Tomorrow is the start of spring in my part of the world. I would like to share two poems that herald the arrival of my favourite season. One is my own, and one is by the English poet Philip Larkin. Both hold sadness and hope in equal measure. Nothing is either this, or that. Even…
The End
I am thinking today of endings and beginnings, and how we often think we are not ready for either. We are. In the words of A.A. Milne: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, smarter than you think, and loved more than you know.” The End The end comes gently, on tiny…
A Writer in Ireland: Part Four
In Crossmaglen the fire burns true The patriotic flame will never die And when you hear the battle cry It will be the fighting men of Crossmaglen. -“The Fighting Men of Crossmaglen”, IRA ballad, 1970s Armagh and Crossmaglen After a wildly comfortable night in a country B & B just outside Armagh (I had it…
A Writer in Ireland: Part One
Born in this island, maimed by history and creed-infected, by my father taught the stubborn habit of unfettered thought I dreamed, like him, all people should be free. -John Hewitt, "The Dilemma" There was a surreal, joyful melancholy to this homecoming. As we punched through the haze above a sweltering London and soared left, easing to…
Before You
Once upon a time (actually, ten years ago today) I screamed and swore my way through 24 hours of excruciating labour before a disturbingly cheerful surgeon sliced open my stomach at 3am and pulled out a tiny wailing creature who would prevent me from sleeping/weeing on my own/having any peace/existing as an autonomous adult for…
Ten tips to beat writer’s block
This is an extension of my last post (Writing tips: come and get 'em). It repeats some of the tips, but I've added five more, and some other new stuff. Keep reading. "Writing is easy: All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." -…
A trio of poems
In honour of World Poetry Day (which was actually yesterday), I thought I would re-publish three of my own poems - poems that are dear to me in very different ways. The first I wrote for my daughter, the most precious thing in my life. It tries to capture those moments in the wee small hours…
Love After Love
This poem has always meant a great deal to me. Everyone will have their own interpretation, but for me it speaks of false self and real self; relinquishing the former and finally, joyfully, discovering the latter. Its author, Derek Walcott, was born in Saint Lucia in the West Indies in 1930. He won the Nobel Prize in…
Less really is more
Here is another poem inspired by my daughter. It's amazing how an everyday task can spark a creative impulse. At first I tried to make the poem much longer, and sat for a number of hours trying to come up with more clever and intricate word plays and puns. In the end, I just went with the few,…
The Invitation
I want to share a poem with you this morning. It's not one of my own (but boy, do I wish I had as cool a name as the author). I was introduced to it just two days ago by a special friend. In a world of smartphone addiction and getting ahead and Rushing Woman Syndrome…
Patricia Bell, Author 