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
Bedridden
Would you hold it against me if my eyes currently don’t go moist?
I’d turn back on the works if I had the choice.
Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you any less,
You’re like me, we need bulletproof vests.
You and me are so alike,
If I could turn on the works maybe then I’d be alright
Like you used to all the time every time,
Tell myself you’re ok, just a line I wasn’t buying
Lying in there for weeks at a time
What could we do? Wasn’t for the want of trying
But it wins, that thing that bears down and down,
Grey clouds, grey skies, no happiness to be found
All the time: “You alright? Anything we can do?”
There’s nothing, no. Alright, no, alright? Nothing new.
David Cooke
A White Feather
A white feather,
a Quill to write this note to you
a very personal one
with many twists and turns to it.
One that opens your heart
on a rainy day
full of love
it can’t get a right sentence
full of everything positive in it.
A brilliant detail
write over and over again
classic written
in basic ink
through many corridors long
a white feather
is the thought of the day
a very special song.
Damien Cooney
The Writing Group in Kilkenny
Boil the kettle. Quick. Quick. Why did I opt for the fancy glass one with the blue light?
I should have bought the super-fast-charging model. Perfect for rushed times like this.
Tapping my toe against the cabinet, chewing on the sleeve of my cardigan, I wait.
My mind drifts to the online session ahead. I look forward to this every Wednesday
and I am bereft of it when we are on break. Though my attachment is entirely selfish.
This keeps me on track. It raises the standard. I get so much from hearing everyone
speak and share their hard-learned truths. And they are so tangible, always there
in the poetry of their words, in the heartfelt praise, in the sweet lyrical flat accents.
Bubbling boiling beeps bring me back to the hurried moment. Slapping in a green teabag,
lashing on the water, thanking myself for not using milk or honey ‒ time goes unwasted.
Seconds to spare, I eject myself from the kitchen, my cardi parachuting me to the finish ‒
landing just in time. Screens pop open with familiar faces and, excitingly, a few new ones.
The usual chorus of hellos, how-are-ya’s, and unmute-yourself-theres begin. And so I relax
into the warmth of my mug, into the sound of community, into the longed-for voices of home.
Catherine Cronin
