if it's Tuesday, this must be the Internet?
Harsh Expletive! It’s been a Hell of a few weeks. Good Hell mostly, I guess. But some suspicously tart, gritty bits that may have been Bad Hell mixed in there too. Hence lack of posts. Hello. Good to be back!
Highlight of my absence was a trip to London with herself and the eldest offspring. Taking in Rothko, Meireles (soooo good!), Frieze Art Fair, Bacon and the Turner Prize exhibits was an uncommon treat, as we spend most of our days rooted (routed?) to the various local grooves of work, school, family in this here parish of the auld sod. No Celtic Tiger pondhoppers we. Bizarrely, we’ve travelled more since the poor creature started sneezing and looking decidedly dizzy than at any time while the nation soared on the hot air of its carnivore breath. Good! I like a slice of contrary every now and then. Here’s a toast to all the financial guano that’s been sprayed fanwards over the last while – may it nourish the roots of a whole new perspective. As if! But we can live in hope, can’t we? Yes we can.
A few things then, just to catch up;
Boyne Berries 4 was launched in Trim, Co Meath recently. A fine selection of work includes one of my own poems, Evening Recital. Personal favourites include Accident, by Mary Rose Callan, Bayardelle, Scent of the Faculty, by Landa Wo, and Good Friday Planting by Shirley McClure (which you can read here).
Brian Friel's version of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, continues its run at The Gate. Check out my review (of sorts) over at the Evening Herald’s HQ magazine.
Also, the second annual Poem-a-Day challenge is in full swing over on the forum at Poetry Ireland’s website throughout November. Why not pop over and join the outpouring of poesy? Last year, the challenge of writing and posting a poem every 24 hours did wonders for beating the crap out of my inner censor/slash/editor, who has since moved to Alaska in search of a new client, who needs the ermmm....restraint..
Finally, it’s wintertime (or daylight savings time, depending where you’re reading this). That came quickly! So here’s a poem to mark the glooming;
Grey days are here again
I dress in the half-light
Discovering at lunch
That I’m wearing odd socks
Still, the day’s half gone
And no harm done
I’ll relish each further step
Secretly out of kilter
© PJ Nolan 2008