Wicklow Mountains, Ireland - from a family trip in 1996
Wishing everyone good luck in the MADNESS Poetry Tournament over at Think, Kid, Think. Thanks to Ed DeCaria for putting this together - it's been a lot of fun and it's only the beginning!
I had to come up with a poem containing the word "unnatural," pitted against Darren Sardelli's poem using the word "thawed." Voting for our match-up continues until about 11 p.m. tonight, by the way, HERE.
So my thoughts turn to Ireland this St. Patrick's Day weekend, and the wonderful contemporary Irish poet Eavan Boland, whose work I've shared before. The poem below, which is new to me, is one a reader can revisit and glean something new each time. Boland's writing is so very evocative.
Irish Interior
by Eavan Boland
(excerpt)
The woman sits and spins. She makes no sound.
The man behind her stands by the door.
There is always this: a background, a foreground.
This much we know. They do not want to be here.
The year is 1890. Before the inks are dry
Parnell will fall and orchards burn where the two
Captains - Moonlight, Boycott - have had their way.
She has a spinning wheel. He has a loom.
She has a shawl. He stands beside a landscape -
maybe a river, maybe hills, maybe even a farm ... .
Please click here to read the rest of the poem.
And try your luck with more great poetry at Gotta Book, where Greg has the Poetry Friday Roundup!