BY JOHN FITZGERALD
Fennelly’s of Callan is renowned as a creative hub.
It lived up to that image again over St Patrick’s Weekend with an Open Mic that showcased a broad spectrum of talent and artistry.
The event was hosted in a part of Fennelly’s (a former pub and undertakers’) that once served as the Hearse Room: Funerals departed from it for decades, followed by grieving processions.
Now it’s a little Mecca for arty folk, heated in the winter by an ancient reactivated wood stove.
Julia Bohan, who curated the Open Mic, sees the event as a space where people can share their poetic, literary, or musical talent in a welcoming and non-judgmental milieu.
She’s the author of What’s Next?, a collection of poems inspired by both her own experience and her reflections on the many struggles and challenges that life springs at us like an old world school master set on teaching us the hard way.
Though thankfully, Julia had an English teacher who offered the kind of support and encouragement that can prove the difference between success and failure, fulfillment and despair, whether in the classroom or in the wider world.
Thanks to this enlightened teacher she overcame her initial lack of confidence and found that the barriers created by fear (that hold so many people back) became less daunting and then melted away.
Julia was composing poetry at the age of 16 and hasn’t stopped since, publishing her collection four years ago, from which she recited three selections at the Open Mic.
She read a poem in celebration of three years having passed since meeting her true love. This, and the others she recited, drew evocatively on nature. I was reminded of Wordsworth…his attunement with the great outdoors and the mystical inner self that can interact with it.
I liked her homage to a bird, whose sad fate might not count in the bigger scheme of things but whose humble life was worthy of respect.
Other poems in the collection cover themes ranging from mental health, growing up, and the perennial challenge of surviving abusive relationships. The book is available from Amazon.
Retired farmer Philip Lynch didn’t have too many supportive teachers in his young days, when the cane and the leather strap ruled the classroom. He developed his gift for public speaking after leaving school and joining Macra.
It organized debating contests and incentivized budding farmers to assert themselves in a country racked by emigration, recession, and joblessness. But he found time for the muse too, in between battling for landowners’ rights and tending his own bucolic farmstead.
He recited comic verse at Fennelly’s, much of it inspired by “voyages of discovery” on the dance floors of his youth and his penchant for poetic double entendre.
He had his audience smiling for a while, until he changed the mood with his recollections of the bad old days of famine, oppression, and long wars.
Bob Loughlin changed the mood in the room yet again, with an altogether different poetic vision. He has numerous publications to his credit, including two short story collections, a memoir and a poetry collection titled Man Poems, which contains 100 compositions. He recited a selection of his work, which reflects his belief in the value of mindfulness.
He mused: “pausing in front of the microwave while I cook my dinner. I breathe and let go of all the thoughts swirling about in my mind and just let myself be clear headed for a few minutes.”
Bob, though a down to earth practical man; can show his creative side with the ease of a hand slipping into a glove. Throughout his many career changes (including Quality Management, Massage Therapy, the Intellectual Disability Sector, and Kilkenny City tour guide,) his passion for literature and writing have never wavered. The group in Fennelly’s was treated to some lovely examples of his poetry and prose.
This was followed by soothing musical performances that enhanced the already relaxed atmosphere in the room.
Luka Grcevic captured the spirit of the original poem by Yeats when he sang Down by the Sally Gardens, a composition recalling the gentle power of love in a pastoral setting.
He was ably accompanied on flute by Yolanda Leon, whose mastery of the instrument drew gasps of admiration. Her music resonated with Luka’s lovely rendition of the song.
On classical guitar, Tom McCollam filled the once sombre Hearse Room with sweet and graceful melodies and for a few precious minutes, its occupants were transported to Seventh Heaven without having to vacate their earthly forms.
It was the spiritual equivalent of having one’s cake and eating it, and, aptly enough, after the Open Mic; the aroma of Etaoin Holahan’s fresh cakes had the happy band of aesthetes meandering towards the front counter.
The Hearse Room was empty again, left to the ghosts of Callan past and awaiting the next Open Mic in April.
