All posts tagged: Alice Kinsella

A Celebration of Irish Women Poets on Bloomsday 2018

‘Hinnerup’ by Jess McKinney . sewing after so long i wonder if there exists a song a glass of water warmed in the sun for each age she’s ever been all the taps here run scalding following the dregs of wine flowing from hot water factories tell me about her lover stagnant on the periphery who lived three towns away making it harder to soak she would travel hours to him the wilting orchids every other weekend softening on the windowsill found sanctuary with his family reaching up into the day young and in love delicate and deliberate i’d like to know how she felt like grandmother’s thin fingers on the birthday that I learned to hate shaking but capable the night i faked to get away   Hinnerup is © Jess McKinney Jess Mc Kinney is a queer feminist poet, essayist and English Studies graduate of UCD. Originally from Inishowen, Co. Donegal, she is now living and working in Dublin city, Ireland. Her writing is informed by themes such as sexuality, memory, nature, relationships, gender, mental …

‘When’ and other poems by Alice Kinsella

  Periwinkle (I) Your fingers unveiled the shell, like the unwrapping of a present. Little twirls on the bright jewel found amongst greys, greens, muddied sand. Words whistling through tooth gaps, excitement brought by being somewhere new. Finding me still at home, unchanged, ready to believe any adventure. Curled sunshine shell like the buttercup reflection on your chin, shimmering summer sea surface, as we held our fingers too close to each other’s faces for the first time. The swirl of it, poised to spring, and unravel into something new, something other than the little yellow shell, carried home from your holidays, to share a little of the sunlight with me. Periwinkle was originally published in The Galway Review Tír na nÓg In lieu of history classes we learned legends of warriors, fierce fighting Fianna we were sure lived in our blood. Neart ár ngéag We waved ash branches for swords, flew down hills on steeds with wheels, foraged berries, scaring magpies with screams, cleared the stream in one leap — this was our land. My …

A Celebration of Women’s Poetry for International Women’s Day 2016

Both a page and performance poet, Anne Tannam’s work has appeared in literary journals and magazines in Ireland and abroad. Her first book of poetry Take This Life was published by WordOnTheStreet in 2011 and her second collection Tides Shifting Across My Sitting Room Floor will be published by Salmon Poetry in Spring 2017. She has performed her work at Lingo, Electric Picnic, Blackwater & Cúirt Literary Festival. Anne is co-founder of the Dublin Writers’ Forum.   “The World Reduced to Sound” by Anne Tannam   Lying in my single bed a childhood illness for company the world reduced to sound.   Behind my eyes the darkness echoed inside my chest uneven notes rattled and wheezed. Beyond my room a floorboard creaked a muffled cough across the landing grew faint and faded away   My hot ear pressed against the pillow tuned into the gallop of tiny hooves then blessed sleepy silence. In the morning steady maternal footsteps sang on the stairs. I loved that song.   The World Reduced to a Sound is © Anne …

“Pillars” and other poems by Alice Kinsella

Sea walk.   A grey day Bitter winter Biting wind And there was us   We got our shoes Wet and our toes Wrinkled In our socks   The sand clumped Our fingers curled And I tasted salt Coating your lips   Goose bumps rose On our arms And the hairs stood stiff Like tiny white flags   The air licked wet We bundled coats tighter And your fingertips put Bruises on my skin   You said we’d come back When the weather Turned And Wade barefoot.   The weather turned all right. But we never did, Did we?   Tea Leaves   Amongst the ghosts Of coffee dates Gone by Two old friends met to share a brew and some moments. They sat on rickety chairs out of doors in sticky rain. Shredded tobacco with shaking hands Into thin bent rollies And tugged on them to fill their mouths with anything but words. Coffee for her and a green tea for him A long repeated order a rehearsal of a memory And do you …