Poem of the Week

Regalement By Aoife Finnegan New plant in the sunroom, small bird floating outside the kitchen window. I was there that night- wasn’t I? Many nights (I was there), many moons ago. New mark on my face, where there wasn’t one…

Recipe By Steve Cullen Break 4 metaphors into a green enamelware bowl and mix vigorously with the tarnished fork that lies with the spoons in the cutlery drawer. Add symbolism, and the zest of a childhood memory. Drop a knob of irony…

Fool’s Paradise By Jorge Leiva Bring me back to the dry land,  the olea trees and the heat, white grapes under feet, men with skins getting tanned.  Bring me back to the dim light, bodegas where wine matures.  No better sight.…

Some Morning when you wake  take time to be intentional.  In a leap of faith, you sow  seedlings or whisper wisdom,  you’ll never know its ending.  While you prepare a mug of coffee,  or plan a conference, choose  to spread…

Cork City 1994 By Denis Mockler He gushed I love you I thought You don’t even know me,  but keep doing what you’re doing. Please don’t stop now. Afterwards we sat by the window of his bedroom, drinking coffee and smoking…

A Tree's First Frost By David O'Sullivan I feel for you this cold morning your old die, all around, sadness. Then with both hands I hold, comfort your extremities. Painful to my hands trying to warm, no thaw the…

Bath With Bump By Irene Halpin Long I lie in the water. Is mise an Blascaod Mór and you are a pebble deep within my belly. My hair is a sea anemone, fanned and filtered, waving at the ceiling’s fluorescent sun. I try to…

In limbo by Angela Washington Curled up in bed  a tiny shrunken foetal figure  white hair on white pillow  her body scarcely there  swamped by white covers still as death  in limbo  stuck  in a no man’s land  hovering on a threshold…

After All by Hiram Larew For some reason you think in a different way as soon as you go outside. It doesn’t make any difference if you’re in the city or far up in the hills. It doesn’t matter if there is time or not or if it’s spring…

Mapping a New Reality By Siobhan MacMahon When all the old paths have been concreted over, the way forgotten, when words shape-shift beneath your feet, spelling another reality, when you don’t know what to pray for…