Friday 7 December 2007


Written in 1989 Published in 1992, this is one of my favourites from that period - a genuine sense of gratitude to voices that came before me. It is also a genuine snapshot of the arrogance of youth, comparing oneself without guile or self consciousness. The older, humbler poet is amused.
It's also a reaction to the insistence of tutors that all creativity is inevitably limited by
culture and place - I argued for the transcendence of verse, rooted in cultural context.


I am the Child of
Plath and Ogawa
but only by adoption

My life is the result
of my struggle
and I have no cultural parents

Alta my mentor
sings my digust to
the stars

I am the child, but
I am learning to sing
for myself

Thank you mothers
but forgive me
If I never use one word you have taught me.

Geraldine Moorkens Byrne


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