THE KILKENNY INVOLVEMENT CENTRE AND RECOVERY COLLEGE SOUTH EAST HAVE PRODUCED A WONDERFUL ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY AND PROSE. ‘WHITE TWINE AND OLD SUITCASES’ COMPRISES OF 128 PAGES AND 60 AUTHORS AND IS COMPLEMENTED BY SOME WONDERFUL PHOTOS AND ARTWORK BY TASK CAMERA CLUB. IT IS PRINTED BY MODERN PRINTERS. IT IS DEFINITELY RECOMMENDED READING FOR ALL LOVERS OF POETRY. THE KILKENNY OBSERVER IS HAPPY TO RUN THE POEMS EACH WEEK TO PROMOTE CREATIVE WRITING AND TO HIGHLIGHT THESE WONDERFUL CENTRES. AVAILABLE IN ALL KILKENNY BOOK SHOPS. €10

A Letter to my Future Daughter

You will make waves, darling.

They will not be water

But they will be fire.

You will scorch the earth, my love,

Where others refuse to tread

Or give up and pack up

You will raise your head

And continue on.

Where others will walk the line

You will follow your own path.

And where others wear gold and crowns

You will wear courage, loudly.

My love,

You will be extraordinary.

You will be five hundred stars in the night sky

And you will wonder why

You ever bothered

Wonder what they think about you.

Raise your head, and follow through.

A struck match, you wait

To set this world ablaze.

Isobel Tiernan

John and the Frog

John knew a frog called Charlie

down by the small round pond

and on afternoons when the sun was hot

and no one was around

they’d sit by the pool for hours on end

the frog on a leaf

the boy in the sand

and talk to each other as boys and frogs do

of jelly and tadpoles and homework and zoos

and if John was unhappy or puzzled or sad

he’d tell Charlie about it and Charlie’d say ‘Gad’

‘Well that’s true’ or ‘How awful’ or ‘I say what a cod’

his expression was smiling and strikingly odd

and John sat there nodding the whole summer long

and grew nineteen inches and became very strong

Now that he’s bigger

he thinks it’s a joke

when his young brother Billy said

‘John, that frog spoke!’

Mike Watts

The Hump of the Week

On Wednesday evenings after

the supper, my father would

gather himself and drive

up the road to Manogue’s shop

for the paper.

He would come back with the

‘Kilkenny People’, a few groceries

And two bags of cheese and onion

crisps for my sister

and I.

Or two bars of chocolate or two

of something. Later we discovered

a wrapper in his jacket pocket.

He had a bar of his own

on the way home.

And why wouldn’t he?

‘The hump of the week,’

he would say,

‘We’re over the hump

of the week.’

Martha Woodcock