Awfully Brrr for May

Coldy, coldy coldy. Out weather here in Ireland is giving us much pause for thought, what with these unseasonable northerly winds. The garden outside was given its annual shearing about three weeks ago and has been behaving immaculately ever since.

My pinky clematis looks lovely, spread all over our neighbour's wall and all the other plants I put into a small raised bed are thriving - bar the bean plants. Is it the cold? Is it the rain? I don't know.

What I do know is that the peas I put beside them are thriving; already climbing up the string and bamboo wigwam I set up for them. But the beans are withering and looking decidedly peaky. I should have just stuck with the peas overall, perhaps.

In writing news, all is very quiet since the end of the Dundalk Book Festival back at the end of April - almost a month ago. I believe most events were well attended and we Poetry Divas helped to rock the Panama Cafe on the Square (hai). We had an interesting afternoon, with many readers and even a musical interlude. More on Michael Farry's blog.

A highlight for me was Noel McGee, doing an excerpt from a one-man play, I, Kavanagh. This is a brightly woven piece with excerpts from Kavanagh's work and work about his work. The audience loved it - what with Patrick Kavanagh being from out the road a bit - and I saw many audience members mumming the words of his poems along with the actor.

There were parts in it I remembered from Antoinette Quinn's Biography of Kavanagh, which by the way if you've never read it is a fantastic read and full of inspiration too. One to buy rather than borrow. "O he was a quare one..." Kavanagh's poetry is something I return to time and again, probably because of the local connection but also because of his way of talking about the land. When you're a country girl, like me, it's nice sometimes to be grounded by what you've come from.

All Ireland Poetry Day: Louth

There's a wonderful broadcast happening on Dundalk FM at 11am, called Bookends, which is hosted by the capable Eileen Corcoran. The programme will focus on two poetry books launched in Dundalk recently – “The Angels Share”, by Barbara Smith (yes, me!) and “Once Upon Reflection” by Petra Berntssen. 

Petra Berntsson is a visual artist born in Sweden, now living in Dundalk. She has combined her paintings with writing from other poets and writers. The connections happened naturally and poems emerged from paintings, and paintings grew from words. The end result, “Once Upon Reflection” is a beautiful book, inspired by Petra’s years living in Ireland.

The programme will also feature four Louth people readings poems which they love.They are: Cllr. Jennifer Green, Cathaoirleach, Dundalk Town Council; Pat Keating an active participant in the cultural life of Dundalk,; Tommy Kelly, a visual artist, comic writer, and social commentator and Cathal Cassidy, a broadcaster on Dundalk FM 100.

As if that isn't plenty to be going on with, it's then off to Dundalk Instutute of Technology for a 12.30 pm lunchtime reading with myself and John Noonan. John is a Longford native and the 2012 winner of the Goldsmith Prize for his poem 'Glass Maker'. He is also heavily involved in the Dundalk Writers Group.

There's always something happening in Louth for All Ireland Poetry Day and this year is no exception.

Upcoming July Readings

I have two lovely readings coming up. The first is in Dublin, next Thursday 12th July (especially for Norn Iron fans), at 6.30pm in the Twisted Pepper, Abbey Street, Dublin, with the lovely Seven Towers; it's just a quick slot in a themed evening on the subject of 'Friendship' - I think there may be one or two poems from my book that I can tenuously link!

The following Saturday 14th July (Bastille day), I read in lovely Tralee, at the gala Poets in the Doghouse reading in Siamsa Tire - note the early start of 5pm - with all the poets from this years' publications, including Monica Corish, Gréagóir O’Dúill, Michael Farry, Anatoly Kudryavitsky, James Lawless & meself. Looking forward to that one, as I missed out last time, in 2007. Great craic will be had by everyone afterwards, no doubt and I hope to get some pictures too.


It's been a busy six weeks or so since my poetry collection, The Angels' Share was launched: back at work, portfolios to be marked, new classes started and it feels like I'm only getting to the stuff I should be doing now.

Life has a funny habit of going on, while you're trying to keep pedaling the bike of normality, in the pouring rain.

Nearly there with The Angels' Share

I've got great news now: the book has gone to print and I'm in the process of sending invitations. The launch date is set for Wednesday 23rd of May, in the Basement Gallery, Dundalk Town Council Offices, Crowe Street, Dundalk @ 6pm. My dear poetry friend and colleague, Enda Coyle-Greene has agreed to launch it for me.

In fact, that's a very busy week for Doghouse Books as two other books are launched too. 


Monday 21st, sees the launch  in Trim, Co. Meath at the Castle Arch Hotel, Trim, Co. Meath.(Time: 8pm) of Asking for Directions, by Michael Farry and then Rus in Urbe, by James Lawless, gets its lift-off in Leixlip, Co. Kildare at the Springfield Hotel on Tuesday 22nd at 7.30pm. 

My book is available to pre-order now, but books won't be sent until launch date.You can order here at Doghouse's website. If you're around Dundalk on the 23rd, consider yourself invited - there's free wine!

Poems and Mushrooms

I picked this up from Rob McKenzie's blog, who in turn is talking about Don Share's take on a poem by Katherine Kilalea which is called 'Henneker's Ditch.

Share quotes the poem - if it is not the whole, I'd be dying to get the collection it's in, New Poetries V - and then goes on a really interesting meander, showing us not only a good appreciation, but a good insight into his own thought processes when he comes across a poem that needs unlocking.

I last felt this interested in a poem when reading T.S. Eliot's Prufrock, or Ginsberg's Howl. This is a poem that's got me thinking about hybridity, dream sequences, and - of all things - some of the things I used to do, twenty or so years ago before I got sense.

They would be drugs - well, mushrooms in particular (that's about as hard as it got around here - they were free!) - which I'm not advocating in any shape or form - but these were the first thing I thought of when I read Kate Kilalea's poem... I've put this here more as a note or reminder to myself, more than anything - but the poem is exciting, and has me thinking hard.

Spring, Sprong, Sprung

The clocks go forward tonight, giving that extra hour of daylight and making everyone all summery again. It's about time, I've been waking up so early in the mornings, because of the angle of the sun being that little bit higher, and I've been paying close attention to the daffodils that I planted in the garden last autumn - I hadn't any bulbs planted in the garden, and it's nice to watch them growing, from the green budding tips to the blowsy yellow trumpets that sway in the wind, announcing that SPRING IS HERE!

I'm back from France, which was a really interesting trip away. While the ceremony and burial were poignant, the French way of carrying out these rituals was very interesting to observe - so dignified and respectful, and yes even elegant - so French! I've also met a whole load of new relations, cousins two and three times removed, and there are some interesting times ahead as we will all forge new connections through the children in families on both sides. I reckon that my lot now have a very valid reason to pay more attention in their French classes at school, and hopefully we will see some exchanges happen between the families, over the coming years. It's all about family in the long run :¬)

So, it's back to normal, until Wednesday when I fly to London to take part in that exciting poetry reading in the wonderful bookshop at Oxfam Marylebone. Anne Stevenson has an extra long slot, so I can't wait to hear her wonderful poetry in person, as well as the others which include Malika Booker, Emma Jones, Jacquelyn Pope, and Don Share. Busy, busy, busy! Now, back to the garden to make the most of this fine spell we're having.

Reading for Oxfam, London

Readings don't get any better than this one coming up in London, in support of Oxfam on the 1st of December (my birthday!) - just under three weeks away:

Oxfam Christmas Poetry Reading hosted by Todd Swift.
Oxfam is very pleased to be featuring six fine poets, from America, England, Ireland, and Scotland, with special guests Bloodaxe poet Jen Hadfield (TS Eliot Prize winner) and Picador poet John Glenday (Grain) headlining. Other poets reading are: Barbara Smith (Ireland); Sheila Hillier (England) and two visiting Americans, Dante Micheaux and Michelle Boisseau. This event will be ticketed. Tickets £5, concessions £3. Tickets available in advance from the shop or by phone: 020 7487 3570.

The observant among you might have noticed something a wee bit 'odd' about the line-up... :)

Salt, Neruda and Ten more years

To help keep Salt Publishing's head above water there's the Just One (more)Book campaign, which is simple enough: browse and buy one book. Recessionary times have been incredibly tough on publishing: more so on poetry! There are some great books there, and if you've been promising yourself a book from Salt, now's the time.

But there's also a 'flashmob' gathering in London today - er, just now - at the Southbank Centre, at 3pm London time, to celebrate ten years of Salt Publishing with a mass public recital of Pablo Neruda's "Ode to Salt."

To get you in the mood:

Ode to Salt

This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me
but
it sings
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.

by Pablo Neruda

Much more here at this link

Younger Poetry Magazine

There's an online magazine, YM, available for the younger reader who's dipping their toe into poetry: Ben Wilkinson calls attention to it over on his blog, for a short article he has written on Louis MacNeice's last collection The Burning Perch, which if I didn't already know, I'd definitely be more curious about.

It reminds me of the book on my shelf by Ted Hughes: Poetry in the Making, a Handbook for Writing and Teaching. These were a series of lectures for younger people on poetry that were once broadcast by the BBC, collected into book form. I read these again and again for inspiration and angles: it's available second hand, on certain websites, but I think it really could bear being re-issued.

Books beget more books

At least books always seem to do so in my case. There I am, on Friday, in Dublin's Chapter's bookshop on Parnell Street, as part of the audience, to help welcome Salmon Poetry's Prophesying the Past by Noel King into the world, and I just can't help myself: arriving early, picking and sifting from the poetry bookshelves.

What do I find? Michael Donaghy's Collected, as well as The Shape of the Dance. Oh joy! I spent all yesterday (Saturday) and today devouring them. God Donaghy was so good (!) - in prose as well as poetry - and I did like him before in poetry, but now I am totally besotted (!) and I have a much better understanding of all the varying schools of poetry (and what nonsense it all is) as well a good overview of why form is a good tool to have in the poetry kitbag. Lucky those who attended his classes in London back in the day. . .

I also found Material by Ros Barber on the bookshelves (alas the last copy), and have been dipping in and out of this extraordinary book. The title poem is practically faultless and there are so many gems in it that it will take some unpacking. Somehow I also came home with Peter Porter's Afterburner as well...

Back to Prophesying the Past, though. I confess to having more than a passing interest in this one: I've proofed it and read the poems many times, and Noel King is also editor of Doghouse who published me back in 2007. It was a real delight to hear the poems given voice and for us to finally see this long-awaited book delivered. Noel reads in the Poetry Cafe in London with Eileen Sheehan on Wednesday 16th June at 7.30pm.

A Poem, A Plaque

A few weeks ago, Dundalk Town Council's Arts Office invited me to come over and launch the poem they commissioned me to write, celebrating 15 years of the Arts Office existing in Dundalk, at their annual music bursary awards. They had the poem cast in bronze, which is wonderful although a tad daunting, because it's permanent - so I just hope I got it right.

The poem grew from a recording I was invited to be part of back in August 2009. Dundalk Arts Office was leaving its then premises and moving back into the Town Hall, in the Basement Gallery. Many prominent figures in Dundalk's arts life were asked to come and talk to Harry Lee, of Dundalk FM about how the arts had developed over the past fifteen years.

There were musicians, artists, writers and people involved in drama who spoke of the importance of the arts office and how it enabled people to become more involved in the artistic development of different areas in Dundalk. I enjoyed being a part of that programme, as well as listening to all the figures talking about their experiences. Whether politicians or people on the ground, each person's perspective was interesting and I tried to encapsulate that into the poem.

I know it has especial resonance for those in Dundalk, but perhaps it may not make sense to those outside the town - but that's okay. That's the thing about a commission - you can't please (fool) all the people, all of the time.

Feel free to click on the picture - you should be able to read the poem :)

Solving Sylvia?

I almost regret getting stuck into Ariel's Gift last week, as it ended up with me re-reading Birthday Letters, Ariel (the facsimile of her original ms), reading Her Husband, by Diane Middlebrook, and then turning to the internet to order Plath's Collected Poems (I did have this, but don't know where it's gone), as well as her Journals, Letters Home (you need these both, apparently, to balance each other out), and Johnny Panic & her collected Prose. I stopped myself just as the bill came to the 100 mark, at the children's stories - but only just.

I've also ordered some Anne Sexton, and Anne Stevenson's Bitter Fame, oh and AS's Collected too, I read her work at AMK and decided I really should have my own copy. But that's by the by.

Anyhoo, what do I think of the whole thing? I find S&T's whole story appallingly fascinating. Their sad story reminds me of my own parents: miserable together, miserable without each other. My mother felt trapped by the whole marriage versus a creative life. Like SP, my mother had an American upbringing and education (her parents fled France when WWII broke out). In Dublin at the end of the 60s, at the age of twenty-one, she met my dad, at uni, and got pregnant, married and ended up living in the back-of-beyond in a border-town-land just as the Troubles were starting away from the city lights, trying to raise children and have a creative life. The strain of trying, coupled with the loss of a baby, I think, caused her mental unravelling, and contributed to the subsequent demise of the marriage. He too had his own mental and personal issues - there are always two sides, and then ten more, to any story.

Weirdly (or perhaps not, if you're a psychologist), I've found myself in slightly similar circumstances to my mother: six children and all the concomitant responsibilities that go with those different personalities; as well as my own wants, wishes and desires for a working creative life. I guess you could say that I'm looking at my options; weighing my life and wondering, Have I got the balance right? Am I doing what I want to be doing? I'm beginning to think that the answer may not be what I want it to be; so I'm going to have to think strongly about what's important to me: the writing I should be doing, instead of the energy I give to others in the teaching process (Plath & Hughes taught in the US for a year; they didn't do much writing).

But back to the original spark of this journal-post: Ariel's Gift is designed as a sort of primer; like a literary York notes to Hughes' Birthday Letters. Erica Wagner takes each part of the couple's life together and matches the poems of that period. It begins with the infamous meeting of Plath & Hughes (she reciting his recently published poem back to him; he being snarling and manly - and all the rest) and goes on from there.

After a certain point, I couldn't escape feeling that Birthday Letters is more than an apologia gleaned from a lifetime of mourning and regret. Hughes would always write from the vantage point of selectively looking in his rear-view mirror; how he sees things and how he has to re-read her work in cataloguing it for posterity (and sale to Smith College) -memory being a trickster too. BL is in some aspects a synthesis of both of their work; the working relationship they had once shared was almost symbiotic: they re-used each other's mss to write on, they seized on each other's images and metaphors from poem to poem. In Hughes re-reading of her work, re-working of this material personal to them both, perhaps he came more to terms with the psychic rift that occured between them - but this is to trivialise the whole matter, and to re-hash what a whole pile of other people have written as well; I do realise.

Our fascination as a reader is with the what-ifs: what if she had lived and gone on to develop her writing talent; what could her riposte have been. That is why their story is enduringly fascinating to me - almost fifty years later; that and the personal similarities that I identify with.

Mad Yaks & Everyman & Ariel's Gift

This week's been great - all these books started arriving in the post and then yesterday my youngest son brought up an envelope that my husband had missed: a book that arrived while I was away, before I got sick - The Floorshow at the Mad Yak Cafe! I'd been looking forward to buying this and reading it, but it was a real unexpected surprise to find it already here :)

I ripped open the envelope and was delighted to read Colin Will's work inside - intially impressed by the closing Far Eastern sequence, which includes the title poem; avoids being 'tourist poetry' by the fact of being calm and examining, without trying to judge by Western standards. Others that jump out at me are 'Mr Self-Destruct does not want to workshop today' (great title, huh?); 'Old campaigner,' 'Exiles,' and these are just for starters. I recommend this book, just for the whispering subtlety that is shown in poems like 'The Jewel in the Gym.' Imagined or real emotion-scapes, I think its hard to tell the difference between them; here's a writer who's invested a great deal in the act of imagining and making art from that act. Something about it, which reminded me strongly of the work I'd been reading earlier in the week, Michael Donaghy's Safest.

Other books received: from Michael Farry, (thank-you - so much) a whole block of Roths (could that be a new turn of phrase). I started with American Pastoral, which I found heavy-going, but brilliant at turns. I read the shorter Everyman yesterday and I actually loved it: the grim, gutsy Jewish humour behind every twist and turn of the protaganist's fate. It starts in a graveyard at a funeral, and tells the story of how the bloke in the coffin came to end up there; supplying all his faults and failings in between. As an examination of the life of a man and an exposition on the theme of regret, I thought it was pretty masterful. I did wonder though, if it was a healthy thing to be reading about someone with dodgy health, when my own health is dodgy! I have The Plot Against America to go, but I might wait for a few days; Roths are rich and need digesting.

Currently reading Ariel's Gift, which TFE had a spare copy of, and am reading it in tandem with Birthday Letters and Ariel, which are staring at me from the bookcases in my bedroom. A'sG is meaty and interesting; how we are all obsessed with Hughes and Plath and what happened to them both. Underneath, they were people -deeply flawed, deeply talented, but people. Erica Wagner seems to want to show how Hughes paid for his repression of his part of the experience, but tried to make up for it with Birthday Letters. More on this when I've read it, if I haven't got fed up with it...

Annamakerrig Awaits

I'll be off writing for a whole week, undisturbed (sans hub, sans kids, sans everything - bar the sense), at the Tyrone Guthrie Centre for Artists and Writers.

Tyrone Guthrie, playwright, was a rare spirit. He gifted his estate, deep in the drumlins of Co. Monaghan, to the Irish state upon his death in 1971, as a place to be developed for giving artists a space to work in.

I've already received a couple of bursary residencies to this magical place, last year (one lot from Dundalk Town Council, another from the centre itself), and by the Goddess did I make the most of those three weeks.

This coming week is my last gifted week there, making the most of Tyrone Guthrie's far-sighted hospitality, which is continued through the friendly staff who mind the place on his behalf, for us writers and artists: Guests of the Nation, indeed!

Thanks TG.

The Chimaera

The new issue of The Chimaera is online, and there's a review of Nigel McLoughlin's Chora, a new and selected from Templar Poetry.

There are also other reviews from Angela France on Alison Brackenbury & Paul Stevens on Jee Leong Koh's book, Equal to the Earth (lovely title, don't you think?), and poems galore, themed and unthemed, from all sorts of poets (Alison Brackenbury & Anna Evans to name but a few).

Check out this lovely online poetry ezine, it's presented well and easy to navigate and some of the poems can also be heard as well as read.

Oh yeah, I wrote the NMcL review... nearly forgot!

Lovely things to read

This week, into my mailbox arrived Paul Maddern's Kelpdings (great title); The Stinging Fly (so many good stories/poems in there - and congrats to Kit Fryatt on winning piece of the year), The Dark Horse from Scotland/US (really enjoyed this last subscription and now they've gone 'buy online' so there's no excuse!). Last but not least is the Poetry Divas 1(still a few copies left- go there to buy!) pamphlet with those brazen poetry huss... lovely ladies! The Divas work hard and play hard as is evidenced by the poems in this first edition, complete with a cover of pink wellie-booties in a love-heart - oh yah.

Paul Maddern's pamphlet from Templar was one of the winners of their pamphlet competition last year and it's just gorgeous. The poems, the cover (how can you not like a cover that colour), the pamphlet, the words... it's like taking a vacation in your head in much warmer Island waters... how I long for some real heat in the sunshine now.

This year's Templar pamphlet comp. is already open, in fact it closes mid-April, so you'd want to get a move on soon. The judge is Pat Winslow (get her poetry if you can - very, very talented poet) and the comp. closes on the 8th May 2010. Get cracking now (that last bit was to myself ) B)

A Christening Through Binoculars

‘I can see God through my nocliers,’ you said
and we indulged your three-year-old self
with shushing smiles as the priest intoned the rites
that would make you one of theirs.

I held your baby sister in my arms as we waited
our turn for water droplets, for you and her.
You scrutinised the ceiling, hunted for loose angels,
asked ‘ If heaven was inside the chapel walls?'

I thought not, but didn’t say, as you were bundled
up by a burly Godfather, to receive your blessing,
and I offered the crowns of both your downy heads
in return for confirmation that binoculars allowed.


This is pure rough, I'll take it down later for work!

More Lovely Poetry Books...

... being launched in Dublin on Tuesday 8th December @ 6.30pm at the Unitarian Church, St. Stephens Green, by Director of Poetry Ireland, Joseph Woods. This is a lovely venue for a launch, as you get to read your work from a pulpit and the acoustics are very good in poetry terms. Plus, there are interesting stain-glass windows to gaze at as you hear the words.

The books in question? Well, Arlen Houseare are launching five books; Red Riding Hood's Dilemma, by Orfhlaith Foyle, Shedding Skin, by James Martyn, imram/odyssey by Celia De Freine, An Urgency of Stars, by Geraldine Mills and The Truth in Mustard, by Terry McDonagh.

All interesting titles, I think you'd agree. I can't go myself, because I must teach... but I shall be looking forward to ogling the books and getting inside the covers before too long :)


Good luck to them all on the night - maybe you might fit this line-up in :)

Michelle's Peony Favourite Poetry Books 2009

Michelle of Peony Moon has a great series running just now: writers with their favourite books of 2009.

Part 5 includes my choices, but not my whys... more on this rumination later. As you can guess, I was hard pushed to actually nail three, never mind six - there are so many great poetry books out there.

If you were stuck for a Christmas present for someone who likes poetry, and wanted to get them something out of the usual for Christmas, you could do a lot worse than browse these lists and google the results. It just shows you there's some mighty fine poetry out there...

StAnza virtual poetry fest

Have a look at the post on Colin Will's blog about tomorrow, Saturday 14th's web festival of poetry, brought to you by the folks at StAnza.

They're beaming in live poetry from all over the world, from Mumbai, India to Sacramento, USA and everywhere in between, by satellite to St Andrews and then it's simultaneouly being webcast - so you can enjoy the action from the comfort of your own laptop.

StAnza website is here The festival kicks off at 1pm and finishes at around 10pm with live music etc to close. Remember this is a live stream; there won't be any catching up if you've missed anything, but you can tune in at any stage during the day.

Colin has the full line up in his post, mentioned above, along with poems, pics and translations. Do check out this exciting virtual poetry festival if you can, Saturday!