‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

The night before Christmas, and it’s been a busy couple of weeks here on Ireland’s west coast – as no doubt it’s been for you.

As I said to someone recently: If every one in the family is in the right place, at the right table, healthy and able to enjoy the Christmas meal – really that’s all that matters.

So, at a time of stress for many – but also one of affection, fun, and gathering – please take time out for yourself.  Enjoy this wonderful reading by Dylan Thomas of his Child’s Christmas in Wales. 

I’ve run out of time to write the usual pre-Christmas blog post. But, you know what? It can wait.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS, every one.

‘Hail to the Chief’

Ever since I was a child I haven’t been able to help myself when it comes to sounding off.

The first such letter I wrote was to the RTÉ programme, Motley. It was a kids’  TV programme so I don’t know why they were discussing Finance Minister Charlie Haughey’s tax exemption scheme for writers and artists. Perhaps it was part of a news round up.  Anyhoo, they must have asked their junior viewers what they thought about it, because I seem to have expressed an opinion to whatever adult would listen to me.  I thought it was a great idea:  artists and writers should get tax breaks. Someone, probably my dad, said, Write and tell them. So I did. And they read my letter out on the television.

Reader, there was no stopping me after that.

Which leads me to texting radio shows. Sometimes, I shout at the radio and type out furious texts or social media posts. Then, I delete them – as there are times one shouldn’t become radio fodder. Or, I’ll engage and comment here and there. So, when someone asked was anyone watching the U.S. presidential debates, I offered up my ha’penny’s worth.

Which is how I ended up talking to Ryan Tubridy about the second debate and, in the process, extolling the virtue of the Tunnocks teacake.

tunnocks-teacake

http://www.rte.ie/radio1/ryan-tubridy/programmes/2016/1010/822820-the-ryan-tubridy-show-monday-10-october-2016/

They  asked me to chat about the third debate – but ran out of programme time. Then they rang the day before the election and asked if I’d be doing an all-nighter again. I sure was. And I’d be going for the Tunnocks teacakes again as treat of choice. Would I chat about it? I sure would:

http://www.rte.ie/radio/utils/radioplayer/rteradioweb.html#!rii=b9%5F21084683%5F20433%5F09%2D11%2D2016%5F

Up at 1.30am again – Let the games begin! Poor CAT didn’t know whether she was coming or going. Over to her dish, and discovered it wasn’t breakfast time. To the front door, and discovered it was still the middle of the night.

cat-election-night

In the end she stuck with me & CNN until dawn, by which time we all knew the outcome. He’d voted for himself, and made sure The Missus did too, by the looks of this:

trump-voting

Unfortunately, plenty more voted for him too. (Hillary won the popular vote, however!)

As a slightly older child, I wrote to President Childers’ widow when he died, and I received a lovely note from her. Imagine: being a kid and getting a black-edged envelope with the presidential crest on it.  As literary editor of the student newspaper in college, I wrote to our current President; requesting a poem for our Christmas issue. I had a lovely call from his personal assistant.

I’d write to the White House … but I’d end up with a permanent ‘Denied Entry’ stamp on my passport if I wrote what I really want to say. It would not “be a beautiful thing”. Bigly.

So, here’s this ha’penny’s worth: ‘Heil to the Chief’.

That’s SO not a typo.

We’ll leave it there.

Be.COMing a dot com

OOOOH! There’s posh!

I invested a few more euros that I don’t have, and had myself dot.commed.

My website is now karenjmcdonnell.com

Apart from that, the song remains the same – as Led Zeppelin might have said.  There’s a new post up today on my Writer’s Blog: the second one about writers’ retreats.

My writing continues apace. I’ve been re-drafting since the summer trips to Annaghmakerrig and the John Hewitt Intl. Summer School, and I’ve been submitting work. We will pass speedily over the competitions I’ve entered!

My little compadre keeps me company as I slave over a hot PC.

Bessa, aka CAT.
Bessa, aka CAT.

I think this year has been about development, and stepping up to the poetic block. And that’s no bad thing.

Keep on truckin’, bad hombres and nasty women!

I'm not sure about the copyright on this - I'd be glad to rectify that.
I’m not sure about the copyright on this – I’d be glad to rectify that.

 

Slam Dunk! Poetry!

Am heading to this tomorrow evening. It promises to be a rare night!                                      There may be some tickets left at the door, so do come along. Just make sure to bring rain gear and a torch. It’s dark on that country road as you move from the car park to the welcoming lights of the cottage and the tower. Let’s stir up a few of Yeats’s and George’s spirit pals, shall we?

May the best poetry slammer win!

thoor-poetry-slam

Culture AND Exercise!

culture-night

 

It’s Culture Night again!

Here is a link to what’s happening in Co. Clare.

But I blow the trumpet loudly for the Poetry Collective, who are doing a guided literary walk around Ennis tonight. It promises to be fantastic and informative, and hey! you get in a bit of exercise at the same time. Meet at Clare Country Museum in Arthur’s Row at 5.15pm. You end up at Poets’ Corner Bar in the Old Ground Hotel, which is only right and proper!

I’d be a part of the tour myself if I didn’t have a gammy knee. Grrrrr. But I know the route and intend taking myself around some day …

Enjoy Culture Night, whatever you do!

 

 

Poetry for breakfast

Come to the ESF Poetry Breakfast on Saturday, 8th July at the Record Break in Ennis at 11 am.
Sinéad says “Led by the Poetry Collective, this is an all inclusive open mic of poetry. Share your own poem or read from one of your all time favourites in the RB Café garden this Saturday.”
Sure what else would you be doing on a Saturday morning?

Bígí linn!

The Record Break Cafe
The Record Break Cafe

Capital City

 

stock-photo-statue-of-oscar-wilde-by-danny-osborne-in-dublin-s-merrion-square-archbishop-ryan-park-45636058

I’ve been up in Capital City since yesterday.

Lucky me – I got a place on Poetry Ireland hosted masterclass with the Ireland Chair of Poetry, Paula Meehan. A dozen of us met at Ballywaltrim Library in Bray. Time flew, as it always does on such occasions.  It was well worth the journey by car, train, DART, bus, & shanks mare to get there.

Thanks to Paula for the gift of her gentle presence and insight, and to everyone around the table who shared their work. And to Jane who kept an eye on the clock.

I stayed in the heart of ‘town’. And the bould bucko above is diagonally across the street from the sun-filled dining room as I type this. Breakfast with Oscar – peachy!

Blue skies over Dublin, so I’ll pop over later to Oscar. I used to work near here. I loved lunchtime moments in Merrion Square – even the frosty days in the heather garden, with the snowdrops and crocuses.

Here is a good site about Oscar in the park:

http://www.dublincity.ie/DublinArtInParks/English

I’m off to RTE later to record some poetry. But more about that later.

 

World Poetry Day – a dip into Poetry’s lucky-bag

It’s World Poetry Day!

unlogo

Time is not my friend today, so I thought I’d just pull something out of the poetic lucky bag, so to speak.

And here’s what I chose.  Virgil’s Aeneid.

Nope – not the recent posthumous translation of Book VI from Seamus Heaney. (I have my copy, but the Underworld has to wait for Easter, when I can get away from ‘work’ writing.)

During my Classics years at NUI Galway, I had great teachers. Amanda and Mark worked with us on The Aeneid. The translation I have is by Robert Fagles. His work on it, and The Iliad, has brought tears to my eyes; he never loses sight of the Masters’ poetry.

Aeneas leaving Dido by Giovanni Francesco Romanelli
Aeneas leaving Dido
by Giovanni Francesco Romanelli

Here are a few lines from BOOK IV – for all you star-crossed lovers out there:
But Aeneas
is driven by duty now. Strongly as he longs
to ease and allay her sorrow, speak to her,
turn away her anguish with reassurance, still,
moaning deeply, heart shattered by his great love,
in spite of all he obeys the gods’ commands
and back he goes to his ships.

……

Then Juno in all her power, filled with pity
for Dido’s agonizing death, her labor long and hard,
sped Iris down from Olympus to release her spirit
wrestling now in a deathlock with her limbs.
Since she was dying a death not fated or deserved,
no, tormented, before her day, in a blaze of passion –
Proserpine had yet to pluck a golden lock from her head
and commit her life to the Styx and the dark world below.
So Iris, glistening dew, comes shimmering down from the sky
on gilded wings, trailing showers of iridescence shimmering
into the sun, and hovering over Dido’s head, declares:
“So commanded, I take a lock as a sacred gift
to the God of Death, and I release you from your body.”

With that, she cut the lock with her hand, and all at once
the warmth slipped away, the life dissolved in the winds.