Irish Poetry

A long-boned boy gliding in rain beneath the rise or fall, any weather in the city he'd sometimes sight rolling in at the river bend, cl...

Sinead Lohan, singing Bob Dylan's To Romona.

You read strangely wound letters in the noble dead silence of a deep dumb worth we wrote in pulsations of faith and flash'd doubts dwell...

. in the nemetons of cyberville, where various Mystery rites of the very many Mysteries celebrating life, are practiced by lovers of wisdom ...

The original alphabet, which Graves concocts his ultimately highly flawed sprawling White Goddess tome with; is called Ogam. It is named a...

Parisa is a blog buddy whose enthusiasm for the Mossbawn magus, seamus Heaney, i share as he is simply the best around, in person and print....

Nollaig shona duit. For next year. For this, happy St Stephen's Day. I hope you had an enjoyable dinner on the big day, and i want to sa...

I met her three weeks ago in Delaney's in town. It was Friday night. She was with her sister. I'd just pulled a nice little number w...

Feels like i'm fighting tyson, yeah he heeh, wo ho whay. Only in the sink of doings that is doorty dub can one such as i remain unmolest...

Follow me down to a rock far away, far rock away, golden bard singing in strings loaded with karma, naming the street an ocean of lovers and...

ANN AT BRIL ERIU Why picture loutish eton craic a fab lush brogue patriotic anoraks, and pride deserting gentlemen at war in eccentric sighs...

They live in the lamplight of dusk riven shade, releasing souls from the stone of dolmen beds Diarmuid and Gráinne stretched out on when fle...

Strong is the power of ones light. The spiritual armour of goodness Resisting rulers' wicked wiles And the cult of men in darkness. With...

I recently read a book on Yeats. The Yeats We Knew, which are the texts of five Thomas Davis Lectures, first broadcast on RTE in 1965, as pa...

Someone asked what had happened to Peter Hitchens, the man who advocates genoicide for muslims, brother to Christopher the Daily Mail fascis...

Eye the chasm of a heart. refuse to look past a pool, cloud drawing love to force a tide of will. Storms of white horse water whip the dawn ...

Angel is a person online who is a regular voice in my head and i learnt today s/he smashed up the telly: "I wouldn't advise anyone...

1979-1983 were my secondary days, from childhood to ones youthful coming of age in a time, just like todays. The kids, as they are now. Some...

I suppose if prose is the light ale of writing, poetry would be the heavy proof gear, which most writers would agree is the creme de la crem...

Dear Diary. Another sunny day saving Tara. Cycled up the coast to Howth in the morning and then back to the homeless canteen for lunch. A sm...