Clare Dollard reading her poem G.P.O. as part of the ‘Street Line Critics’ project in the White House Wednesday (31-07-13). Thanks again to Clare for an excellent performance and continued promotion of the project. Many thanks and gratitude also to Lucia Brunetti for recording and editing this footage.
Neil McCarthy on Catherine Street
Excerpt from ‘Mouth of a Basking Shark’ . Conversation has long been a dying art, patrons of the cafe glued to laptops, propped up like headstones in a forgotten cemetery, rigid in their reluctance to talk. – Neil McCarthy http://www.neilmccarthypoetry.com/ Photographs taken by Natalie Woociker:
Eric O’Neill on Robert Street
A mighty smith did forge nearby, The work was hot and heavy, I say with a sigh. Smiths toiled in the darkness of a smoke filled place, The above bronze plaque leaves, its only trace. Now its time to remember the trades of old, Their work is all around us,it needs respect, and its story…
Paul O’Connell on O’Connell Street (Outside Augustinian Church)
I know what you’re thinking when you’re looking at me I see it in your eyes and I don’t like what I see But what your seeing is pain and misery Sorrow & tears and trying to come through adversity It’s been so long now I forgot the real me Night after night I’m tossing…
Clare Dollard – Outside the G.P.O. – Lower Cecil Street
G. P. O. . Greatly Pissed Off queueing Seeking service- express. The parcel is not for you, And there’s no forwarding address. . Greeted Politely On entry. Your query, dealt with – quick. ‘It’s a self adhesive stamp,’ says the clerk As your tongue protrudes, to lick. . Greying Pensioners Orbit Around tassled green ropes as they wait For the meagre…
Elaine Hartigan on O’Connell Street
It’s just a street, Where strangers and friends meet, In winter the rain pours down, 11.30 pm on I rarely saw a frown. Melodies sprinkle through the air, Taking away all despair, Couldn’t count the times, The music transcends our minds. Its just a street, On which all cultures meet n greet, But even in…
Adam Rudden’s Poem outside the city library
Bookmark . River-like Our stories flow anew Along dog-eared pages – Adam Rudden
Christy O’Donnell’s poem on Thomond Bridge
I stood and watched as here they fell, some jumped freely thinking this life was hell, mixed up feelings within their head, lost to the river the floating dead, memories remain with those bereft, all were loved before here they left, on moonlight beams you can hear their song, in death there is no right…
Maire Morrissey-Cummins – Lakeside Dreams (Written in Westfield Park)
Lakeside Dreams . Dusk by the lakeside, Waters gently lap the shore. A breeze weaves through tall reeds, To dance amid soft mountain shadows. . A strawberry moon rises, Behind a copse of Oak, Rolling smoky skies. . In the hush of midnight, Bare branches reach to the stars, Weaving the falling darkness, Into a…
Project Promotion Material
Watch out for posters and leaflets that will soon be appearing around the city. If anybody has any suggestions or feedback as to where they should be placed don’t hesitate to contact us.