Poem: ‘Fothering the Sheep’
Fothering the sheep Only minus seven this morning but the gate latches are frozen solid.…
Browsing: Culture
Poem: There is a Panther on the Streets of Paris
There is a Panther on the Streets of Paris slinging hammocks of intent between each…
Contemporary Turkish Poetry Considered
Review: Fog Bells: 8 Contemporary Turkish Poets (Dedalus Press, 2025) “A writer’s life”, the poet…
Poem: Luke 2:1-7
Luke 2:1-7 _ It was the time Augustus Caesar had cried…
Musician of the Month: Nyah Faie
My first memory of music is of being very young, maybe three years old, held…
Poem: ‘External Return’
Eternal Return My sixteen year old daughter comes to me to complain about Patrick Kavanagh.…
Fiction: The Cliff
“It’s been two days. We gotta to do something. It’s gonna go rotten.” “I…
Poem: ‘What comes to mind in Ireland’
What comes to mind in Ireland What is black? An absence of light, the cassocks…
Musician of the Month: Ciara O’Donnell
Ciara O’Donnell is an artist performing under the name of Domhan. She creates music inspired…
Theocracy – the Emigrant’s Artist
Sé Merry Doyle’s latest documentary, Theocracy – the Emigrant’s Artist, serves as an excellent introduction…
Poem: Vitruvian Woman
Vitruvian Woman For Laura A Poem for Halloween Svelte limbs, aquiline and flow, her…
Musician of the Month: Cory Seznec
It’s always been a challenge to compress my life into tidy, coherent narratives full of…
Grandmothers’ Fight for Stolen Generation
Review: A Flower Travelled in my Blood: The Incredible Story of the Grandmothers who Fought…
The Ghost in the Garrick
Richard Midwinter arrived early at the Garrick and on entering the theatre was struck by…
Diabolical Healers
Intriguingly, women held more or less equal power in many of the African continent’s varied…
Poem: September is Here
September is Here and I want to feel the tingle of autumn over the horizon.…
Poem: The Revolutionary
The Revolutionary Andrée Blouin, 1921-1986 A hungry child can never truly sleep. In the orphanage…
How Bono Nearly Ruined My Life
Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by…
Poem: Maldon days
Maldon days hēt þā hyssa hwæne hors forlǣtan, feorr āfȳsan, and forð gangan,…
JACK GILBERT WAS TOO HORNY TO BE A METAPHYSICAL POET
JACK GILBERT WAS TOO HORNY TO BE A METAPHYSICAL POET not that sex and metaphysics…