Who would you burn as an effigy and why? The question was posed at a writing workshop I attended the other day and we were supposed to use it as a prompt. I suppose it was meant in a light-hearted way, after all, that evening was bonfire night. I told them wouldn’t burn any effigy. … Continue reading Burning Effigies
St. Patrick’s Day came early for me when I attended a Scottish-Irish poetry event during the week. One of the poets was a young Dubliner called Stephen James Smith. Without reference to paper or book, he delivered a long, lyrical, swiftly paced poem called, ‘Dublin You Are.’ He captured us. It was a love poem … Continue reading Ireland, My Ireland
Twenty years ago, about this time of year, I was sitting on the second floor of a fire escape on the gable end of a large red-bricked terrace in South Belfast. As usual, S. was with me; we shared the flat, and were making plans for a joint birthday party later in the autumn. It … Continue reading Black Mountain
I’m back across for a few days. Back in Northern Ireland, the province, the North, Ulster, the six counties – whatever it is you call it. For, remember, whatever name you chose to attach to this place can be loaded with meaning and interpretation - over here, anyway. But I’m beginning to think all of … Continue reading An Alternative Ulster
My Edinburgh Press 