Видео

The burger-eaters at McD's Are no lighter on their feet Than the crispy chicken-eaters at KFC

Wonderful poem.

Thanks ❤

Another great Irish poet. Interesting life.

So lovely. Thank you for such a fine recitation.

❤️

I found Gails work from the poetry unbound podcast. She is such a great crafter of stories

Great explanation of community

Thank you, Gabriel, pleased to see you 'in action' and to hear -- to hear! -- Irish spoken by one of Modern Ireland's important living poets. Maureen E. Mulvihill / Princeton Research Forum, NJ.

Hi,I am a student and was searching for few poems of McGukian but didn't find anywhere hope you could help the poem include Tulips, sofa and Mr.Gregors Garden. By the way just accidentally reached here but you sound really good...keep going

The Greatest Steeplechase Ever Run is a poem written by Andrew Evzona on 27th November 2018 It was a sunny Saturday 7th March 1964 The stage was set for the Cheltenham Gold Cup race There were only four horses lining up to take part As the two greatest ever seen came face to face Both aged seven, Arkle and Mill House their names Ireland and England's equine heroes ,most certainly They had met at Newbury just four months before When Mill House prevailed ,though Arkle slipped unluckily Mill House was the odds on favourite to oblige The reigning champion's team would not hear of defeat Pas Seul and Kings Nephew completed the field As they set off, we were on the edge of our seat As usual, Mill House,"the big horse" led the way round With Arkle stalking him ,right behind, no mistake Willie Robinson and Pat Taaffe playing cat and mouse While the other pair were soon trailing in their wake The speed the pair raced at was incredible for sure Over three and a quarter miles and fences twenty two As they approached the home turn, the commentator said "They are both going great guns",it is true Suddenly, Arkle accelerated like an E-type Jag As they powered to jump the fence which was the last He was quickly three lengths ahead ,and, asserting There was no way Mill House would get past To a crescendo of cheers, Arkle proved to be the best Finishing five lengths ahead at the line With a further twenty five back to ,previous winner, Pas Seul We had just seen the greatest of all time

Arkle is a poem written by Andrew Evzona on 2nd June 2020 Arkle, just the mere name conjures up the magic So sad that his career ended in a manner so tragic He was born in Meath ,Ireland, on 19th April 1957 And on 30th May 1970, he left us and went to heaven It is true, he was really named after a Scottish mountain He began to race and thrill the public again and again His owner was Anne, who was Duchess of Westminster His jockey Pat Taaffe, and, his trainer Tom Dreaper He was so nimble on his feet ,and, he never fell Could he be the greatest ever chaser, time would tell There was excitement in the air, as, all talk was of Mill House England's champion, they were set to meet as cat and mouse Their first clash in 1963 at Newbury, Mill House easily won Though Arkle had landed in a divot, and ,his race was run Pat told the winning jockey ,that, he'd never beat him again The Cheltenham Gold Cup was the stage to revenge the pain And, so they met on Saturday 7th March 1964 An army of fans for both champions, and, what a roar! Mill House set the pace ,with, Arkle ready for the test Only two others competed, looking for third place at best The pair were far ahead, as they approached the final jump Pat Taaffe confident, and, ready to play his decisive trump One kick, and, he was away, as Arkle powered up the hill Arkle was the new champion, it had been such a thrill He dominated for three years, as, nothing could get near The only way he'd lose was if his weight was too severe Won twenty two out of twenty six ,and, was placed in the other four Broke the track record at Sandown by seventeen seconds for sure His career ended abruptly, aged 9, when he cracked a pedal bone On 27th December 1966 at Kempton, he was out in front alone Sadly, Dormant caught him ,only, just before the winning line Could he ever recover fully, and, was there enough time? It wasn't meant to be, and, he had run his final race He still appeared at many venues, put a smile on peoples face He was referred to as "Himself", the greatest racehorse ever seen His skeleton remains at the National Stud, Arkle ,everyones dream

Wonderful poem--the feeling expressed, the rhythms & sounds making music.

Brilliant. Thank you for sharing.

I need to get that collection.

Love the imagery

Yes, great sequence - I must revisit that collection

Ahh, so lovely. You dad calls again.

I remember reading that poem when the collection came out and was really touched by it. Same now listening to you reading it. Beautiful. Thank you Sean.

Thank you for continuing this series.

wonderful. The only poem which was a bit of my life, rather than a beautiful comment on the experience

Traitor

Hello Catherine, thank you for taking the story of the "Black Cross" to another level of awareness in the history of the Monto. I very much appreciate you mentioning my name and the connection between myself and the Cross. My great grandmother, Margaret Carroll, was not the one that struck the vital blow with the poker, it was her sister, Annie McLoughlin. Annie ran two brothels back to back and Margaret helped her to run both establishments. In 2017 I published a book on this story, "A Murder in the Monto"....Martin Coffey

absolutely love this, the 80s were so dark

love this. thank you

Great to hear Cronin (here aged 92) reading his work. Brilliant biographer, novelist, and poet. Underrated master!

I read your poetry translated into Arabic. Well done, but it seems from this passage that the translation killed the poetry. I did not understand much, but I felt some of it. In general, thank you for your poetry.

Liberalism got us into this mess

The relentless hunter by Damian given to me by Damian when I was 15

I just adore this poem so much

Good one there !! Go high Nandi

🤍

Wonderful! An important project. Well done to everyone involved.

Great poem!

I don't get it. Octopus is a long poem. Why was only a small part of it read?

Oh gosh, this is so evocative and beautiful

Gorgeous, every word.

I really enjoyed this

the Nicene creed :

Republican party anthem

So potent, lovely.

She's a good poet.

What an awesome interesting poem 🎉

The most beautiful and moving poem I've read or heard for many years. The equal of Kavanagh or Heaney at their best. Thank you Moya. Long may you continue.

Is amhrán a bhí a lorg agam a thug anseo mé. Chuir seo i gcuimhne dom comhrá ar Facebook faoi “drag queens” ag léamh leabhar do pháistí in ár gcuid leabharlann. “Grooming en masse” agus na “masses” uilig á shéanadh.

McGuckian is one of my favorite living poets from Northern Ireland.

I can not pronounc Her name😢

"Hideout" by Desmond Egan Oaks down the road fall into their own shadows making the quiet quieter. And not for double decker Dublin would I swap my little stream, its imaginary whisper, its stone bridge for sitting on, its bank sloping with saplings and greeny light, its flicker of midges. Down there the sound of a car empties like an ambulance passing or the crinkle of a trout and everything is othered by this puzzle of water barely moving its cloud. Once I ran away there and never came back.

Beautiful poem. I think WH Auden also wrote about Roman soldiers on Hadrian's Wall. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.

Maybe I judged an Austrian painter too harshly