All posts filed under: Women Writers

“Market Prayer” and other poems by Annemarie Ní Churreáin

Laundry   Here in the Indian foothills, I share a house with a man from Greece   who speaks no English perfectly, disappears for days on a motorbike,   leaves his laundry on the low make-shift line, grieving an absent sun.   Side by side they hang: his shirt, my summer dress as if they know each other well   and when he returns, smelling of engine oil, monsoon, rolled brown cigarettes,   we have no formal language, to share our separate joy.   Drip-drip on the balcony, a queer, white pool gathers below.   He holds at a sleeve, looks to sky. I open my palm for signs of rain.   Market Prayer   It is the scent of hanging fruit more than roots pulled from lines of parallel dirt that lingers after all that has happened. I touch a pyramid of lemons and everything is new again. I pick one, and close my hand around it as if to test these immutable seeds glowing in my darkness. For what, I do not know. …

I. Am. Straight. Are you ? & other poems by Lisa Lowther.

Dedicated to the many people all over the world that cannot live liberally & authentically for reasons of culture or other. May you find a path that frees you to be true to your beautiful intrinsic self, whatever that may be. Closet Ivory Solid Wooden Door – unbreakable Shining Gold Handle protected by two one on either side admittance – speaks quietly the other will decide as you attempt to open not just anyone is welcome White Backless Gowns on shining skin Chiffon, Encrusted Diamonds heels that can match any Elegant Masquerade Masks green eyes of foreign waters pearls, bright & round as the moon reflected only to the celebrant By Invitation – The Other Vintage Lace some roses too For Your Entrance – not an exit of mine, this time do close the door on leaving the two shall rest awhile A little like my own Even I did not feel invited into this poem I. Am. Straight. Are you ? Contemplation of what life once was & could have been momentarily fills my …

“Eavan Boland: Inside History” Edited by Nessa O’Mahony and Siobhan Campbell

EAVAN BOLAND INSIDE HISTORY (Arlen House, 2016) Eavan Boland: Inside History, a new volume of essays and poems in response to the work of the internationally-renowned Irish poet, will be published by Arlen House on 1 December 2016. Edited by poets Siobhan Campbell and Nessa O’Mahony, Eavan Boland: Inside History is a reappraisal of Boland’s influence as a poet and critic in the 21st century and is the first major commissioned collection of essays to be published on Boland. The volume includes critical essays on, and creative responses to, her work by leading writers, thinkers and scholars in Ireland, the UK, Europe and the US and reappraises Boland’s influence as a poet and critic for the 21st century. The fresh and diverse approaches provide a new frame for a critical engagement which crosses continental and aesthetic boundaries. The book therefore repositions Boland scholarship with a focus on the most important aspect: the poems themselves. Contributions include a foreword by Mary Robinson, former President of Ireland, as well as essays by Jody Allen Randolph, Patricia Boyle …

The Light Dancing” and “Lizzie” by Catherine Conlon

The Light Dancing When I close the door my father’s coat slow-dances against the dark wood. It is old, this coat, marked by many winters, labours of a lifetime done. I imagine him in the front yard screening sand for the new extension, coat collar upturned against the breeze, a cigarette ashing towards his lip. There’s a light in his eyes when I stop during play to prattle and hear him say “you’re the best woman in the house” Now coming from the Big Field, the day’s farming done, his great hands in deep pockets. Dark shoulders that bear a darkness coming, the last of the light dancing on his wet boots. (first published in Ropes 2015. Issue 23) Lizzie I had a child’s view of her, black stockinged legs without shape of calf or ankle at my grandmother’s hearth, the fire shining in her laced-up shoes. Balls of wool from an old shopping bag, and her tongue like the clappers as she looped and purled. Her needles took up the light, flew like red …

“Iago’s Curse” and other poems by Liza McAlister Williams

September Tenth, 2001   Outside the store, at the sidewalk sale, the breeze lifts each dress again as the shop girl tries to smoothen them: musses the chic brown challis pleats, ruffles the flamestitch voile whose turquoise and chartreuse V’s seem borrowed from another day. Sun, when it shines on this scene, is playful, peeping between steely clouds whose sky business does not admit playfulness. The baking, lazy summer’s over – the long summer when the towers that are about to fall amidst us in ruins have so far felt and withstood only the earliest tremors of their collapse.   Serenade (after Kevin Young) Rain popping on the air conditioner like hail on a tin roof like a handful of pebbles against a window like the pinging of a car engine cooling off – you can make a story to explain being alone again on a drenching night: a hobo curled in the hay of another anonymous barn a virgin with cold feet ignoring the signal to elope a travelling salesman out of gas in …