Cobh R&W Daily Prompt II So here is this mornings effort, another #micropoem. Guard of Nature.Quack, spake the Mandarin,And the kindhearted rustled,The paper bag to pull scraps,And crumbs of poppyseeded bread,To share on the tended bank,Of the shapely pond,A guard of nature,Adding each gentle act,As they pause and ponder,To the universes store of karmic credit.... Continue Reading →
In an effort to keep up morale and have some craic via our Cobh Readers and Writers group pages, I created a daily writing prompt post. Just for some fun and engagement with the group and festival followers for the period of the COVID-19 crisis. So the handy random word generator from the internet gave... Continue Reading →
Finding None If you put to sea in these boats,most likely you will die,you will never make Italy,you will barely make the news,unless you wash ashore on a tourist beach,spoiling the panorama,with inconvenient truths. The rising tide of the right,creeping into the edges of Europa,still like to wear good looking suits,whipping up headlines,serves them for... Continue Reading →
Pulpit Musketry. People’s charity was only meant to stretch,To putting a penny into a ceramic head,Brown people turning up on the doorstepWasn't ever part of the deal. We brought them sanitationFor accepting subjugation,Ornamentation for the gallowsTo reward rebellion. Grateful fawning over infested blanketsWas the only response necessary,Decades of the rosary ensuring resurrection,The power of the... Continue Reading →
The Master's Dog Guilty looks from left to right, Glancing over sunken shoulders, Ensuring fitting purity for the words: "Filthy black bastard", It rolls out of yellowed mouth, Hits the deck like a seagull's shit, Always seeking their approval,Like a dog aching for the Master's hand, Such a common thing, Delivered with the snigger swagger,... Continue Reading →
I have the privilege of being the PRO for Cobh Readers and Writers Festival. Each year they run a four day Festival in Cobh, the most beautiful seaside town in Ireland. This years festival runs from the 23rd to the 26th of April. The all volunteer committee do huge work each year to deliver the... Continue Reading →
Toll. Bright tolls that hideous bell, varnished edges biting at the collarbone, unprotected by the cheap white shirt, damp from the last wearing of the cassock, burning incense from the dark interior, lacquer from the brass handles, cloying and heavy in the heat, last night’s fighting as raw, as the nervous marks on my left... Continue Reading →
The 7th Annual Winter Warmer weekend has already begun and I am really looking forward to reading in the closed mike session at Kino, Washington St., Cork tomorrow from 2pm. Thanks to the wonderful Ó Bhéal: Cork Poetry Events and its tireless Director and outstanding poet Paul Casey for the invitation to be part of... Continue Reading →
A letter for Amina on it's way to Armagh Robinson Library (@ArmRLib) to hopefully take part in #fillingthevoid with Maria McManus (@maria_mcmanus) & co. Another fantastic and innovative project, which it is a real pleasure to have the opportunity to take part in. https://mariamcmanus.wordpress.com/2019/10/30/write-us-a-letter-filling-the-void/ As Maria outlines on her page: 'Through this project, we want... Continue Reading →
Nomad. Dancing in the shade of a warship, miles from anywhere, a weary little nomad, alighting to take refuge on the dark grey timber, worn out and staggering, Rest, be at peace, staring fascinated, remembering in the haze of this beautiful dusk, past summers spent at home, Lying in the rough grass, lost in the... Continue Reading →
Hate.
Torch light flickers over university grass,where imposing bronzes are as hollow as their deliberate message,rewriting history and celebrating ignorance,demonising orange pickers and glorifying slavers.
Valletta.Sun burns down on city streets,bringing in the light, beauty,in the shadows, mystery,lost in ancient rows of homes and steps,cracked flagstones balanced one upon the other,or rooted into living rock,tight alleyways frame views of a wave tossed harbour,an artist might go blind from the wonders,or mad from the ceaseless wind.
Paper Never Refused Ink! 
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