field, flag irises
shine through this greener grass
oversee the lift and return
of two coffin stools
legs turned vermicular and
splayed to take the load -
appanages of dignity that lightly
held a master’s weight a month ago.
And like the sorcerer’s apprentice
we witness the breaking of a spell
as coffin stools turn back
into occasional tables.
Carol Boland
She chose the rose
You live in oracle song
arouse the wisdom of sages
whose stories sing
in the lilt of your pen.
Through your epics
Cú Chulainn stalks
in rhyme upon rhyme
a hero alive in the Táin.
Maude Gonne at Howth station
you knelt at her feet
but her heart only listened
to a marching beat.Maureen Perkins
