I’m honoured to have a poem in #61 of ‘The North’, the special issue on contemporary Irish poetry.
It launches on 24th January at Poetry Ireland, Dublin and on February 25th as an event organised by the Irish Literary Society.
http://www.poetrybusiness.co.uk/shop/993/north-61
I'm indulging myself by re-posting this poem of mine as it has Epiphany
allusions.
The wonderful image is of a capital in the Cathedral of Saint Lazare,
carved by Ghislebertus of Autun in the twelfth century: an angel awakens
the Magi.
CHRISTMAS STARS
The stars, a rowdy, cheerful crowd,
Ran to their places, prompt to the call,
And how they sing! since then,
A nightly choir.
Only the comets − their slow tears −
Betray the sorrow underneath that steadfastness,
For haven’t they seen it all?
− what we do down here,
Warping the darkness that they love
Into sly coverts for our filthiness.
Poor stars. Don’t grudge them their reprieve
Each year, when their paragon,
Their Star of stars, leader of kings,
Sets out once more and triumphs,
Finds his place, finding the child,
Perfect as every new-born.
Here! the Star declares to each of us,
Surely you see – surely – that you
Are a Child Awaited, you
Arrived − naked and loved − and you,
Gift-bearer of nothing,
Can stoop under this lintel,
Step clean through the needle’s eye.
CHRISTMAS
The smallest words mean the most
Joy
Hope
Love
These things
Not things
May you receive them all
A star of particular promise
A light that has sought and found you
The child of your heart
Arrived
Waiting beyond the door.
NADOLIG
Nos
Seren
Addewid
Cyflawniad
Twyllwch yn llawn lleisiau
Diwedd unigrwydd.
Christmas
Night
A star
A promise
A fulfilment
Darkness full of voices
An end to loneliness
CHRISTMAS STARS
The stars, a rowdy, cheerful crowd,
Ran to their places, prompt to the call,
And how they sing! since then,
A nightly choir.
Only the comets − their slow tears −
Betray the sorrow underneath that steadfastness,
For haven’t they seen it all?
− what we do down here,
Warping the darkness that they love
Into sly coverts for our filthiness.
Poor stars. Don’t grudge them their reprieve
Each year, when their paragon,
Their Star of stars, leader of kings,
Sets out once more and triumphs,
Finds his place, finding the child,
Perfect as every new-born.
Here! the Star declares to each of us,
Surely you see – surely – that you
Are a Child Awaited, you
Arrived − naked and loved − and you,
Gift-bearer of nothing,
Can stoop under this lintel,
Step clean through the needle’s eye.
3 poems by Angela Graham 2018
http://infiniterust.com/current-issue/
My poem, ‘Admission on leaving the Port of Belfast, 1988’ appears here on page 53.
The literary magazine of Queen’s University, Belfast is edited by postgrads at the Seamus Heaney Centre for Poetry, launching 24th October at Bookfinders, Belfast.
I’m pleased to have 2 poems in it, especially ‘An Irish Merchant Seaman’, a sonnet about my late father who was a Belfast man.
Gwyneth Lewis – Henaint / Old Age, a double pleasure in Welsh and English.
Pleasure despite excruciating pain. I find myself recommending a tormenting thrill. Gwyneth Lewis’s Welsh poem Henaint and her translation of it into English, Old Age are excellent examples of the wonderful double enjoyment that a poet working in two languages can offer. Continue reading Eborakon: Gwyneth Lewis – Henaint/Old Age
I like anything that delivers on its pitch and that was certainly the case with the Mairtín Crawford Award Workshop: Preparing Poetry For Submission, April15th at the Crescent Arts Centre, Belfast.
Continue reading Mairtín Crawford Poetry Award Workshop with Moyra Donaldson
Easter edition Bangor Literary Journal. Download here
Easter
A rent in the year
Through which the cold news comes:
Even the best of us
Will be consumed by pain,
Abandoned undeservedly
And not know why
And asked to say to all this,
Yes,
Though he destroy me
Yet I trust in him.
Each of us shivers
In this gap,
Choosing to assent
Or not
To love’s defiance
Of anything other than itself.
Victory or vindication –
These it lets fall
(Aborted fruits),
Facing into the wind,
Arms wide.
I first worked in radio for the BBC in Wales in 1981. I’m still learning. On the 2nd July 2017 on the Jamie Owen Show I learned: always have your opening prepared, no matter how informal the programme. The right blend of spontaneity and clarity flows more easily after that.
This show mixes recorded music, live performance, two guest commentators and two interviewees. The brief is weird and wonderful angles on the week’s news so, along with fellow commentator, comedian, Frank Honeybone, I enjoyed sharing some ‘couldn’t-make-it-up’ stories with listeners.
