SPEAKERS’ CORNER

Writing by our Contributors

Daniele Serafini

Poems by Italian poet Daniele Serafini

Return to Campoformido to my father Tullio, aviator Returning to Campoformido it is as if your photo (the one in your flying jacket Your comrades close by & your face unguarded to the future) had never been taken. Returning to Campoformido it was as if, unexpectedly, you stepped from the family album to retrieve, this […]

Anton Floyd at Skibbereen Speakeasy

Six poems by multiple award winner Anton Floyd

At Lough Allua You dipped gently your hand into the lake to test the colour of the lapping water. It was the purest blue an intense ultramarine as if time had processed the world’s store of lapis and had lavished this gift this mesmerising pigment remaking this place as all encompassing as the frescoes adorning […]

padraig belton story slam

Padraig Belton introduces the Story Slam 2019

I am a journalist, and here to report that the art of storytelling is alive and thriving in West Cork.  As a reporter I am a paid storyteller, some of them, hopefully, true. We are all storytellers, in this country—telling stories, some of them true. With a charming inattention to mere facts and an unfailing […]

Riding Against the Lizard by William Wall

ON THE NEED FOR ANGER NOW ‘Anger is the political sentiment par excellence. It brings out the qualities of the inadmissible, the intolerable. It is a refusal and a resistance that with one step goes beyond all that can be accomplished reasonably in order to open possible paths for a new negotiation of the reasonable […]

JOHN COTTON POET (Read by Bev Cotton)

  JOHN COTTON 1925-2003 POET (Read by Bev Cotton) Obituary, The Guardian, April 2003 From “Here’s Looking At You Kid” Headland, 1992 CHERNOBYL At night the darkening maze of branches Threatens as the forest broods They heard it fidget, breathe And tried to estimate its moods Read omens as the ghost-owl mothed Its way across […]

Bonny Braeside – Letters from my Father

“Every dark cloud is having its backside warmed by the sun” ‘Come up and see my etchings,’ he said. It was 1963 and the young man was an assistant where I was staying at the Derwentwater Youth Hostel. And there were etchings! Replying to my letter home dad wrote that he would have viewed such […]

Any Day Now by Miriam O’Donovan

Any Day Now Yesterday, for instance, I spoke to my daughter from my hospital bed. It was a happy phone call, we ebbed and flowed as we have done since she was conceived. Today, in a coma, assisted at points of ingress and egress, from me according to my ability, to me according to my […]