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
Mademoiselle
Her fragrance lingers,
A delicious aroma,
Subtle
and
Alluring,
Wafting
and meandering
Through the living temple
Where you hear the footsteps
of her heels
stabbing
the marble floor
Someone still walks
in this
living shrine
You see winding cigarette smoke
that vanishes
It is an incense
The little black dress
Signals to you.
These enigmas
all
meant
something
That couldn’t be solved not even
With quadratic equations or other
Mathematical theories
You consented to the killing of a God
Ignoring me with your blotchy cheeks
She doesn’t lie here anymore
Her fragrance will live on
She will never be found
She has slipped into the light.
Niamh Holohan
Unexpected Love
His warm bear paw holding mine,
the cold wind on our faces.
The last buttercups yellow in the ditch,
gorse ghosts lean their antlers into winter.
We breathe in wet October bog.
He waits as I scribble words
on a paper plate I found on the car floor.
His back to the misty hill,
a silhouette waiting for a catch-up kiss.
I run my fingers over the remaining gorse flowers,
wanting their coconut scent.
A dandelion hidden in the ditch
shines bright as a sunflower.
The road is mucky.
Granite erratics solid in the peat.
Wild parsnips crisp their umbrella flowers,
curl their silver leaves, waiting for winter.
We cross a bridge of branches and six-by-threes
that someone carefully laid across a puddle
and continue to the hill, our summit.
The rocks glisten toothpaste blue in the evening light.
Me in my green rain cape, he in his orange jacket
soak the cool air of our mountain top,
look out across the sea to Furbo, to mists of Clare,
inhaling the joy of these unexpected moments.
Moments we had given up on.
Anne Irwin
Flirtation
Even when enrobed in a housecoat,
It still arrives, unannounced, like a nosey neighbour
Asking for a cup of sugar when you know that was not her impulsion:
That she really wants to see the state of your skirting boards
And to tempt you into conversation about small likenesses that will mean
You will, somehow, obliviously ‒ playfully even ‒ agree to Marguerita Mondays.
Before you know it you are watching for her ponytail to bob beyond the hedges
Five minutes before she’s due to arrive and you make sure the kettle is boiled;
That you’ve wiped down the tiles. Limes abundant.
You put lipstick on, didn’t you?
And now you’ve tipped your sugar into the sink and reached for your china cup.
You do a double take in your hall mirror and leave to curiously beg
For something you do not need.
Emily Kelly
