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
I was Born in 1954
I was born in 1954 and look I’m still alive
I used to drink water straight from the tap
Lord only knows how I survived
I went out without a mobile phone
And didn’t come home until dark
I played in the street in the winter
And in summer played over the park
I got in the bath every Friday,
When my mum dragged it in from the yard
I walked to school every morning
And never thought that was too hard
We only had two telly channels
And they were both in black and white
And the highlight was watching The London Palladium,
At 8 o’clock on Sunday night
The nearest I got to an iPad
Was one time when I got a stye
And of course I wore National Health Glasses
On account of this turn in my eye
My Nan lived upstairs in our house
And the toilet was out in the back
We used to pick up empty lemonade bottles
And get tuppence when we took them back
We went to Canvey Island for our holidays
And stayed on a Caravan site
Again with the outside toilet
We hated that walk late at night
We set off all our own fireworks
And in Winter we made our own sleds
We learned all life’s lessons and counted our blessings
When Mum tucked us into our beds
But above all of this we were happy
,specially when Mum learned to drive
I was born in 1954 and look I’m still alive
Chris Ross (The East End Poet)
Ar Meisce
i gcuimhne Mary Walsh O Keefe agus John Walsh
Ar meisce ar bhord loinge ag fágaint Queenstown
Ar meisce ag teitheadh ó chleamhnais, eaglaisí agus
alcólaithe foreigneach
Ar meisce ag an dtonntaoscadh, scread an fiolair
Bhíomar lagaithe nuair a scaoileadh isteach an Tír Nua sinn
Ar meisce ag an jazz, amoré, hallejluia
Ar meisce ag síoda, cadás, líneadach
Ag déanamh leapacha i dtithe na n-uasal
Ar meisce ach gan a bheith ar meisce ar chor ar bith
D’ólamar an t-airgead ar lá an Luain
Ar eagla ná beadh aon faoiseamh amárach ná aon lá eile
Ar meisce d’fhéachamar i dtreo na spéire
Ar meisce chaill cuid again gach aon ní, ár n-ainm
Shiúlamar siar amach go Wisconsin ag lorg cúnamh
Ar bhundúchasaigh na tíre
Ar meisce leis na fáinleoga a thagann agus a imíonn
Ó Chathair Nua Eabhrach,
Maraon leis na fiacha dubha a ghreamaíonn a gcrúba
De chraiceann na h-áite is a dhéanann a leaba dhi
Róisín Sheehy
Safe in my Mind
I was only five years old,
though I could have been just four.
She stood in our cottage kitchen,
relaxing, one hand on the dining table as if forgetting,
what she was about to do next.
I don’t remember her brushing her hair
or comforting me in my early years.
I am without vividness of her lighting the fire
or having her breakfast porridge.
Yet she seemed master
of this room of activity
as she stood there on that particular day.
Just as she does today
in my monochrome memory.
Rays of sunlight entered the doorway,
Illuminating her working face.
In that brief moment of my misunderstanding,
She soaked all the solar warmth on offer,
Then quickly gathered her thoughts.
I see the humble dwelling
and the faded colours of a bygone age, yet a vision of clarity,
I see it with regularity. Who was she?
Perhaps just a memory, a trick of the light
Or was she truly or really my mother?
When a young mother is suddenly called from this world.
In addition to every other emotion
There is confusion for family and friends
They must bear and mourn the loss.
Pat Shortall
