Aisling (competition poem)

To read the poem from the John Murray poetry competition, check out HERE

To listen to it being read by Pat Boran, and hear the other excellent entries and the winners check out HERE (the poetry competition is 6th down the page)

Many thanks to everyone who emailed or twittered how much they enjoyed the poem and thanks for all the extremely kind comments. I think you'll really enjoy the standard of poems read out on air; from junior level upwards the winners are so impressive. Please listen and let the show know how much you enjoyed the poetry competition. Poetry needs your support. Don't forget to twitter using the hash key #writingcommunity

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Twitter Fragment January 2010

i
Girl on city street, heels clicking
shiny hair, gleaming lips
eyes glinting in the smokey light
siren song in her stride

ii
Boy on corner smoking
haloed under streetlight's glow
watches the lilt of a girl's walk
breathes her in like air
forgets to exhale

iii
Cold grey sky can lie
the tell tale signs
one green shoot, rooted in dark soil
one new blade turned toward a wintry sun
Bridget comes

iv
hope - uncertain friend
promising much yet in the end
what happens next, all depends
on things Hope can't control

v
Dark rain, vanquishing spirit
overpowers the pristine cloak of snow
revealing colours, angles, edges

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Twitter Fragments II

Twitter Fragments II

Or
how I feel on certain days....

i
The city moves, a slow grumbling yawn
shoppers drifting in lazy knots
high heels and blowdried hair
rituals of consumer glee

ii
Dublin awash with
post Arthurian hangovers;
spotted - more than one walking wounded
with Guinness pallor.
People with very shaky hands.

iii
Autumn encroaches on the last days of Summer
Fat old woman, ripe in gaudy colour
pushing aside the frail and ailing belle

iv
September sun
the cool balm of Indian summer
across the city like a gentle hand
a gift before ripe Autumn falls

v
Dublin is grey today windswept & autumnal
back to school blues & sad little doldrums
the first fallen leaves lie forlorn on the pavement

vi
Early Sat evening in Dublin;
the everday life of the city
abandoned for the tinsel glamour of its night life.
Mad, wild, woolly...

vii
hard seat, numbing both body and mind
I find myself dreaming of another future
reaching out for things no longer real

viii
Light steals darkness from my room
gentle thief, fracturing dreams
emptying memories to lay bare jewels of time

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Twitter Fragments

I'm doing a thing on twitter where we post a small poem (under 140 characters) Some people do haiku, but I tend towards fragmentary three line verse
twitter @gercelt

also check out @twitlaureate, or search #poetry for more on poetry on twitter

Twitter Fragments


i
Silent house, paused between sleep and wake
and I the ghost, that passes in that space
part guardian, part spectre at the feast.


ii
Cold morning grey competes with duvet warmth
sounds of stirring city siren-calling me to work
summer, in the town beside the sea

iii
Dublin is back in the bosom of winter,
grey skies reflected in slick pavement puddles,
grimly chilled by driving rain

iv
Dead weight of afternoon, pressing down,
keeping me at my desk
oh for the freedom that came with summers past!

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