Poets at the Beach
by Eileen Sheehan i.m Maurice J. Reidy, poet No matter what we write, our rivers will insist on flowing downhill; sand will infiltrate our
and he kisses you
by Eileen Sheehan he kisses you tastes your loneliness sings you a song both beautiful and sad he kisses you tastes salt on your tongue thinks he
The routes of loss are varied
by Janice Fitzpatrick-Simmons there is one, it seems to me a narrow mountain track with roiling grey clouds full of fears and rushing wind. I
Easter Rising
by Janice Fitzpatrick-Simmons I lived inside a Shakespearian winter; malcontent, agreeing to a poverty of the soul. And thus agreed, what
Gather In
by Susan Lindsay where the great oak tree has its roots — between them eroded soil affords shelter, the trunk sturdy behind our backs,
John
by Noel Duffy A memory of rain, of our taxi travelling through deserted streets at dawn, the headlights searching out the road ahead of us as we