The Viaduct Bards: Caught in the Net 95 - Poetry by Emer Davis: The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion CAUGHT IN THE NET 95 - POETRY BY EMER DAVIS Series Editor - Jim Bennett _________________________...
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Friday 30 December 2011
Wednesday 28 December 2011
Caught in the Net 95 - Poetry by Emer Davis
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
CAUGHT IN THE NET 95 - POETRY BY EMER DAVIS
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Email Poetry Kit - info@poetrykit.org - if you would like to tell us what you think. We are looking for other poets to feature in this series, and are open to submissions. Please send one poem and a short bio to - info@poetrykit.org
Thank you for taking the time to read Caught in the Net. Our other magazine s are Transparent Words ands Poetry Kit Magazine, which are webzines on the Poetry Kit site and this can be found at - http://www.poetrykit.org/
CAUGHT IN THE NET 95 - POETRY BY EMER DAVIS
Series Editor - Jim Bennett
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Introduction by Jim Bennett
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Introduction by Jim Bennett
Hello. Welcome to the next in the series of CITN featured poets. We will be looking at the work of a different poet in each edition and I hope it will help our readers to discover some new and exciting writing. This series is open to all to submit and I am now keen to read new work for this series.
You can join the CITN mailing list at - http://www.poetrykit.org/pkl/index.htm and following the links for Caught in the Net.
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Mother and daughter picking shells along the beach we rinsed them in the sea and watched tarnished pastels shining through, small glimmers of light reflected in my tears from; Requiem by Emer Davis |
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CONTENTS
1 - BIOGRAPHY
2 – POETRY
1 - BIOGRAPHY
2 – POETRY
The Crossing
Coming Home
Requiem
Chain Event
Keel
Kill Your Television
The Kiss
Bonfire
To Tear Your Breath Away
The Long Goodbye
3 - PUBLICATION HISTORY
4 - AFTERWORD
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1 – BIOGRAPHY: Emer Davis
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1 – BIOGRAPHY: Emer Davis
Emer Davis grew up in Achill Island
______________________________________________________________
2 - POETRY
The Crossing
From our outpost we tiptoed
across this green divide
rifles in hand.
A ragged allied force
sleep walking this unknown land
we marched on,
hoping to smell
the sweet scent of summer.
Fields pockmarked by war
stood before us.
Bloodied and betrayed
empty shells littered the scorched ground.
A soft light flickered through
as we retraced our steps
on the relentless road
of an unnerving peace.
Coming Home (Already published - Revival 2009)
Slipping from one hand to another
This case holds the secrets of journeys
Made by one family for over a century
It lay on the rack overhead as
The train travelled west
Towards home.
A young girl stood at the gates
Holding onto the worn handles,
Waving goodbye to her family,
Stepping inside to a new world
Of order and submission.
Remnants of her early life
Locked in this tanned leather box
She entered these cloistered walls,
Leading a nomadic existence
Shifting through a maze of cultures
Over the intervening years.
Letters and old photographs
Stuffed into side pockets,
Plain cotton shirts and brown skirts
Folded neatly in two piles,
A dark face carved in wood
Shrouded in a woollen blanket,
Yielding to a recurring doubt,
She is returning from a distant land.
Stirred by her passion to be free
From the shackles of an ordered faith
This tanned leather suitcase
Creased over time
Chronicled her life story
In a dark unknown landscape.
Slipping from one hand to another
This case holds the secrets of journeys,
Her years of service now ending,
It lay on the rack overhead as
The train travelled west towards home,
Returning to leave this cloistered life behind
Requiem (Published in Boyne Berries September 2010)
Yellow crocuses are bursting forth
around the gravestone
where your name will be etched.
There is nothing to draw me back home,
the final threads of our lives snapped apart.
I sit by your side
and listen to the sirens
moving away in the distance.
Silence descends around us,
Alone at last, words are lost
in this vast open space.
I look around me
and see snowdrops shivering,
their petals wasting away in the pale sun
as you were in those final days.
Mother and daughter
picking shells along the beach
we rinsed them in the sea
and watched tarnished pastels shining through,
small glimmers of light reflected in my tears
I see your hand reach out to me
as we skipped along the water's edge,
grey froth on our shoes
we watched the trawlers come and go.
And now I sit here beside you
and listen to the faint hum of traffic
passing us by,
Alone at last I can hear your voice
filling the gap.
Chain Event (published by Revival Oct 2010)
You wake to the warmth of his breath,
the careless touch of his lips
tickling you in the shadow of early dawn,
a clement haze around
flesh merging with flesh,
clasped together in silent order
your unending figure
moulded by his frame
you lounge, eyes closed,
listening to creased sheets
slide to the floor.
Damaged and corroded
you hold onto a gift
as fragile tarnished links
slip through your fingers
connecting to another time,
binding you to another place,
secrets clenched
in a scratched chain.
Keel (Already published - Boyne Berries 2009)
Under the moon we danced,
Danced to the rhythm
Of the waves fading in and out,
Moving in time to the shore’s
Darkening horizon.
Tingling in the evening light
Our silhouette
Caressing the cool air,
We sink deeper into the shore,
Sand sifting under our feet.
We whisper
Embracing the moment
When the full moon
Captures our light.
Kill Your Television (Title poem of published book – Kill Your Television)
Kill your television
that's what he said
soap freak
kill your television
I didn't have to
it blew up.
Now I listen to the radio
he said
kill your radio
chart freak
kill your radio
I didn't have to
somebody stole it.
Now I read books
he said
what are you reading?
I look up and mumble a name
he smiles
and I start reading again.
I come home from work
a new television sits in the corner
he stares at the screen all day
all week all year.
I shout
kill your television
soap freak
kill your television
that's what he used to say.
The Kiss
Name tag pinned
to her winter coat,
the kiss still warm
on her flushed cheek,
on a hot September morning
she watched her mother
walk away.
All day they passed
a continuous stream
on the suburban platform,
teachers in armbands,
loud speakers replacing
the hurried murmur
of her mother's voice.
Blinds pulled down,
hot and sweaty
in the dim blue lights,
her eyes flickering
into the blackness,
shunting from one station to another
deep in a foreign landscape.
They stood in the village hall
surrounded by an eager crowd
waiting for the auction to begin.
Her stomach rumbling
with each child slipping away
into darkness.
Doors opened and closed
until all were housed.
She stood in a stranger's kitchen
and held onto her bag,
surrendering to
strange voices and faces.
Rereading those early letters,
a hurried scrawl
with no news of home,
cradling her doll
in her arms,
she remembered the warmth
of that last kiss.
She strayed
from her mother's memory
abandoned by war
and her family.
Her mother's kiss drifting away.
She stands alone
on the site of her old home,
rubble,
a few bricks,
a saucepan,
an old cushion remained
underneath.
She stands alone
with no trace
of what she left behind
on that day,
when she held her mother's hand.
Bonfire
An orange glow
streaking across the horizon
she gazes at these bonfires
lighting up an empty sky.
Alone for one hour
to witness a still night
as beacons of light
flicker gently in the falling dusk.
Recalling evenings of her past,
timid cows shuffling home
down boreens
strewn with briars
and the low hum of crickets
and an autumn breeze
rustling in the closing hour.
Leaning against an old wooden fence
she listens to the faint hush
across this barren landscape
stripped of all its beauty
darkness hides all traces
of the constant shelling.
To Tear Your Breath Away
Sand dunes rolled in front of her,
its twirling contours
unravelling before her eyes,
a continuous wave
misleading her down
unknown territory
she heard the ghost wind swirling
as troops moved forward.
She stood by her truck
waiting for the order to come,
this lunar landscape
of windswept sand
blowing in her face
watching the battle
played out from a distance,
match stick soldiers
charging to the end
tearing at each other
until there is no more noise.
An uneasy silence descends
as an amber glow
casts a lingering shadow
across this dust bowl.
She drives across the erg
picking her way through
dead bodies and empty shells,
defeated figures, heads hung low,
returning to their camp.
Carefully looking for some trace of life,
fingers twitching in the dying sun,
bruised faces staring at her
a soft moan, a frail whisper,
she holds his head
releasing all his pain,
loading these broken souls
onto her truck.
A cold wind surfacing
across this gritty graveyard
she leaves behind
old and new acquaintances.
Young corpses interred
on this vast desert,
a collection of metal tags
jingling on the dashboard,
a faint rustle of sand vipers
peeping above the earth
as the trucks rolled away,
this ritual replayed across
this barren landscape,
all that is mortal is gone
tearing your breath away.
___________________________________
The Long Goodbye
Snowdrops wavering
on a cold winter’s morning,
a pale sun weakened by falling flakes
slowly rises in the east.
Cloaked in whiteness
and surrounded by old headstones,
she ambles gingerly among ominous graves,
scanning names etched in stone.
Under stark trees
icy drops dripping from bare branches,
she holds onto her only memento
from her distant past.
This creased old black and white photograph
of a man in uniform
fading with every touch.
Today she walks among these invisible heroes
searching for his name,
wondering what he felt when it ended.
No more screams
No shouts
No falling debris
No bullets
Or sirens piercing your eardrums
No more lightening attacks
On the horizon to shake you from your sleep.
Her muffled despair cried out
as their clandestine affair ebbed away,
evaporating into a distant past.
A muted stillness permeated
when the emergency ended.
This old print clasped in her chapped hands
remained buried along with her voiceless story.
Standing at his grave,
she remembers a gallant youth leaving home.
She has waited fifty years
to see his name.
She stands alone, now, as she did back then,
watching early buds gradually
blooming in the morning sun.
_____________________________________________
3 - Publishing History
Coming Home (Already published - Revival 2009)
Requiem (to be published in Boyne Berries September 2010)
Chain Event (published by Revival Oct 2010)
Keel (Already published - Boyne Berries 2009)
Kill Your Television (Title poem of published book – Kill Your Television)
_____________________________________________
4 - Afterword
Email Poetry Kit - info@poetrykit.org - if you would like to tell us what you think. We are looking for other poets to feature in this series, and are open to submissions. Please send one poem and a short bio to - info@poetrykit.org
Thank you for taking the time to read Caught in the Net. Our other magazine s are Transparent Words ands Poetry Kit Magazine, which are webzines on the Poetry Kit site and this can be found at - http://www.poetrykit.org/
Thursday 7 July 2011
'It's Hard To Be Mistreated' MEMPHIS MINNIE (1936) Memphis Blues Guitar ...
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
'Nothing In Rambling' MEMPHIS MINNIE (1940) Memphis Blues Guitar Legend
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Friday 15 April 2011
The Viaduct Bards: Abu Dhabi Dub - Womad
The Viaduct Bards: Abu Dhabi Dub - Womad: "The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion Last weekend's Womad Festival in Abu Dhabi was a great way to wind up two weeks of holidays in the d..."
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Abu Dhabi Dub - Womad
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Last weekend's Womad Festival in Abu Dhabi was a great way to wind up two weeks of holidays in the desert which I now call home. It was such a family and child friendly event with children still playing on the beach in the dark after midnight, while their parents danced barefooted to Jimmy Cliff in the warm sultry breeze. With children's workshops over the three days making camel head dresses, falcon hats and cobras culminating in a children's procession on Saturday evening and food tasting from around the world, the Corniche was a melting pot of different cultures merging as one, as they experienced great music and art.
For me the highlight was the Trispan Tent with its large rugs, luxuriant red and gold cushions where we lounged and listened to music over the weekend. On Friday night I was swept off my feet by an Egyptian band 'El Tanbura' who cooked, sang and danced to a delighted audience. Singing old and new songs. One song was over 700 hundred years old - so it was appropriate that the oldest person in the band sang it for us. It was the best cookery demonstration I have ever been at.
By Saturday evening we spent most of our evening there. Iseult, my four year old daughter followed the colourful procession with the Dhol Foundation drummers gathering a large band of Indian expats on its way. She learned a few reggae moves from Ripton Lindsay who also performed a live version of Abu Dhabi Dub with the children to finish off his dance workshop and did some drumming with the Dubai Drummers. She played with other children making sand castles while we sipped coffee and basked in all the balmy cultural fringe events in the tent.
No alcohol was needed to enjoy this event by the beach. Although I did manage to fit in a pint after Jimmy Cliff's performance in one of the nearby hotel bars - the only place where one can drink in Abu Dhabi. The only drawback was I got two large mosquito bits on my leg. However I can't wait for next year's festival and I will make sure I have my insect repellent with me.
Photographs by Sean Brady
seanbradypix7@gmail.com
Last weekend's Womad Festival in Abu Dhabi was a great way to wind up two weeks of holidays in the desert which I now call home. It was such a family and child friendly event with children still playing on the beach in the dark after midnight, while their parents danced barefooted to Jimmy Cliff in the warm sultry breeze. With children's workshops over the three days making camel head dresses, falcon hats and cobras culminating in a children's procession on Saturday evening and food tasting from around the world, the Corniche was a melting pot of different cultures merging as one, as they experienced great music and art.
For me the highlight was the Trispan Tent with its large rugs, luxuriant red and gold cushions where we lounged and listened to music over the weekend. On Friday night I was swept off my feet by an Egyptian band 'El Tanbura' who cooked, sang and danced to a delighted audience. Singing old and new songs. One song was over 700 hundred years old - so it was appropriate that the oldest person in the band sang it for us. It was the best cookery demonstration I have ever been at.
By Saturday evening we spent most of our evening there. Iseult, my four year old daughter followed the colourful procession with the Dhol Foundation drummers gathering a large band of Indian expats on its way. She learned a few reggae moves from Ripton Lindsay who also performed a live version of Abu Dhabi Dub with the children to finish off his dance workshop and did some drumming with the Dubai Drummers. She played with other children making sand castles while we sipped coffee and basked in all the balmy cultural fringe events in the tent.
No alcohol was needed to enjoy this event by the beach. Although I did manage to fit in a pint after Jimmy Cliff's performance in one of the nearby hotel bars - the only place where one can drink in Abu Dhabi. The only drawback was I got two large mosquito bits on my leg. However I can't wait for next year's festival and I will make sure I have my insect repellent with me.
Photographs by Sean Brady
seanbradypix7@gmail.com
Saturday 2 April 2011
The Viaduct Bards: Achill
The Viaduct Bards: Achill: "The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion ACHILL Rhododendron petals gives way to the meandering bog, pink blossoms whispering a wild bloom in..."
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards: Kill Your Television Launch in Dublin
The Viaduct Bards: Kill Your Television Launch in Dublin: "The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion Tom Mathews, Cartoonist & Poet introducing Emer at the launch of Kill Your Television in Grogans P..."
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards: From Rag to Riches
The Viaduct Bards: From Rag to Riches: "The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion From Rag to Riches - A Story of Abu Dhabi by Mohammed Al-Fahim was written in 1995 and follows the tra..."
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards: New Poem - Name Tag
The Viaduct Bards: New Poem - Name Tag: "The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion Check out my new poem in Message in a Bottle Poetry Magazine:www.messageinabottlepoetrymagazine.com w..."
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards: Bargain Rail in Spring edition of Easily Inspired
The Viaduct Bards: Bargain Rail in Spring edition of Easily Inspired: "The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion Subject: Fashion Fiction Update (UPDATE) Hi, I just wanted to provide 2 updates a..."
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Bargain Rail in Spring edition of Easily Inspired
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Subject: Fashion Fiction Update (UPDATE)
Hi,
I just wanted to provide 2 updates about the Fashion Fiction issue of
Easily inspired:
1) The Fashion Fiction issue is being sold at Bluestockings book store (
http://bluestockings.com/) in Manhattan for $10. It was approved for their
special "zine" section! Check out the attached photo to see it on the
shelf!
2) Many of you have requested the electronic version. This evening I had a
chance to stop and upload it:). Feel free to share with friends & family.
LInk & embed code below.
link: http://issuu.com/studiownyc/
embed code: <div><object style="width:420px;height:
name="movie" value="
http://static.issuu.com/
" /><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"/><param name="menu"
value="false"/><embed src="
http://static.issuu.com/
type="application/x-shockwave-
style="width:420px;height:
flashvars="mode=embed&
</object><div style="width:420px;text-align:
http://issuu.com/studiownyc/
" target="_blank">Open publication</a> - Free <a href="http://issuu.com"
target="_blank">publishing</a> - <a href="http://issuu.com/search?
" target="_blank">More fashion</a></div></div>
Let me know if you have any questions. Thanks again for your creative
contributions!
Lesley
--
Lesley W.
P: 646.401.3072
creativecookie@me.com
Follow Creative Cookie on Twitter @creativecookie
blog:
www.thecreativecookie.net
zine:
www.easilyinspired.net
(Embedded image moved to file: pic32631.jpg)
Hi,
I just wanted to provide 2 updates about the Fashion Fiction issue of
Easily inspired:
1) The Fashion Fiction issue is being sold at Bluestockings book store (
http://bluestockings.com/) in Manhattan for $10. It was approved for their
special "zine" section! Check out the attached photo to see it on the
shelf!
2) Many of you have requested the electronic version. This evening I had a
chance to stop and upload it:). Feel free to share with friends & family.
LInk & embed code below.
link: http://issuu.com/studiownyc/
embed code: <div><object style="width:420px;height:
name="movie" value="
http://static.issuu.com/
" /><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"/><param name="menu"
value="false"/><embed src="
http://static.issuu.com/
type="application/x-shockwave-
style="width:420px;height:
flashvars="mode=embed&
</object><div style="width:420px;text-align:
http://issuu.com/studiownyc/
" target="_blank">Open publication</a> - Free <a href="http://issuu.com"
target="_blank">publishing</a> - <a href="http://issuu.com/search?
" target="_blank">More fashion</a></div></div>
Let me know if you have any questions. Thanks again for your creative
contributions!
Lesley
--
Lesley W.
P: 646.401.3072
creativecookie@me.com
Follow Creative Cookie on Twitter @creativecookie
blog:
www.thecreativecookie.net
zine:
www.easilyinspired.net
(Embedded image moved to file: pic32631.jpg)
Wednesday 30 March 2011
New Poem - Name Tag
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Check out my new poem in Message in a Bottle Poetry Magazine:www.messageinabottlepoetrymagazine.com
www.messageinabottlepoetrymagazine.com
Check out my new poem in Message in a Bottle Poetry Magazine:www.messageinabottlepoetrymagazine.com
www.messageinabottlepoetrymagazine.com
From Rag to Riches
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
From Rag to Riches - A Story of Abu Dhabi by Mohammed Al-Fahim was written in 1995 and follows the transformation of Abu Dhabi from a Bedouin society into a booming economy in 30 years. In 1960 Abu Dhabi was an impoverished community without electricity, roads, medical care or education. It is essential reading for anyone wanting to live and work in Abu Dhabi, providing an insight into the Emirati culture and their unique relationship with the expat community which make up 80% of the population in Abu Dhabi. The final chapter Beyond Our Dreams looks towards the future and 15 years later I live in this city which was full of hope, faith and perseverance back in 1995. Today its a city that realises the importance of moving away from its dependence on oil and diversifying into new markets. Now tourism, the environment, culture, arts and the financial sector are the buzz words in this fast moving city. And yet it still retains its old charm with the old quarters of the city pulsating with life while the cranes are dotted along every street corner. I welcome the challenge of getting to know this city over the next few years.
From Rag to Riches - A Story of Abu Dhabi by Mohammed Al-Fahim was written in 1995 and follows the transformation of Abu Dhabi from a Bedouin society into a booming economy in 30 years. In 1960 Abu Dhabi was an impoverished community without electricity, roads, medical care or education. It is essential reading for anyone wanting to live and work in Abu Dhabi, providing an insight into the Emirati culture and their unique relationship with the expat community which make up 80% of the population in Abu Dhabi. The final chapter Beyond Our Dreams looks towards the future and 15 years later I live in this city which was full of hope, faith and perseverance back in 1995. Today its a city that realises the importance of moving away from its dependence on oil and diversifying into new markets. Now tourism, the environment, culture, arts and the financial sector are the buzz words in this fast moving city. And yet it still retains its old charm with the old quarters of the city pulsating with life while the cranes are dotted along every street corner. I welcome the challenge of getting to know this city over the next few years.
Monday 28 March 2011
Kill Your Television Launch in Dublin
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
Tom Mathews, Cartoonist & Poet introducing Emer at the launch of Kill Your Television in Grogans Pub - September 2010.
Achill
The Viaduct Bards - Poetry in Motion
ACHILL
Rhododendron petals gives way
to the meandering bog,
pink blossoms whispering
a wild bloom in the wooded grove.
Drifting towards the sea
curious coves slowly
reveal their secrets to me,
shrouded by cliffs and amethyst
I am surrounded by a trickling of waves
intruding on my seclusion
and releasing a mottled force within me.
Basking sharks lingering idly in the bay
with multi-coloured pebbles and fractured shells
dotted along the shore, children delight
in these hidden treasures as I once did.
Deserted lives invisible on Slievemore
with empty stone dwellings retracing
the dead secrets of a lost generation,
moulded in word and colour
brisk clouds and misty rain descends,
inspiring the muse.
This poem appeared in Kill Your Television - a collection of 60 poems by Emer Davis published in 2010 and launched in Achill Island in October 2010. It is available on createspace.com, amazon.com, in Easons in Drogheda, BooksUpstairs & Sweny's Pharmacy in Dublin, various outlets on Achill Island and in the National Museum of Ireland - Country Life, Castlebar.
This is where I spent my youth and it has provided me with a kaleidescope of images over the years. No matter what part of the world I have been in, when I look out a window I can conjure up the images of my childhood and see the clear blue waters rippling across the shore, unlocking a stream of words.
ACHILL
Rhododendron petals gives way
to the meandering bog,
pink blossoms whispering
a wild bloom in the wooded grove.
Drifting towards the sea
curious coves slowly
reveal their secrets to me,
shrouded by cliffs and amethyst
I am surrounded by a trickling of waves
intruding on my seclusion
and releasing a mottled force within me.
Basking sharks lingering idly in the bay
with multi-coloured pebbles and fractured shells
dotted along the shore, children delight
in these hidden treasures as I once did.
Deserted lives invisible on Slievemore
with empty stone dwellings retracing
the dead secrets of a lost generation,
moulded in word and colour
brisk clouds and misty rain descends,
inspiring the muse.
This poem appeared in Kill Your Television - a collection of 60 poems by Emer Davis published in 2010 and launched in Achill Island in October 2010. It is available on createspace.com, amazon.com, in Easons in Drogheda, BooksUpstairs & Sweny's Pharmacy in Dublin, various outlets on Achill Island and in the National Museum of Ireland - Country Life, Castlebar.
This is where I spent my youth and it has provided me with a kaleidescope of images over the years. No matter what part of the world I have been in, when I look out a window I can conjure up the images of my childhood and see the clear blue waters rippling across the shore, unlocking a stream of words.
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