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ONLINE BOOKSTORE FEATURED TITLES

 

Best of Irish Poetry 2009
Best of Irish Poetry 2010

Editor: Matthew Sweeney

 

 

Songs of Earth and Light

Songs of Earth and Light
Barbara Korun poems translated by Theo Dorgan

 

 

Done Dating DJs
Done Dating DJs
by Jennifer Minniti-Shippey
Winner, 2008 Fool for Poetry Competition

 

 

Richesses

Richesses: Francophone Songwriter Poets
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ANN EGAN

 

 

 

ann egan
Ann Egan, a multi-award winning poet, has held many residencies in counties, hospitals, schools, secure residencies and prisons. Her books are: Landing the Sea (Bradshaw Books); The Wren Women (Black Mountain Press); Brigit of Kildare (Kildare Library and Arts Services); and her latest is 2012’s Telling Time (Bradshaw Books). She has edited more than twenty books including The Midlands Arts and Culture Review (2010). She lives in County Kildare.


 

 

 

 

 

 

Porridge

 

 

If I have memories of porridge,

what are they? Can I recall them?

It is a summer’s evening.

Dust flies busily about,

 

lays an unwanted sheet

on wildflowers in the ditch.

Leaves are well powdered,

like laughing ladies going to

 

dance the hall’s mysteries.

Summer has been long, heavy.

Well water is all dried up.

My brother drives the tractor,

 

I perch on the trailer’s back,

like a  returned swallow on wire.

We go to the river, soon a portable

pump is throttled into being.

 

It belts out pipe music in gushes

of notes into the barrel,

they hit the iron base like raindrops

pelting time on the hayshed.

 

Pace is set with precision

of first dance and ladies dwell

in beauty’s camouflage all evening.

Unlike leaves besmirched in dust

 

that hide and curl into the bank,

they waltz, have a mineral, keep

in groups on their side of the hall.               

Barrell’s song rises in comfort,

 

water sits on the halfway mark.

Music quickens now, rhythm set,

women and men dance, and swirl,

floorboards sway with thrills.

 

Last dance is called, water reaches

the top, my brother places

a forked stick to settle the surface.

The dancers part in patterns

 

conferred by chance or charm.

Guided by moats of dusk,

music pounding in blood’s flow,

they leave in laden cars of chat,

 

cycle silhouettes, or stroll the slow mile.

We have our barrel’s fill.

My brother drives to The Moor,  

fills the cattle trough with magic.

 

Evening stars fold light,

dancers tell their stories.

Hungry as wearied waltzers

we settle in customary places

 

around the old kitchen table,

our chat all about the pump’s power,

twigs and puzzles of gravity.

Before each of us our mother

 

places a bowl of porridge,

steams its story, surface unbroken,

golden as river shadows when

the pump ceased throttling.

 

We shake silvered sugar on

the top, see crystals disappear.

We grasp the jug’s homely handle,                  

pour milk, heavy in clotted cream,

 

across the feast, blessings of fields.

Rapt in communal silence,

we spoon our first mouthful.

 

 

 

©2014 Ann Egan

 

Author Links

 

Telling Time: Ann Egan at Bradshaw Books

Landing the Sea: Ann Egan at Bradshaw Books

Four poems by Ann Egan in Senior Times

 

 

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