All posts filed under: Letters

Mary Cecil’s Rathlin Island poems

Adagio for Strings   My heart that soared and climbed To other realms of fantasy That longs to find the answers To everything   To dream those endless dreams To drift in waves of oceans Of oneness complete And really know   In pools of beautiful thought Transport my soul Where heaven will be And let me be   © Mary Cecil   The Golden Hare   Where wild flowers cling And heather sweetly grows The magic hare reclines With fur of glowing gold   His spirit of quiet magnificence In lands of legends born Where unicorns are dreamt of And fairies sport in human form   To catch a fleeting glimpse Against the burning sky A moment in a lifetime A flash of mystery goes by   Where came his golden sheen That gift from other realms To add a glowing wonder Hidden in the ferns   So swift he flees With graceful lops he leaps Transporting us to mystical lands To dream of when we sleep   © Mary Cecil Rathlin Island . …

‘The House of Altogether Nothing’ & Other poems by Jan Sand

The House of Altogether Nothing The countryside in which it stands Is broken with large jagged rocks. Its trees are dark, from northern lands, Whose branches scratch the sky; boney bough knocks One against the other. Cold winds finger through Odd strands of captured human hair, Torn newspaper strips look as if they grew Amongst the leaves to bleakly declare Of violence and despair. Black groves smell Of damp decay. They display white fungoid growth Through which black insects grope, explore a shell Deserted by a snail that caps its glowing trail. One is loathe To venture near this place of threats But winding through dead leaves, broken rubble Is the path where stumble those, full of regrets, Replete with fears, burdened with trouble, Pass to reach the house. Its peaks and walls Assault the sky like a cataclysmic scream, Intertwined grotesqueries that captures and enthralls Those destined to drop into its dream. The weary travelers approach in single file, one by one, Trudge to the door which swings open wide. They know their journey’s …

Letter: Filming On Skellig Michael

My letter to the Editor regarding how we treat heritage in Ireland, published July 30 2014. Sir, – It is now more than 10 years since Martin Cullen TD abolished Dúchas, the Heritage Service. Our national and built monuments are not adequately protected. When I questioned the OPW decision to allow filming on Skellig Michael, a general response was “it’s about jobs”. In the deep recession of the ’80s the OPW partnered with private agencies and owners to train young people in heritage protection and craft skills (stonework, wood-carving and preservation). These were jobs and skills geared toward protecting and conserving our heritage.   In the 10 years since the abolition of Dúchas, 39 sites in Tara were demolished to facilitate the M3 toll road. There are robberies of stunning stonework and the job of Dúchas has been divided between the Department of the Environment and the OPW.   Heritage is not adequately protected. We are not training the young in conservation techniques and we have no statutory agency for protecting our natural and built …

Three Poems by Müesser Yeniay

Flower Village   I learnt how to stand put from a flower   Saw no other sun drank no other water   I recognized my roots as a village my earth, the sky   Seasons passed above me a nest of ants, bosom friends   I learnt how to be a flower solely… solely standing put   Between My Body and the World   In my hair, despair is growing longer its root is in me, however   like earth I am smooth in the center of it   if I put my memories in a tent -and myself in another tent –   my eyes are disappearing…   I am as if I have gone out a seed I will go back into that seed   I am a footprint of a horseshoe on the face of daytime   between my body and the world I should put a distance   Now Do not Tell Me of Men!   My soul hurts so much that I awaken the stones under the earth   My …

‘Ceathrúintí Mháire Ní Ógáin’ and ‘A fhir dar fhulaingeas’ by Máire Mhac an tSaoi

Máire Mhac an tSaoi poetry Original Irish versions followed by English translations . Ceathrúintí Mháire Ní Ógáin I Ach a mbead gafa as an líon so – Is nár lige Dia gur fada san – B’fhéidir go bhfónfaidh cuimhneamh Ar a bhfuaireas de shuaimhneas id bhaclainn Nuair a bheidh arm o chumas guíochtaint, Comaoine is éiteacht Aifrinn, Cé déarfaidh ansan nach cuí dhom Ar ‘shonsa is arm o shon féin achaine? Ach comhairle idir dhá linn duit, Ná téir ródhílis in achrann, Mar go bhfuilimse meáite ar scaoileadh Pé cuibhreann a snaidhmfear eadrainn. II Beagbheann ar amhras daoine, Beagbheann ar chros na sagart, Ar gach ní ach bheith sínte Idir tú agus falla – Neamhshuim liom fuacht na hoíche, Neamhshuim liom scríb is fearthainn, Sa domhan cúng rúin teolaí seo Ná téann thar fhaobhar na leapan – Ar a bhfuil romhainn ní smaoinfeam, Ar a bhfuil déanta cheana, Linne an uain, a chroí istigh, Is mairfidh sí go maidin. III Achar bliana atáim Ag luí farat id chlúid, Deacair anois a rá Cad leis a …