Originally Blogging the Artist's Way. Thoughts, musings, experience of the 12-week course, January to March 2006. And after that?.... Life, creativity, writing. Where does it all meet? Here, perhaps.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Poetry Thursday. Streets.

This week, Poetry Thursday invite us to take the theme of Streets I Have Known. I had a street poem. It's locked into a computer I can't get into. That's a problem for tomorrow, so I wrote the streets of my childhood/early teens instead.

The Journey Home

William Street,
smell of chips and vinegar
from the Golden Grill:
Boyds’ window full of
what I want, what I want next;
the Woollen Company, with a mirror-door,
for a Harry Worth trick –
became a ritual, don’t pass without
kicking up one leg,
looking in the mirror
at my marionette reflection.

Pass the bank corner,
and the Pavilion (scene of first dances,
maybe first kisses),
where William Street
yields to Mulgrave Street,
Horse and Hound,
the Mart, bacon-factory with its
squeals and smells.

The jail’s high walls, and the school of music,
where I happened to see the President of Zambia,
on my way home from school one day.

Asylum – walk on that side of the road,
kicking leaves in autumn, watch out for Berry Moss,
or the Shouting Man, or the Blue Boy.

Walk on, where Mulgrave Street becomes
the Tipperary Road, the road home,
past the Fairgreen, past the balconied houses,
turn the corner, across from the butcher’s shop.
St. Anthony’s. I am home.

Find more street-journeys HERE

And for anyone who would like to catch my radio-poetry debut, it's HERE - you have to click on "Listen to the Latest Show", and the whole programme is good, but it's not all poetry. It has music and memoir also. There's a poem by Paul Perry to start (about the 12th minute, and mine comes in around the 54th minute!)

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At 14/12/06 3:12 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

That was really wonderful- so expressive. I've loved reading everyone's poems as they take me to all these different little worlds...
Thank you.

At 14/12/06 3:43 pm, Blogger deirdre said...

The memory of the fish & chipper around the corner is a good one. Thanks for conjuring that.

I listened to your RTE poem. It's always good to hear a poet read their work - it gives a different rythym than I could in my own reading. Congratulations!

At 14/12/06 6:00 pm, Blogger Amber said...

I like this poem! I could picture Ireland from a child's eye. :)


At 14/12/06 6:25 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

what I want, what I want next;
the Woollen Company, with a mirror-door,
for a Harry Worth trick –
became a ritual, don’t pass without
kicking up one leg,
looking in the mirror
at my marionette reflection.

Luscious--what a great poem, with a fitting end arriving home!

At 14/12/06 6:36 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Just lovely and lilting. Another country, another's memory. BB

At 14/12/06 6:44 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This poem is so descriptive; it is easy to "see" each place as you pass by. I tried to listen to your debut, but my player couldn't recognize the format.

At 15/12/06 5:58 am, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I liked taking a stroll down your street - and I remember the Harry Worth scene from our old black-and-white TV (Phillips K9). Ah the memories! What a colourful street you lived on - so much going on!

At 15/12/06 8:49 am, Anonymous tinker said...

- I can't find a place on the screen that says "listen to the latest show." I see "Listen live" and other choices. Is there a name to the show you were on, Imelda?

As for the poem, I felt I was walking alongside you, smelling the chips and vinegar, kicking up a leg in front of the mirrored door; crossing the street, kicking leaves; arriving home at last. Thanks for the walk!

At 15/12/06 4:40 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Awesome! Congratulations on your radio-poetry reading debute of Sea Lions on Miscellany.

Love "whole chunks of me fell away, disolved and you filled the space"
Mother's love defined! Motherhood has moved my shoreline too!

Lisa (

At 15/12/06 9:54 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This feels like the kind of tour you give a new friend or lover when you first take them to the place of your childhood - but in poetry. Thank you for taking me with you.


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