House.

Lost in the country
A living coffin
Family, buried within
Faces
Showing frown, smile, some showing nothing
Bodies
Upright, slouched, douveted up
Footsteps
Tip toeing, stomping, keeping time
Voices
Monotone, raised, whispering, shouting, grumbling
Feelings
Happy, sad, down, highs and lows
The head of the household
Busying herself in the kitchen
Poet, cocooned in his quarters
Keeping a lid on happenings
Master of seclusion, delusion.
(c) Chris Black. March 2018.

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Heartsong

Walt's Writings

A very special thank you to
my wife Susan for letting me post
her original poetry.

A gift from The Great Spirit
A melody soft and low
Given to man and maiden
Binding hearts and souls

Music felt from deep within
When two hearts beat as one
In perfect harmony they blend
Blessed by Earth, Moon & Sun

In Heaven’s thunder roll the drums
The windswept canyons
Pipes & strings become
From mountain, river & stream
Bells can be heard
All of Nature sings out
The Unspoken Words

So that maiden gentle and warrior strong
Can reach out to each other
When apart for too long
For within them and around them
Resounds the gift of their Heartsong

©Susan Page 2018

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Partly real, part dream writing.

Poets, theirs is the teaching mind
Where they allow perceived thoughts unwind
They teach unknown to themselves
The beauty of keyboard, of pen.

We, like sponges soak up the knowledge they express
The true feelings some confess.
Variation is the spice of life, would you agree?
Whether you read the varied works of Thomas Hardy or Charles Bukowski.
(c) Chris Black. March 2018.

A rain filled day.

Breakfasted;
Later, ate again
Watched through a patio door window
Rain drop fall on rain drop
With pen in hand wrote a little
Ate again
Looked out at leaden skies
Listened as wind whistled through chimneys
Ate again
Interior bright turns to interior night
Landscape the colour of death
Ate again.
Ah! Springtime.
(c) Chris Black. March 2018.

Mary Black : She Moves Through The Fair (A Parade of Posts for St Patrick 4)

The Immortal Jukebox

A Song by Mary Black

A Poem by Eavan Boland

A Painting by Peter Dee

Today one of the definitive Irish Traditional Songs sung by the regal Mary Black and an extraordinarily powerful Poem by an Irish Poet of world stature, Eavan Boland.

The Painting today is by a contemporary Irish Artist, Peter Dee, whose arresting and highly covetable Still Life works are the fruit of deep contemplation and confident technical accomplishment.

More examples of his work can be seen at http://www.peterdee.ie

She Moves Through The Fair is a Song that we will never get to the bottom of.

It contains details of everyday life and a mysterious, swirling, intermingling of the known and supernatural Worlds we all move within.

There are some sorrows, some griefs, that can only be borne through Song being too deep for common speech.

The common speech of hand clapping dealers striking bargains at the fair.

While we move, half-blind…

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Ger Wolfe : The Curra Road (A Parade of Posts for St Patrick 3)

The Immortal Jukebox

A Song by Ger Wolfe

A Poem written and read by Richard Murphy (1927 – 2018)

A Painting by Paul Kelly

Today a farewell homage to one of Ireland’s most treasured Poets – Richard Murphy and what I am sure for many of you will be an introduction to a singer/songwriter particularly close to my own heart, Ger Wolfe, whose stature as an artist has not yet been properly reflected in popular awareness.

The painting today is by a contemporary Irish Artist, Paul Kelly, whose landscapes of County Dublin cast a spell.

You can explore his work further at http://www.paulkellyart.ie

Ger Wolfe in ‘The Curra Road’ has written a song that beautifully captures the sense of being at home and at peace in the physical, emotional and spiritual landscape of Home.

The hallowed Home we always want to carry within us as we walk down other roads on our pilgrimage through Life..

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Traversing the Oceans

Vita Brevis

Submitted by Chris Black

Traversing the oceans.
It lay there baking
In the heat of the noon day sun
Desiccated.

Destined hopefully to be washed out
On the next incoming tide.

Then again perhaps not
Depending on how long it would take
For the proper assistance to arrive on the scene.

Separated from its school
Or maybe frightened by those
Out whale spotting
Why they just can’t be left in peace
To carry on with natures plan.

They have more sense than
To come ashore checking on the antics
Of human kind.


Vita Brevis accepts submissions year-round–send us your best work!
Photo: Fishermen at Sea painting – JMW Turner

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Sinead O’ Connor : The Butcher Boy (A Parade of Posts for St Patrick 2)

The Immortal Jukebox

Today for your delight:

A Song by Sinead O’Connor

A Poem by Geraldine Plunkett Dillon

A Painting by William Orpen

The song today is featured in Neil Jordan’s wonderful Film from 1997, ‘The Butcher Boy’ adapted from Patrick McCabe’s astonishing novel.

In my view Sinead O’Connor has shamanistic gifts as a singer and performer (with all the blessings and trials imposed by such gifts).

A performer like Sinead comes along about as often as apples grow on an ivy tree.

If you want to imagine what it might be to die for Love and have a strong heart surrender to Sinead’s incandescent performance here.

In Dublin Town where I did dwell ….

The Butcher Boy

In Dublin town where I did dwell
A butcher boy I loved so well
He courted me, my life away
And now with me he will not stay

I wish I wish but I wish…

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Luke Kelly : Raglan Road (A Parade of Posts for St Patrick 1)

Time for me to take time out for the week and leave you in the capable hands of Thom Hickey and his Immortal Jukebox, he will be spinning Irish tunes for the week do let him know your thoughts and if you have a favourite he’d be glad to hear about that also – enjoy the week.

The Immortal Jukebox

For the week that’s in it The Immortal Jukebox series A Parade of Posts for St Patrick celebrates Ireland’s glorious heritage in Song, Poetry and Painting.

It seems to me that the, ‘Secret Sign’ has been revealed to generations of Irishmen and Irishwomen and that in response they have blessed us with inspiring voices and visions that will always echo through stone and time.

Today:

A Song from Luke Kelly

A Poem by Flann O’ Brien performed by Eamon Morrissey

A Painting by Jack B Yeats

Staff in hand let’s set off with Luke Kelly’s magisterial performance of Poet Patrick Kavanagh’s great, ‘Raglan Road’.

Luke Kelly was born to Sing.

Born to Sing.

In his singing there is passion pledged.

In his singing there is grief and rue.

In his singing there is enchantment.

In his singing there is Love and the whisper of old ghosts.

In his singing there is…

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Modern times?

The bus shelter has its tenant again tonight
Bedded down inside a rucksack and black plastic bag
Rain sleeting down, running off the inner window of the shelter
The soup run conversation, similar to last night
The night before and previous nights
Gave very little insight into how he was
Health wise or mentally
He would just say, thank you for the food and if the Lord spares me
I’ll see you tomorrow night
The murmur of those passing by must sound like the volume
Is turned up to the highest of decibles
The orange street lighting beaming in on him
Makes life that much more intorable
From his bed for the night
The yacth club, no more than the lenght of two olympic swimming pools away
Hopping with the sound of party revellers
The emptiness, the hunger for life outside the shelter
Comes once 6am arrives
Life at this time finds him under a nearby bridge
Waking to a world unchanged from
Yesterday, yesteryear, the squalk of gulls
Rats doing what rats do
In this town full of voices, nodding heads
The only constants in his life
Fear and the chime of the 24hr town clock.
(c) Chris Black. March 2018.