Culchie Treks through the fields to training (it’s a five minute walk) Only to be greeted by the sting up...
The Moon Don’t Care This old house, a rattle of bones, settles in for the night— the lights of its...
Along the upper Spoon River, 1935 When they found him at last, he was face down in a pool of...
There are no blue plaques in our village, no Heaney or Shackelton or Yeats to commemorate. A notable event is...
A Thin Place If you walk in a straight line across the beach from the footpath which runs between blue...
SUNDAYS You follow the thread to your country childhood, hands frozen potato gathering – little slave! the goose’s wet head...
The Summer of Snakes Some summer I bailed hay, For Farmer Dan, square bales, square As caskets, just as heavy....
A Dedication to Drowning Stretched like a drum a coating of me covers my skeletal frame. For now, I am...
So be it, unto us all – Written in memory of Eadie, my wonderful rabbit, died aged 11, Feb. 13,...
Dark turf The breeze stirred ferns on the high bank. I watched you drop down the layers of Cloneen bog, then...
Listen to Laura Swift read her poem “Silage Time.” Silage Time They looked so snug All four bundled...
No talking to you now, quiet boy, holding May Elliott’s hand at the back of a ditch standing beside Bobby...