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Thurles Primroses

Extract from Poem ‘Home, Wounded‘
By Sydney Thompson Dobell

There blows
The first primrose,
Under the bare bank roses.
There is but one,
And the bank is brown,
But soon the children will come down,
The ringing children come singing down,
To pick their Easter posies,
And they’ll spy it out, my beautiful,
Among the bare brier-roses;
And when I sit here again alone,
The bare brown bank will be blind and dull,
Alas for Easter posies!

March 26th, 2020 | Category: Gardening, Poetry | One comment | |

THE FORGE – Seamus Heaney

THE FORGE

By the Late, Great, Poet, Playwright and Translator, Seamus Heaney

All I know is a door into the dark.
Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting;
Inside, the hammered anvil’s short-pitched ring,
The unpredictable fantail of sparks
Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water.
The anvil must be somewhere in the centre,
Horned as a unicorn, at one end and square,
Set there immoveable: an altar
Where he expends himself in shape and music.
Sometimes, leather-aproned, hairs in his nose,
He leans out on the jamb, recalls a clatter
Of hoofs where traffic is flashing in rows;
Then grunts and goes in, with a slam and flick
To beat real iron out, to work the bellows.

The End

March 6th, 2020 | Category: Community News, Poetry | Leave a comment | |

A Poem For Polling Day

A Poem For Polling Day

Poem Courtesy of Thurles Author & Poet Tom Ryan ©

I’ll cast my vote for A, – no B.
Then maybe I should go for C ?
Or D or E?
We’ll see!
They’re all the bleeding one to me.
But what if I don’t vote at all,
And sit and just plain watch it all?
The worst of two or four or three
Will do the devil, just you see.
Or worse, we’ll have rank anarchy.
And so I’ll vote for one and all,
And then I’ll boo them in the Dáil,
Independents, Labour, FF, FG
And thus ensure democracy.
I’m only just a common man,
But on polling day I’m superman,
Not fooled by promises of jam,
And so I’ll vote accordingly.
My number one and two and three
Will go to one who’s best for me!
I’ve sized them up, oh, what a lark,
They all should be in Phoenix Park,
As half of them are in the dark.
The others blind, you see.
End

Tom Ryan, “Iona”, Rahealty, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.

January 13th, 2020 | Category: Community News, Poetry | One comment | |

Wishing Our Readers & Supporters A Happy & Prosperous New Year In 2020.

Let’s Drink a Toast to Days Gone By!

“Auld Lang Syne,” is a song posing a rhetorical question and whose well-known melody is synonymous with each New Year’s Eve. This Scots-language poem, later set to the tune of a traditional folk song, was first published by poet Robert Burns, which he attributed to having obtained from an old man, but noting that it was a traditional Scottish song.

Translated literally, ‘Auld Lang Syne’ means ‘old long since’, or for ‘olden times’, and is traditionally used to bid farewell to the old year; at the stroke of midnight on each New Year’s Day. The International Scouting movement in some countries also use this musical refrain to close their large gatherings at national or international levels.

Lyrics hereunder, attempt to translate from the lesser known old Scottish dialect.

Auld Lang Syne

Written by Scottish Poet Robert [“Rabbie”] Burns in 1788

Should auld (old) acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne? (old times)

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my jo, (my dear),
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be (buy) your pint-stoup! (Cup)
and surely I’ll be (buy) mine!
And we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne. [Repeat Chorus]

We twa hae (We two have) run about the breas (the slopes).
and pou’d the gowans fine; (and picked the daisies fine)
But we’ve wander’d mony (many) a weary fit, (weary foot),
sin’ (since) auld lang syne. [Repeat Chorus]

We twa hae paidl’d in the burn, (two have paddled in the stream),
frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d (broad have roared)
sin’ (since) auld lang syne. [Repeat Chorus]

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere! (friend)
and gie’s (give me a hand) o’ thine!
And we’ll tak’ a right gude-willie waught, (a good-will draught)
for auld lang syne. [Repeat Chorus]

We would like to take this opportunity to wish you, our many readers and supporters, a Very Happy and a Prosperous New Year in 2020.


“Go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo arís.”
[Translated from the Irish: “May we be alive this time next year!”]

December 31st, 2019 | Category: Community News, Education, Poetry, Video | 4 comments | |

Rainy Nights In Thurles

Rainy Nights


Poem by Irene Thompson

I like the town on rainy nights
When everything is wet.
When all the town has magic lights
And streets of shining jet.

When all the rain about the town
Is like a looking-glass,
And all the lights are upside down
Below me as I pass.

In all the pools are velvet skies,
And down the dazzling street,
A fairy city gleams and lies
In beauty at my feet.

END

December 8th, 2019 | Category: Photography, Poetry | 2 comments | |
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