My poem Admission, On Leaving The Port Of Belfast, 1988 will appear in the Places of Poetry Anthology on National Poetry Day, 1st October. There were more than 7,500 entries.
Tracy Gaughan selects poetry from established and emerging writers from Ireland and the UK.
One of the poems is from the book I’m currently writing on Place and Displacement.
Tracy comments: ‘Angela Graham’s imaginative eloquence of language embodies an ‘at-homeness’ in both the universal and the particular’.
Abhaile is a great means of sampling work from a range of poets. I found among them Hugh McMillan and Caroline Johnson. I’ll give them a wave over there in Scotland. I’m looking forward to my time off next week when I can read everyone’s work.
On May 26th Letters With Wings ran an online poetry reading to raise funds to send letters to unjustly imprisoned artists and writers.
Raising funds to ensure the letters are sent: Click to contribute
Poets taking part: Celia de Fréine, Catherine Dunne, Lia Mills, Bernadette Gallagher, Moyra Donaldson, Deirdre Cartmill , Denis Stokes, Therese Kieran, Rafael Mendes, Polina Cosgrave, Chandrika Narayanan-Mohan, Alessandra Trevisan, Natasha Remoundou, Aisling Walsh, Gráinne Tobin, Simone Theiss , Cornelia Rohr and myself.
Toi, enfant rebelleenfant indomptable, irréductible !toi, enfantsi ton dessein est d’avorter mon rêveen aucun casje ne ferais retour de mes songes, jamais
Livia De Stefani (1913 – 1991)
In this recording, Nandi Jola reads my translation of Notturno n. 4 for the Le Ortique project, a group of women authors committed to discovering forgotten women artists.
For more of De Stefani’s poems, see:
An online event on 7th July 6.30 – 8.30pm invites contributions of work by female artists whose work deserves greater recognition Le Ortique Open Mic
I am very much enjoying my encounter with the work of this passionate, uncompromising poet, Livia De Stefani.
Notturno n. 4
Non morirò. Vivo ancora. Ancora di te
del tuo profondo sonno fra le braccia dell’altra.
Ti odio. Nell’odio io incendio foreste
più fonde di quelle d’amore.
Al lume di fiamme vermiglie m’inoltro
nel fuoco vestita dei miei capelli.
Voluttà rinnovate, interminabili saziano
le affamate notti, alzano maree
fra le sponde dei giorni.
Non muoio. T’inseguo ti trovo ti schiaccio
e mi succhio il tuo sangue e lo sputo.
È amaro il tuo sangue, dà sete, dà sete.
Die – I will not. I live on still. Still on you
On your deep sleep in the arms of that other woman.
I loathe you. In loathing I set ablaze forests
deeper than those of love.
By the gleam of vermilion flames I give myself
to the fire wearing only my hair.
Endless voluptuous pleasures, tasted again, again, sate
the famished nights, flood tides
between the shores of the days.
Dying – I am not. You – I follow you find you crush you
Suck up your blood – spit it out.
Bitter, your blood – makes me thirst, thirst.
translated by © Angela Graham
podcast version by © Nandi Jola (South African born poet and writer based in Ireland) .
For a discussion of Livia De Stefani’s poetry:
I haven’t got a picture of a grey hen so I’ve headed this post with a shot of my favourite cocktail bar, Ora, in Berlin. Continue reading 2nd Prize Grey Hen Press Poetry Competition 2020
I’m delighted to have 2 poems in the new anthology: ‘North Star: short stories and poetry by female Northern Irish writers’ released on 4th June 2020.
With 45 contributors, the book’s six sections reflect the counties of Northern Ireland. It is currently number 1 in new and hot releases coming soon on Amazon within anthologies and number 5 in Women’s short stories out of 1,000 titles listed in that genre.
In the Tyrone section is my poem ‘Ballycastle Granny: her husband, Thomas Graham of Gortin’. This won Joint 3rd Prize in the Almost Dancing Poetry Competition and Heather Newcombe Award 2019 organised by Ballycastle Writers’ Group.
My grandfather lived in Gortin where he worked with his brother, John Graham in their saddlery business. John’s his wife, Letitia ran the Post Office.
My poem in the Antrim section is ‘The Scottish Referendum: A View from Carraig Uisneach’. This is set on Ballycastle Beach. It’s about the relationship between this north-eastern area of Ireland with Scotland.
This anthology is unique among collections by Northern Irish women in its dynamically wide embrace of writing talent.
Conceived and produced during lockdown, the North Star anthology comes from women’s writing collective, Women Aloud NI.
Chairwoman, Angeline King Kelly, whose idea it was, says: “The submission process for North Star was open to WANI’s 165 members, without selection. Every woman has a story to tell. Many of the most fascinating stories from Northern Ireland are locked within the minds of people who do not perceive themselves as storytellers or writers. I believe we have opened a door to those people, in addition to nurturing the talent of some of the most respected writers in the country.”
Recently I had a poem about gorse on the Pendemic.ie site which describes itself as, ‘Not a literary magazine for ordinary times, but journaling the extraordinary.’ in these COVID-19 times. My poem describes the gorse that flowers copiously in Ireland in Spring.
I had many responses on Twitter, sharing a love of gorse and of poetry inspired by it, old and new. I’d like to bring some of them together here to share that pleasure further, as a simple record. This is a mere fraction of the gorse-related poetry one might find. Continue reading Gorse, Whin, Furze – a shared love in Irish, Ulster Scots, Scots & English
Nedim Türfent, Kurdish-Turkish, journalist
Nedim Türfent is serving an eight-year-and-nine- month prison sentence on trumped-up terrorism charges following an unfair trial, during which scores of witnesses said they had been tortured into testifying against him. He spent almost two years in solitary confinement in harrowing detention conditions. Determined to keep writing, he started composing poetry while detained. (PEN International) Continue reading Poem for Nedim Türfent – PEN International on Poetry Day
A GARDENER IMAGINES DEATH DURING THE PANDEMIC, 2020
Is this what I will see:
against a haze of blue a yellow iris
− spear among green blades −
calling me upwards from my final stumble;
no time to name them, each one
and everything I’ve loved, but a yellow
that is all that yellow is
assuming me? Or
eyes behind a visor, summoning me
towards all that human is?
Pendemic.ie is a great platform for sharing work during the pandemic.