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by Peggy McCarthy - near buckets - aluminium and red plastic, brimming with well-water and hot cows’ milk, near drooping fuchsia and bristling heather grazing my legs when I scouted the hills, near old photos in the parlour press, faded faces, their clear American smiles spanning the ocean between us. And later by factory gates when the hooter blew, and chimneys spewed the smoky breath of a winter day, between vinyl threads, the chords sparking, singing through me their every turning note. I was born when I mouthed an answer before the question was formed. I was born was first published in Southword 41 in 2021. Peggy McCarthy is an Irish poet who completed her M.A. in Creative Writing at UCC in 2021. She won the Fish Poetry Prize 2020, was shortlisted for The Wells Poetry Prize 2020, and won third place in the Oliver Goldsmith Poetry Prize 2021. She has had work published in Hold Open the Door, A Commemorative Anthology from The Ireland Chair of Poetry 2020 and Southword 41. She was born near Skibbereen in West Cork and lives in Waterford city.

By Phil Lynch - a wedge of geese in perfect flight formation carve their way like arrows through the evening sky I ask if you have seen them you tell me no but that you heard their plaintive cries, you tell me you admire their uncompromising determination to make it to their destination you grab hold of me my feet tread the air I coast at ease in your trail, our flight path carved between moon and stars we make landfall Phil Lynch lives in Dublin. His work has been published in a range of literary journals and anthologies, most recently: Skylight 47, The Honest Ulsterman, Vox Galvia, The Bangor Literary Journal, Live Encounters Poetry, Days of Clear Light, The Music of What Happens, and 2 Meter Review. Phil was the winner of the live Intercompetitive Poetry/Spoken Word Competition, and a runner-up in the iYeats Poetry Competition. He was highly commended in The Bangor Lit Journal 40 Words Competition (2021), the Francis Ledwidge Poetry Competition (2021), and short-listed in a number of others. Phil is a regular performer at poetry/spoken word events and festivals in Ireland and has performed at events in the USA, UK, Belgium and France. His collection, In a Changing Light, (Salmon Poetry), was published in 2016 http://salmonpoetry.com/details.php?ID=394&a=284

By Pratibha Castle - As a girl I learnt to wish myself invisible on the front seat atop a double decker bus believed I was a black hole choking on gossipy fug Players smoke lonely women’s sighs the clippie perceiving no-one where I sat lumbering back along the aisle past the ‘no spitting on buses’ sign In a spin of schools quick to switch as a card sharp's chicanery or my mother’s mood taunts zephyr soft could never break me for I wasn't there I applied myself to investigating emptiness convinced I was the pause in music between thoughts air in the hollow bones of birds a missive spun from clouds by a swift more luminous than pity understood by those alone with senses more than five Having banished myself dismantled tooth hair child’s spaniel yelp grown flimsier than my granny’s ghost I established how to melt through walls Day by day my photo on the mantle faded bleached features growing fainter like an often-laundered stain dissolving to a blur Years on in Regent’s Park there was a man with eyes that saw I tried to wish myself anew re-embody muscle flesh plumping over sternum hips All I managed was a hand flaccid as a starling fallen from the clouds and that man casting not a clout passed on by left me string-less kite adrift Be Careful What You Wish first appeared in Ink Sweat and Tears, Day Two of ‘Choice’ for NPD October 8 2021 Pratibha Castle’s award-winning debut pamphlet A Triptych of Birds and A Few Loose Feathers (Hedgehog Poetry Press) was published February 2022. Her work appears in Agenda, HU, Blue Nib, OHC, London Grip, Fragmented Voices amongst others. Highly commended, long-listed and given special mention in competitions including The Bridport Poetry Prize, Welsh Poetry Competition, Gloucestershire Poetry Society Competition, Brian Dempsey Memorial Competition, Sentinel Literary Journal Competition, Storytown Poetry Competition, Pratibha is anthologised, and a regular reader for West Wilts Radio Poetry Place. A selection of poems and discussion on her life and inspiration can be heard at Home Stage Meet the Poet. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2_sEo0gMOY

By Thomas McCarthy - With songs we come into this world and my own Best memories are my mother’s attempts to sing: My shrivelled hair falls on the black cape Of a barber’s shop, wiry silver and grey of time That has passed over the top of my dry head To fall now, as leaves devoid of sap escape From the embrace of an otherwise sound Eglantine Or Willow; except that after leaves have fled From the modest tree that first gave them life They at least contain the hope of another Spring. We are humans with one Spring and one Increasingly stretched-out Autumn. Here, this young Armenian barber is the one true Spring I can offer at this hour in late January – Father of two, one child with a gift of poetry, The other learning Irish songs, and willing to sing. Thomas McCarthy is an Irish poet, novelist, and critic, born in Cappoquin, County Waterford, Ireland. He attended University College Cork where he was part of a resurgence of literary activity under Sean Lucy and John Montague. He worked at Cork City Libraries for many years. He was a Fellow of the International Writing Program, University of Iowa in 1978-79, and International Professor of English at Macalester College, Minnesota, in 1994-95. He has edited The Cork Review and Poetry Ireland Review, and has published seven collections of poetry with Anvil Press Poetry, London, including The Sorrow Garden, The Lost Province, Mr Dineen's Careful Parade, The Last Geraldine Officer, and Merchant Prince. His last two collections, Pandemonium (2016) and Prophecy (2019), were published by Carcanet Press, UK. The main themes of his poetry are Southern Irish politics, love, and memory. He is also the author of two novels; Without Power and Asya and Christine. He won the Patrick Kavanagh Poetry Award, The Alice Hunt Bartlett, The O'Shaughnessy Award, and the Annual Literary Award of The Ireland Funds. His monograph "Rising from the Ashes" tells the story of the burning of the Carnegie Free Library in Cork City by crown forces in 1920 and the subsequent efforts to rebuild the collection with the help of donors from all over the world. His prose-book, Poetry, Memory and the Party, was published by Gallery Press in early 2022.

By Michael Durack - They’d always have Paris or Varykino, Lara and Zhivago or Ilsa and Rick up on the big screen, we down below in the darkened parterre, the warm glow of compromised love washing over us from exotic (remembered) Paris or Varykino. Mind-hopping from Moscow to Morocco, an ecstasy of escapism from the humdrum domestic to the big screen from our seats down below. For Bergman, Bogart, Christie, Sharif & co had little in common with a Kathleen and Mick; they’d always have Paris or Varykino while we had Ballybunion, Salthill or Sligo. But hold on a minute, here’s the trick: between the big screen and down below is merely a matter of scale. Picture show and reality trade on the same emotions; the magic of love means we’ll all have Paris or Varykino whether up on the big screen or here down below. Michael Durack lives in Ballina, Co. Tipperary. His poems have appeared in publications such as The Blue Nib, Skylight 47, The Cafe Review, Live Encounters, The Poetry Bus, The Stony Thursday Book, The Honest Ulsterman and Poetry Ireland Review. With his brother Austin he has recorded two albums of poetry and guitar music, The Secret Chord (2013) and Going Gone (2015). He is the author of a memoir in prose and poems, Saved to Memory: Lost to View (Limerick Writers Centre 2016), and two poetry collections, Where It Began (2017) and Flip Sides (2020) published by Revival Press.

By Emma Jo Black - why do you look at me like that with your tall silence with your one red eye the wind bowing in frustration to your stare to make a walkway of itself on which to sneer at the tide watch a seagull pick the feathered flesh fresh from its kin twin mouths devouring a beak rotated back how do you follow me to shore with your metal song your blood shape in my sky “fresh tears coming out of my eyes this morning” laughs the old man on the pier his grin cut deep by the dark blade of the water how dare you recognise my face looking down from above with your rust-covered gaze I’m not lonely like you in fact, I’m leaving try chasing me down in this parched autumn mist I won’t turn back as you split through the horizon I won’t cry not for the weight of the sky on your stooped silhouette I’ve no tears for a lighthouse lest the barnacles stuck to my skin fossilise in their salt lest the barnacles stuck to my skin bring us close, you and I Emma Jo Black is a Paris-born poet and visual artist of Irish, French and American nationalities. They bridge seas through poetry and cultural anthropology, investigating migration paths and experiences of liminality. Jo hosts events at Spoken Word Paris and was recently published in The Galway Advertiser’s Vox Galvia and Lothlorien Poetry Journal vol. 6. They have worked with indigenous leaders in Colombia, left stray feathers in Berlin and stalked the streets of Dublin as a vampire. Their stage performances combine poetry, physical theatre and drag in order to celebrate the queer and the unknowable in each of us.

by Catherine Ronan - Now we are free to kiss Ancient mouths in our time Sweet apples from a golden tree Wake alive healed Trembling steel trays Land of concrete promise Underneath a calico blanket Everything revealed Three birds sing Blarney We hear them in lusty stone For all the world is red In white matted hair You rise from the waves Kiss O’Sullivan cheeks Wet feet in West Cork Fairy of the hills Never too weak to speak We hear you on the tides Whispering through the trees Clíodhna – Queen of the Banshee Catherine Ronan is a UCC graduate and has been writing poetry since childhood. She was a finalist in the Jester of the Kingdom competition 2019 and performed at The Winter Warmer Poetry Festival in 2019 and 2021. She has been published in Cork Words Anthology 2, Blue Mondays Anthology, Woman Scream Anthology, Wexford Women Writing Undercover Journal, The Opinion, Inside My 5Km Anthology, and the Ó Bhéal Five Words anthologies. Catherine won the Winter Solstice Poetry Competition in 2021 and her work was chosen as part of Poetry in the Park Project, Virtual Patrick’s Day Parade 2021, as part of the Launch and Closing of Bandon Poetry Town. She helped curate this Poetry Ireland initiative in 2021. Catherine organised a Poetry Trail for Bandon Poetry town and ran a poetry workshop with children in association with three other poets called ‘Rhymes by the River’ in association with Bandon Creative. She was a featured poet on Lime Square Poets 2021. She has also branched into Poetry Film ( Policing Mary and Where’s Your Christmas Jumper). She performs on open mics to international audiences, is a member of multiple poetry collectives, and is on the DeBarra’s Spoken Word Team. She writes articles for local newspapers regarding upcoming poetry events and festivals. Catherine lives with her husband, three children, two cats and a goldfish in West Cork!

by Matt Mooney - I'm on the Carousel that is Dublin City, around the Spire to Middle Abbey St., sitting at a table outside the Oval pub, spotting the red hop-on hop-off buses gone by the GPO and its history told of the tricolour that's flown from here to make us sovereign and forever free, on then to what’s left of Nelson’s Pillar. The Luas warns us that it's going to go, serving Jervis St. and Connolly Station: flowing through the arteries of the city and the throbbing centre of the capital. A corner stall calls fruit and veg for all in the real accents of the rare old times, worthy of the women in Moore Street, as colourful as what they've got to sell. Christy Moore is 'standing by the ocean' in his love sick song about Nancy Spain in soft emotive tones deepening the day; the floral fringe spills down on top of me from hanging baskets for brightening up. Counting chimney pots across the street - there's rows of them on red brick shops whose fronts could feature on a film set. To a scenario with a strange denouement. Enter, a gangly lad complete with a bottle who has a remarkable grin from ear to ear moving with the gait of a man inebriated, having argy-bargy with some lady friend saying, 'you can spend the rest of the day looking for me now!’ and he followed her. The homeless are not aboard the carousel in Dublin's milieu of waist-coated waiters. Neither were they in Brussels last night - in the restaurants meant only for the rich. Just a thought as I muse outside the Oval. A native of South Galway, Matt Mooney has lived and worked in Listowel since 1966. His collections of poems are: Droving (2003), Falling Apples (2010), Earth to Earth (2015), The Singing Woods (2017), Steering by the Stars (2021), Éalú (2021). Winner of The Pádraig Liath Ó Conchubhair Award, 2019. Deputy Editor of The Galway Review and its Poetry Reviewer. His poems have been published in a number of literary publications including The Blue Nib, Feasta, Vox Galvia and in anthologies at home and abroad. His poems have appeared translated in spanish-language literary magazines. He continues to feature in many live and virtual poetry reading events.

by Joe Naughton - (In memory of Tom Keaveney, Dunmore, Co. Galway) Grandfather waked on the kitchen table bobs and bits of lifeless brass scattered, dusty entrails your hands once cradled, the sugar bowl full with heart, it barren now of beat and sound Patience intertwines your gentle fingers, their gifted touch peels back time, unearths the toll from your telling of it Grandfather brothers stand, keening by the wall, leathered anvils drumming rods willing that from the timeless his two hands will up and walk, Lazarus like, grandfather stirs, stretching ends and odds, belly rumbles, Escapement sputters, gasps through geartrain, spring and spindle pendulum weighed, it wags again to becomes your chime not the time to be silent for its time again for time to talk and talk it does for there’s time to tell, the brothers chiming in as you slow waltz him to the corner, between the dresser and the sink breathless you listen intently to grandfathers resurrected pulse the Tuam Herald ’s front page folded, correcting his Pisa like affliction, Easter Sunday morning within St Nicholas, hope has risen, uplifted by holy sound warmth still rising from the sepulchre of gun-barrel veins welded by your hand would grandfather’s heart still beat if weighed once more, sound the echo of your heartbeat and tick to the trickle of our sand. Joe Naughton hails from Corrandulla, Co. Galway. He has been writing poetry since 2016. His material derives mainly from memoir and topical issues. For the past five years, he has attended the Over the Edge online series and poet Kevin Higgins's workshop classes. Joe has had poems published in the Vox Galvia section of the Galway Advertiser and in Spilling Cocoa Over Martin Amis. He is a regular reader on Lime Square Poets and Off the Page open mic platforms and is a member of Mountbellew Underground Writers Group and Write On, Galway.

by Liam Boyle - Now that the county is our oyster and the weather app promises a window before evening rain we decide on an afternoon walk, boardwalk over bog, a slight incline, after lunch in The Purple Door, Leenane. We start on a gravel path, a marked trail. Now and then younger walkers, lithe and light-footed, glide past. This is the place to be, crossing patches of bog on planks, sniffing yellow furze in bloom, stepping on lichen stained stones. The slope gets steeper till, faced with a wall of stone, I baulk, I pause a moment, then press on, rough slabs form steps slapped before me. This is tougher than I thought. A drizzle drenches me, a welcome coolant on my face, but the steps are slippier. I climb with care, frequent breaks to quell the lactate in my legs. With each break I gaze at the changing scenery - the higher I am the farther I see back beyond Letterfrack. At the summit I am Zeus surveying the world of humans as wind buffets my face and tosses my beard. Through drizzle I see hikers like ants on the trail below, farms and bogland stitched together, a car beetling along road between tiny villages, a silver thread of river flecked white with distant waterfalls, Kylemore Abbey a child’s toy tucked at the edge of a pool. In front, hills, harbour, sea, islands. Behind, Twelve Pins like titans’ teeth threatening to chomp. And here, sparkling quartz and white marble remind me of the age of mountains, the age of rock and earth, and how this height once was the bottom of the sea. Liam Boyle was born in Drogheda and moved to Galway in the 1970s. He wrote poetry in his teens and twenties but then stopped. He started again recently and has rediscovered its joys and challenges. He has been published in the Galway Advertiser's Vox Galvia page and has been a featured reader on Galway’s Over the Edge readings.

by Jeff Kaliss - She lies down, downhill from the clapboard house, and the barn, far from her bed, and she rises to rest down left on Wyeth’s canvas. There she stretches along all our memories where she may stay, if only she can, long past the sea-cooled day’s dusk outside the town of Thomaston, and long after, after she’s gone to ground in the town cemetery, and the artist has been lain beneath a worded stone, way down along the rolling hills of Pennsylvania. For now, with us, she feels with the brief, short life of a Maine meadow, in all its amber multitude, her eyes, away from ours, watching the waves of simple splendour, no place for longing there. It’s we who want her wanting. Jeff Kaliss is a longtime music journalist and author, brought up in Bar Harbor on the Atlantic Coast of the State of Maine. After the publication of his I Want to Take You Higher: The Life and Times of Sly & the Family Stone ( 2008, 2009), he completed an MFA degree in Creative Writing at San Francisco State University, in his adopted hometown, where he and his wife Louise Whitlock raised two children. Jeff’s poetry has been published in college journals and in general reader periodicals, and he’s a frequent reader at Lime Square Poets and at numerous open mics online and in person, where he has been regularly featured.

by Ger Duffy - You and I no longer look one another in the eye, our children have stopped asking why. The mongrel rests her muzzle on my lap a mower judders to a stop, a jet pens a line across blue sky. Rush of bird wings as light enters leaves, tremble of branches, an ambulance blares by, then stillness. Somewhere, someone is taking their last breath, Somewhere someone is entering the fire, smoke rising, bones crumbling to ash. When the time comes we will lie down before the wolf like lambs, while woodbine and dog roses release their scent, heavenward. Remission was published in Drawn to the Light Press and was nominated for a Pushcart prize in 2021. Ger Duffy lives in Co Waterford. Her poems have been published in Slow Dancer Press, The Women’s Press, Viking Press, Drawn to the Light Press, Vox Galvia, In the Midst Anthology, The Waxed Lemon, Cathal Bui Selected Entries Anthology (2021), Southword, Local Wonders Anthology (Dedalus, 2021). She was awarded 2nd prize for the Oliver Goldsmith International Poetry Competition, 2021. Ger was also the recipient of a Mentoring Award in Poetry from The Munster Literature Centre in 2021. She was a featured reader for Cultivating Voices in 2020. She has been a Featured Reader for and been published by the US-based Poetry X Hunger Website, 2021.