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“Blackjack” a bilingual volume of twenty contemporary Irish poets published by Singur Publishing

Blackjack; A Contemporary Volume of Irish Poetry (Singur Publishing, 2016) Cover painted by Sorin Anca Coordinated by Dorina Șișu and Viorel Ploeșteanu The twenty Irish poets translated into Romanian for this volume are: Afric McGlinchey, Billy Ramsell, Breda Wall Ryan, Christine Murray, Damian Smyth, David Butler, Dean Browne, Edward O’Dwyer, Eileen Sheehan, Eleanor Hooker, Eugene O’Connell, John W. Sexton, Leeanne Quinn, Maeve O’Sullivan, Mary O’Donnell, Nessa O’Mahony, Noel Duffy, Paul Casey, and Roisin Kelly.   The Blackjack translators are: Dr. Isabel Lazãr, Maria Liana Chibacu, Margento, Elena Daniela Radu, Mãdãlina Dãncus, Mihaela Ionitã, and Oana Lungu. I would like to thank Dorina Șișu and Viorel Ploeșteanu for including my poems, Delicate, Pretty Useless Things and Descent From Croagh Patrick in this edition. Thank you for a lovely launch evening, and I would like to expand the Index at Poethead to include more Romanian poets. The online edition of Blackjack. Revisita – Itaca  

From “Parvit of Agelast” and other poems by Máighréad Medbh

  From Parvit of Agelast (Verse Fantasy, to be published by Arlen House in 2016. The poems below are aspects of the ‘real’ world.) ‘Your face is ridiculous: O. . . . . leeeeee ugly🙂❤ / thanks, sure i know !’ :L’ – Ciara Pugsley, ask.fm net whn th little lite shinin frm abve doesnt n younguns mad fr luv r spected 2 b home thumbs go drum on magic pads n open windows so they travel in thr dreambots huntin souls they go weft upon th crystal warp unshuttled hookin up witout a plan 2 build a planet trances risin tru th base n snare of ask n tell wot u c is wot u feel n wot u feels rite tho snot a total giggle when th trolls r out —no1 knows th cause like with any freakin demic— bitch please u aint jesus wots wit all the posin howd u like my cock up ur ass, u cross-eyed ho som1 feelin tiny in the sprawlin fabric hauls back in2 her drum for a …

“Water Memory” and other poems by Jackie Gorman

Water Memory   The bottom untouched by sunlight, heart shrinking down as though the future isn’t real. Nothing to hold on to. Musty smell of the lake, fish and forgotten hooks. Boats on the horizon. Just the water before thought. My hook snagged in the want of this world. A silent urge to be like water, flowing yet strong enough to hold a ship. I draw a fish in my notebook.   The Hare   Barney stopped the mower and looked down. Full-grown, it was twitching in its soft fur. I twitched when he mumbled “kinder to kill it.”   With a mossy stone, he crushed it. Its liquid eyes and long ears stayed with me for weeks.   I dreamt of it dancing in the callow, when the moon was out. Threading the faint light between dusk and dawn, thresholds of transition.   Barney limped, next time I saw him climb out of the tractor.   The Hedgehog   My father lifted him up on a spade and put him down in the back …

“Bow Down” at York Literary Review

Bow Down   A harrowed tree nest-ruined tangled leaf.   Its bough down, bow down   A-flowering-tree  (still it flowers)   Submarine blue is where dawn occurs  (South/South-east of here)   Dawn’s light box runs from north blue to south warm   The point between is lit-not-lit, (nor) seamed   a bas-relief.   Bow Down is from A Hierarchy of Halls and was first published in York Literary Review, Issue #1 2016   York Literary Review

“We Did Not Choose The Sea” and other poems by Philo Ikonya

Unrecorded   Stone music When your music rises from your grave in flower and some stones quiver and sing notes musical I hear your voice   When music pricks the air from a needle in friction and touches the first traction molecule of air kissing your ear I have memories   When your words attach a molecule of air to another and in you we breathe, sing and live in hope when we cannot forget we rise I sing my soul your language   Our hair is proud and sings on air When loving is truly spoken It is in your ear in seconds in your heart and mind and soul   Add warmth and fire to it Your own interpretation original Your body moves in dance Still you rise, still you rise, dance and fall and rise from grave in flower   Weave your joy   With the tips of your fingers And all of you like the Orchestra conductor knows that music Know your body: Its heart drum Piano toes…   The epic …