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51% British:
Writing the troubles out of my head
'My crowd were taught to be whatever you weren't. Easier than unfolding your heart, your curtailed self, when you're up against that invisible line, as real as God.'
The dogged people 2012
WELCOME
This blog contains a selection of poetry I've written over the last 20 years or so. Most of the poetry is written about my experience of Northern Ireland's recent bloody conflict.
In particular I write about the border country of Fermanagh where my roots lie and the enduring legacy of routine murder on a beleaguered, traumatised and often forgotten community.
POEM OF THE DAY
Bog geography
A map on a rectory wall -
Once as potent as the chalice.
The red dots illustrating
Anointed places of execution
Are faded pink -
A dimming constellation of loss,
A rolled over roll call,
A fallow murderscape,
A local travesty
One could navigate by lunchtime.
Needing any more death
Like a hole in the head
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