Castle Writers
Out of the Cocoon
Athlone 2020
Poetry in my Life My first experience of poetry was hearing my Grandmother reciting from memory as I sat beside her by the fire. I was too young to memorize many of the lines , but I can clearly recall her voice, and how she would repeat the last line of a verse as she paused to remember the next. One of her favourites was ‘Lord Ullins Daughter’ who ran away with her lover , was chased by her angry father and was drowned. It began A chieftan to the Highlands bound Cries , Boatman do not tarry, And I’ll give thee a silver pound To row us o’er the ferry. And the last lines ran The waters wild went o’er his child And he was left lamenting. At primary school, we learned many poems and recited them in class. We loved the jaunty rhythm of ~Up the airy Mountain~ and ~I remember, I remember the house where I was born~ and we felt the wistful longing in
~The old Woman of the Roads~ ~Oh To Have a Little House…~
At secondary school the English course did not give a lot of space to Poetry, unlike the present day. Mostly it was studied with exams in view. There was a section called “Appreciation of Poetry”. It was something about which we read other people’s opinions, without forming many of our own. Fortunately in later years , I came to have a real appreciation of poetry. It is so much easier to experience a great variety of poetry because of the availability of books and the opportunity of hearing recordings by the authors , or by readers with special expertise in recitation . We can hear Seamus Heaney in his gritty Northern accent , and Brendan Kennelly in 19
