Des Donnelly
I am an Irish poet born 1955 in County Tyrone in north Ireland.
I am an Irish poet born 1955 in County Tyrone in north Ireland.
I have a special regard and admiration for the poet scorned or persecuted in their lifetime, among these are the Russian, Marina Tsvetaeva, the Czech poet Vladimir Holan and the Monaghan man, Patrick Kavanagh. I take only joy from the recognition awarded to Irish poets John Montague and Seamus Heaney and like many many thousands of people globally I gain great pleasure and inspiration from their poetry.
I am particularly interested in the Russian Acmeist movement and especially the Russian poet, Anna Akhmatova. I can say that I had not read anything until I read these lines from her poem Requiem;-
"In those years only the dead smiled,
Glad to be at rest:
And Leningrad city swayed like
A needless appendix to its prisons."
My focus is on the immediacy of poetry, the emotion or reaction consigned to paper and indicative of the moment of love or hate or sadness or the mix of conflicting emotions that were the inspiration. A little of what I write I like and often readers of my poems express genuine appreciation..
.... what more can be expected in these transient times.
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"Poets are not professional," said Akhmatova. "Yes, we know that.
It's like a camera. Like a nonexistent camera. They sit and fish; perhaps once a century they will catch something. They mainly fish for only an intonation; everything else is there. Painters, actors, singers these are all professionals; poets are catchers of intonations. If a poet wrote a poem today he has no idea whether he will write one tomorrow or really ever again."
My work has been translated into Turkish by Dr. Nesrin Eruysal, published in an anthology of Co Tyrone poets and via Staxtes, Right Hand Pointing, Poetseers, New Mirage Journal. Years back I was a recipient of an award from the Arts Council for a collaboration with textile artist Clare McCarroll.
Why Poems and Posts Come and Go
Readers have asked why poems and posts seem to come and go, as if words in an electronic medium should never be recalled. For me, writing has ebbs: some poems float in, others drift out, or sink in order to deepen. Silence is part of composition. This blog is not a promise of permanence; it is a record of attention. I remove work when it no longer says exactly what I mean, or when a single word or line insists on being changed. It may seem fickle or cavalier, whatever..
Pieces vanish not because they are rejected, but because they are unfinished in ways that time or more attention may resolve. What you see here is a small percentage of everything I have written. Will it ever be ready? Probably not. Much of it will ultimately go to archive.
The posting frequency here is somewhat haphazard but thank you all for your support nonetheless!
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But..
Is poetry not like that — a view of history or events that may not resonate with your worldview / ipso facto a challenge ?
..if you wish to oppose it, state it publicly..
I welcome 'encouragement' from those not fighting with those words keeping them awake at night..
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Des Donnelly @ Delphi  such a moment in ones life to stand in the circle at Delphi and listen to the shimmering heat. |
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My Famous Last Words - philosophical reflections and creative moments. Each piece is stochastically presented in English, French, Spanish
My speculative fiction archive documenting humanity's 2025-2055 transition.. or thereabouts
