Saturday, August 16, 2008

Lovely Books

Back to reality from Dublin on Thursday, an excellent reading, listening to all gathered in Chapters of Parnell Street. I love the themed readings, this one being Sun, Sand and Ice Cream, because it pushes you out of your normal reading choices and can sometimes urge you into writing about things you'd not considered before.

Most poets managed to link in the sun and the sand, in their readings, without too much stretching the framework. Good to hear the Galway contingent, Aoife & Celeste, who unfortunately had to turn around and head back to Galway. I bought their chapbook, Smoke & Skin, available from Lapwing, Belfast. I snuck in the ice-cream, reading the one posted below about Our Family. I cheated a wee bit on the sun, getting in a long poem that I wrote in June about boobs. It was its first outing ever at a reading and went down surprisingly well. Inspired, in part, as a riposte to Alan Gillis's 'The Lad,' I would post it, but it's under consideration at present. Fingers crossed, eh?

I went on a mini book-buying spree in Hidges Foggis, buying Mick Imlah's 'The Lost Leader,' one I couldn't get back in June, for love or money; a selected of John Hewitt, a selected of Michael Longley and the recent short story collection by Claire Keegan, 'Walk the Blue Fields.' I read the first story set in Achill in the Heinrich Boll cottage (and laughed), whilst sitting on the grass in Stephen's Green - a little hard to imagine the sunshine of Thursday against the storm-lashed day that's outside now! I've since read the opening poems of Imlah's - bloomin 'eck. Great stuff.


Emerging Writer said...

Congratulations on the first successful outing for your boobs (juvenile snigger)

BarbaraS said...

Oh fr Gds ske! I left myself wide open fr that un!

Kay said...

A veritable feast of poetry and books and readings and summer good livin' Yay for you.

Women Rule Writer said...

Glad the Chapters gig went well. Let us know if the boobs poem gets published and where, won't you?

BarbaraS said...

I will WRW. Thanks for the ask :)

Kay, you're right! Looking back on the blog, I think I have had a really good poetry summer. Lots more to come in the autumn too :)

Dick said...

What a great theme. I envy you the readings. If ever you're in London...

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

Hidges Foggis: I am not sure anymore about the spelling of this, dear Barbara but I'm almost sure it's one of the two mythical bookshops in Dublin for me, Waterson's and this one, in front of each other on the two sides of Dawson street, the Trinity trees waving near.
I bought "Seeing things" there and a lot of novels including all the works by my favourite Irish novelist who unfortunately died recently:
Clare Boylan.

All my best, Davide

what happened ?how did i get HERE? said...

Hodges Figgis I seem to the blog and the poetry. As an ex-pat living in London, raising two cheeky London kids, it was a breath of fresh air...planning a trip before Christmas so will keep an eye out for readings...and will treat myself to the book...!

BarbaraS said...

Yes, it is Hodges Figgis, but I always call it Hidges Foggis - thanks for dropping by, What Happened.

aoc gold said...

The Daffodils


I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils,

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company!

I gazed --- and gazed --- but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought;


For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

~~~by maple story mesos