Pomegranate: A poem in honour of the launch of the Pomegranate Charity tonight

Today is National Infertility Day and it coincides with the launch of the wonderful charity Pomegranate . Pomegranate raises funds for those who cannot afford expensive infertility treatment but who yearn for a child; and it also raises awareness of the issues surrounding infertility.
Without SIMS Clinic we would not have been able to have our beloved son. The idea that others are denied the services of such clinics, because of the expense, is tragic. We were extremely fortunate. If you do nothing else today read the Pomegranate website, and donate - no matter how small an amount, you will be helping end the pain of infertility for some future parent. (I have no connection with Pomegranate other than thinking they're a great cause.)

Pomegranate's launch is tonight at 7pm in the Russell Court Hotel (Dicey Reilly’s) on Harcourt Street, Dublin 2. Guest speakers will be Conor Pope of the Irish Times and Steve McGettigan of the Sims clinic.

Pomegranate

When they talk of it

It is assumed, only the fecund know

Where the heart lies

When it comes to babies,

When it comes to birth,

When it comes to dreams

Of sticky hands and kisses.

Oh no, no, we the Barren,

We too understand these joys.

We yearn for them in ways

Only we can understand

We are steeped in the mysteries of pain.

Oh but your words can sting us

Anything stirring? No news for us?

Sure would you not relax?

My sister’s neighbour’s cousin’s friend

Got pregnant using the scapula of some saint

 you probably should have tried when you were younger –

I’d never go to those lengths

Ah we know the heart of it all right

We hold their little hands and kiss their brows

A thousand times in our dreams

And the sweet drug of hope

Lulls us into the arms of sleep

Dark night, after night.

 .

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It Was At Tara

It was at Tara

that my love did stand

sword in hand

hand on heart

and gave me his pledge

It was at Tara 

that my son did stand

in front of clan

in the face of tradition

and was given his name.

It was the same Tara

that once took my pain.

 Beneath sweeping skies

 and in the teeth of rain 

Tara gave me peace again. 

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Phoenix

First published as part of a calendar in 1993 to celebrate the reopening of the Music shop in Stephen's Street (Charles Byrne Musik Instrumente, est 1870)

Phoenix

As each note trembles
rises, quivers, dies,
so seasons turn -
and after sunrise, dusk and night
as bright to dark
as year will follow year
and out of Winter's dark embrace
comes earth in all its Summer's grace;
as out of one man's lonely hours
a cathedral built of Music towers
and from the pile of broken quills
a poetess her stanza spills;
as out of childhood's broken dreams
the adult learns what freedom means -
in every night, one evening star
so travellers see home from afar
and from their errors men grow wise
as from the ashes, Phoenix rise.

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Bród, a poem.... #bródclub #Irish

RTE have a great initiative going at the moment thanks to Bernard Dunne


http://www.rte.ie/brodclub/


The idea is to get 100,00 Irish people who like me, have some Irish but rarely use it, to start using it again. Dig it out, root through your memory and sprinkle a cúpla focail through your conversations and texts and facebook status updates throughout the day.


I can read Irish fairly well but my spoken Irish is horribly rusty and my grammar was non existent (thanks, school!) til I did a Gael Linn course a few years ago. I still have terrible grammar but thanks to the excellent course I now know what I should be doing to re-learn the rotten Irish we were taught in school and make it better. I kept telling myself that all I need is the time, but you know what? I'll never have the time. So I am taking up the Bród challenge, not putting it off any longer and trying to reawaken then Irish I have and hopefully make it better as I go.

This inspired the poem below. My readers know that many of the forms and structures of my poems come from the Irish, from poems and poetry half remembered, and poetic forms that intrigued me far more than their English counterparts. So I owe a debt of gratitude to my langauge.





Bród



I searched through the foclóir of my life
Looking for my roots, mo Teach, mo Tuath is mo Tir
And found some little treasures I’d forgotten
Little seoda
buried here and there.
I found my bród hidden under layers
Of fear, of criticism and of failure.
I found mo grá in sound and form that flowed.
And in the words of poets long departed,
Found mo teanga náisiúnta
– still great and open-hearted.

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This is Not a Valentine

This is not a Valentine
for a start it's two days late
and will not rhyme.
This is not a paean to one day
to flowers or cards (ours unexchanged,
unwritten, stolen and returned)
I say again, this is not a Valentine.

This is not a Valentine;
it is a hymn to mundane days,
days without titles and nights
without expectations; when a weary
hand stirs a bottle, takes a turn,
loads a wash, puts on dinner.
No, this cannot be a Valentine.

This is not a Valentine.
No flowery verse would stoop
to describe the loving act of hoovering
or the romantic gesture of sweeping.
No flowers are delivered, when a cup of tea
is made and handed over with a kiss.
No, No Valentine is this.

This is not a Valentine.
They'll never teach this poem in school,
this ode to daily love. A kind word,
a compliment unearned, a gentle touch.
The heroic act of doing more than your share;
to quietly care. Ah no, this is no Valentine.
It is a poem of love.

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On swings

I saw my son fall in love today
with swings
in a city playground
in the town I love.
Up til now, their charms
had left him cold;
this afternoon I saw an alchemy
of joy
A boy, a swing, the evening sun
cold air on cheek and childish fun
head - tilted back
and eyes half closed
legs reaching foward, arms straining
and
as the arc died
from glorious heights
to gentle rocking
one word;
more!

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PPP Publishing - IN and OUT by Inga Brigitta

Exciting news! Calling all poetry lovers, Inga Brigitta's collection In and Out is almost ready for release! Details of how to order will be posted on http://www.ppppublishing.com - it will retail at £8.95 plus postage from cafepress, or will be available in Ireland from PPP Publishing, and direct from the poet herself in the UK.
This is the ideal xmas gift for poetry lovers, or just for yourself.

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In Dublin, on an Autumn Day

Written this morning in the Stephen's Green as my one year old slept happily in his Bugaboo, all wrapped up against the Autumn bite. There is nowhere quite as pleasant as the Green on a quiet Autumnal morning.



In Dublin, it is a treat
to find a seat in the Stephen's
Green
Near the fountains
on Constance's Side
Where if you sit quiet and still
On an Autumn Morning
Chill in the air, and Leaves falling
A robin might appear
at your feet
Under the seat, where careless
Tourists
Spill crumbs from O'Briens
And you watch the punks and goths
flock
Followed by the suits and shoppers
And a park keeper passes
And nods, hello, the ducks in the pond
Rising.

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My piece "legacy; these acts make you immortal" on the Balanced Witch Blog

http://thebalancedwitch.com/family/legacy-these-acts-make-you-immortal/

Delighted to contribute a piece to The Balanced Witch blog - this is my piece on motherhood and the spiritual journey. Read and comment, and support a lovely blog/site.

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The Balanced Witch Blog; my piece "legacy"

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For Ronan Mac Aongusa, Transparent years (a poem of UCD)

For Ronan, for 25 years.



Transparent Years

25 years ago
On the concourse of UCD
Or hanging in the students union
We were arrogant and lost
In impossible measures

Transparent in our voices
Ideals worn with cynical pride
Titling at dragons and chasing dreams
Angst and alcohol, side by side

25 years ago,
you became a sentinel in my life
prompting me when I stumbled
one of the foundations
of who I am.

We have both made our journeys
In miles, in thought, in dream or deed
Each one ending in our reunion
Friendship it seems, is our only need.

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In Search of a Lost Girl

Inspired by Immrama, and the bringing of meditation and journeying techniques into modern life

In search of a lost girl

The summer of my youth was spent
In smoky pubs; making rain
While the sun shone.
On and on, I traversed the lines
And wasted time like golden coin.

How to glimpse again the vanished day?
Travel through the shades and speak
To my younger, lost self? And take
her by the hand and reinvent
the landscape of my past.

I have lit incense to the god of time
And sweated out the years
I have shed tears and offered wine
And burnt meat. They will not treat
With me, and silently disdain.

I will return to the ways of my mothers,
And sail into the western seas,
Mannanán will guide me to Hy-Brasil
And I will alight at the sacred Isles
Where all answers lie, hidden.

Among the old, I will walk with ease.
It will please me to hear the old words
And sing the old songs, among the trees.
I will make a harp of my sorrows and dance
And woo time with my lips.

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Wilderness

This is an old one; I found it recently online and thought, well if it's on other sites it should get a place on my own blog...I have mixed feelings about it, it is a poem written about the claims of old friends who are no longer friends. It was written for someone I knew in my teens and twenties, a very different place in my life.


Wilderness

We were lost for a while, despite maps
You looked into the distance and called
and your voice returned multifold.
I had told you that there was an echo but
you wouldn't believe an old friend;
I am hurt that you had no faith
and in the end we are what we believe.

The trek to the summit was hard
and I longed to be back in the valleys;
I wouldn't say so to you,
and you knew I was being forbearing
how deeply you hate me, my old friend.

I am submerged in the cool lake, swimming
and the sound of your voice is muffled;
I am free of the claims of the past, even
as you climb into my present.

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Robert Lee Brewer "Escape" (Second Volume of Poetry) Preoder!

Just ordered a new book of poetry from Robert Lee Brewer, the second of his collections. "Escape" should be good, if it's half as good as "Enter" I'll be happy. Anyone looking for a good book of modern poetry, check out his blog (click on the title above) or twitter @robertleebrewer. It's only $10 plus postage. Enter was an excellent, well selected, cohesive collection and a thoroughly enjoyable read.

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Fame at Last...Charlie on Italian TV this summer

Well Charlie himself will be interviewed on Italian TV soon; he's no stranger to print and radio interviews although this may be his first TV one. Some favourite interviews over the years have included one he did for the students in Rathmines College of Commerce, a radio documentary for Lyric FM on buying a first violin and a wonderful print interview (later part of a book) by Rose DOyle for the Irish Times.

We are looking forward now to seeing what the Italian interview is like and what they are looking for! Details will be shared as we find them out.

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Doctors in Bahrain: Update

There is an excellent segment on the Joe Duffy LIVELINE show on RTE radio one (today Thursday 23rd June 2011)about the Doctors and medics being held, tortured and falsely accused in Bahrain.
You can listen to the podcast if you miss the show: just visit rte.ie and look for Liveline and then for Thursday 23rd June show. If I have time I will post a direct link later.http://www.rte.ie/radio1/liveline/

The plight of these poor medics has to be brought to the attention of the world. many were trained in the Royal College of Surgeons Ireland and all are innocent of terrible charges. It is a tragedy and the RCSI refuses to help them, for financial reasons. Overseas Students are a lucrative business for them.
Please listen, and if you can join in the campaign to help them. Doctors especially are needed to sign petitions and force the RSCI to act.
Let's make a difference. Retweet this, facebook it, write to the newspapers, write to the Bahrainian Embassy London

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Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley: Oppress Stonehenge's Neo-Pagan Hippies: Guardian

Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley: Oppress Stonehenge's Neo-Pagan Hippies: Guardian

This is an excellent blog post from
"Archdruid" Eileen - while I personally hold no brief for the modern "Druid" and some of the antics surrounding sacred sites by the tree hugging hippy neo-Druidic movement I think this sums up why we all have to make room for other people's beliefs and practices.
Well written and well argued.

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Pagan Writers Community

Anyone who writes with an eye to alternative spirituality should check out Pagan Writer's Community on Facebook and also the new website on http://grou.ps/paganwriterscommunity/

An excellent resource for esoteric writings, pagan poetry and fiction and to connect and interact with other writers.

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Listowel Writers Week June 1st-5th 2011

Listowel Writers Week start June 1st and runs to June 5th inclusive; it boasts a great programme of events and lots of variety - theatre, poetry, novels - with readings from great authors including Neil Jordan. Ronan Wilson and more!

check out http://writersweek.ie/ and consider a different Bank Holiday Weekend !

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