Monday, March 9, 2015

Tonight at Wicklow Writers

There will be no Wicklow Writers next Monday 16 March 2015 due to it being the night before St Patrick's Day. But we will be up and running again on Monday 23 March 2015.
Our homework is to write a poem or short story with the following words:

So tonight we revisited poems we had written in the past, we spoke of Haiku's and listened to some poems that were presented at the meeting.
We re-visited the idea of what makes a poem and what differentiates it from a prose. It was decided it was ok to have different styles of writing but how can the reader differentiate whether it is a poem we are presenting or a short prose? We read two examples from the same author in the group and decided, that even though both were labelled 'poems' one was geared more toward a prose and the other was more of a poem. We differentiated between the two by discussing how the two pieces sounded when read aloud, the rhthym, the words used, the air of mystery presented and the collaboration of the words that allowed you to use your imagination. Where did the piece carry you/ take you, if anywhere?
We did a bit of free writing by once again presenting five random words: BLACK, TOMORROW, ALOT, FAMILY and JEALOUS. We then wrote for a about 15 minutes.
This brought up a conversation on Advent and black bread! Where did it come from? What was it made of? So our task is to research the origins of 'Black Bread' during times of fasting!!


Free Writing Session: 

We sat together as a family. Always at mealtimes. But tonight we all ran for the table when called, as tonight was the night before Advent. Everything had to be eaten tonight. There was never alot but there would be more than what we would be getting tomorrow.
Mammy had made an apple pie. I was always jealous of my older brother, Jack. He always got a fine big slice. He worked now and helped put food on the table. So Mammy always rewarded his efforts with the thickest piece of the pie. 'Eat up now, Jack. You need your energy!' she'd say with a glow in her eyes.
I'd sit patiently waiting for my slice.
Dad's was cut next and left to the side. He always liked his as part of his supper. Just before bed with a cup of tea.
I licked my lips. I watched the knife slice through the soft crust and as Mammy lifted the knife it drooled apple syrup. It dripped slowly from the blade.
I waited for my slice.
She cut her own. A small piece. Always watching her figure. Just a piece to wet her lips - just for the taste.
I was fifth in line i.e. fifth born. So I had to wait until everyone else was served before me. It was never divided equally. You earned your slice, like Jack.
Niamh's slice, she was marrying wealthy!
Tommy's slice, he played rugby!
Bernadette's slice, she was a nun!
Diarmuid's slice, he played GAA!
Then me. I was only 12 and I hadn't done my chores! I watched in anticipation. Mammy handed me a saucer. As she lowered it to my view I raised my hand to take the plate.
Crust! Just the crust! Again!
I huffed into my 'slice'.
'Well if you don't want it...' she said, still holding onto the other side of the saucer. I took the saucer and bent over it, shuffled my bum away from her in my seat and huddled over it.
'It's fine! Thank you!' I huffed.
'Enjoy it!' she said 'It's the black bread tomorrow!'


Monday, January 19, 2015

We Are The Silent

We are the Silent

We are the silent masses
We are the politician’s fools
We are the plain and the ordinary
The hurlers on bar room stools

We are the data fodder
Results in election TV
We are the trendy forecasts
The outcomes they’re waiting to see

The pie-charts on Party tables
The malleable numbers are we
We are the taken for granted
Our opinions assumed to be

Yet silent, we are not unthinking
We see through the hype and the spin
Don’t think for us or make assumptions
We determine who’ll lose or who’ll win.

Our marches and protests don’t matter
We have little to fight with of note
But our numbers, and our secret weapons
Our pencils, and our little vote.

Martin Swords
January 2015
Wicklow Writers

Monday, November 24, 2014

Homework - Less than a 100 word story!

So for homework last week and the week prior we were to try and write a story of less than 100 words! This is my attempt!

Suppose this were my final day. by Ruth Moore

I would like you to know that I loved you. This should go without saying.

I would not want to visit all the places I have ever dreamed of nor would I spend all my money.

We would sit together on the beach. The stones uneven against our bottoms.  The cool breeze blowing in from the sea, allowing our hair to rustle gently. Quietly enjoying the pleasant scent of seaweed in the salty crisp air.

We would work out how you would move forward without me in your life. We both would be certain that you would be ok. 

(99 words excluding the title!)

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Monday Night Meeting 17 November 2014

At this week's Writers session we spoke about short stories. Our homework from the previous week was to write a short story of 100 words in length. Each of the writers presented their homework. This opened the floor to discussion on what defined a short story. It was agreeable to all that it is one that has the standard beginning, middle and end, that something had to take place to make it a story and that it 'takes a turn'. Other definitions include that the short story has one main theme, it focuses on one plot and possibly has one main character.

We briefly named a few American and Canadian short story writers such as Richard Ford known for his short story ' Rock Springs' and 'Sweethearts', Canadian short story writer Alice Munro, George Saunders short story '10 December' and many of the Irish short story writers such as Brendan Behan and William Trevor.

We are looking forward to attending the Wicklow Library's Seasonal poetry reading night next Wednesday 26 November from 6:30p.m. where the public have been invited to nominate their favourite Christmas poem and present it for reading at the Wicklow Library. Some of the Writers will be there to read some of the poems and read some of their own work on the night.

My favourite and most memorable Christmas poem is 'A Christmas Childhood' by Patrick Kavanagh. I love the part of the light shining through the stacked bale of hay in the barn and how he likens it to a 'hole in heavens gable'.

I look forward to the evening.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

A Poem about Food

‘Pieces of Bread’              By E. J. Ryan.

Pieces of bread, pieces of bread,
Fresh baked toasted or fried,
Cut into soldiers ready for dipping
In soft-boiled eggs golden and dripping,
Croutons for soup tainted with spice,
Oh, isn’t eating ever so nice?

What about meats? So many kinds,
Prime beef or lamb, bacon and pork,
Chicken and turkey or succulent duck,
Rabbit and game-bird, haunch of a buck,
Sausages, puddings, rashers thin sliced,
Oh, isn’t eating ever so nice?

So many fish, fresh from the sea,
Netted or caught on the line,
The salmon the cod, maybe a wrasse,
Tuna and herring, mackerel or bass,
Lobsters and squid, oysters on ice,
Oh, isn’t eating ever so nice?

There are the vegetables, many and varied,
Frozen or par-boiled or pickled,
Salads served fresh can be so crispy,
Spaghetti, all shapes, noodles so wispy,
Root veg of all kinds whole or well diced,
Oh, isn’t eating ever so nice?

Cheeseboard and fruit, too many to name,
Gorgonzola, cheddar, feta and brie,
Apples and pears, plums or a peach,
Strawberries and cream, just within reach,
Juicy sweet melons, care for a slice?
Oh, isn’t eating ever so nice?

What about something to wash it all down?
Whatever your pleasure may be,
Fruit of the barley or of the vine,
A variety of ales and of good wine,
In moderation it’s not a vice,
Oh, isn’t drinking ever so nice.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Wicklow Library Book Launch

Finally we got a few snaps from the Long Stone book launch that was held in Wicklow Library in September 2014.
There was a lovely 'write up' in the Wicklow People also.  A great night was had by all.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

So I've entered two competitions!

So from the title you will know by now that I have entered two poetry competitions! I found details of which on the Poetry Ireland website while I was researching a school competition my son wanted to know about. So I took the plunge and entered my poems 'I Close My Eyes' and 'Goodbye'. I entered one into the Ballymaloe International Poetry Prize and the second in the Troubador International Poetry Prize. So fingers crossed! I am only a small bit competitive but 'Game on!'. See you Monday...