I praise
The gifts of the river.
Its shiftless and glittering
Re-telling of a city
#EavanBoland
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How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder that a whole city—arches, pillars, colonnades, not to mention vehicles and animals—had all one fine day gone under? I mean, I said to myself, the world was small then. Surely a great city must have been missed? I miss our old city — white pepper, white pudding, you and I meeting under fanlights and low skies to go home in it. Maybe what really happened is this: the old fable-makers searched hard for a word to convey that what is gone is gone forever and never found it. And so, in the best traditions of where we come from, they gave their sorrow a name and drowned it.
#Poetry
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#EavanBoland
Atlantis - A Lost Sonnet by Eavan Boland
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@sundaymiscellany.bsky.social
More people than one can imagine in the liminal space - In-Between by Beth Kilkenny #Newcastle #Dublin #EavanBoland @rteradio1.bsky.social
Have been trying to get the local bookshop to stock more Boland.
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A 1996 photograph of a smiling Eavan Boland
Today is Poet Eavan Boland's birthday #OTD.
Eavan Boland (1944-2020)
Quarantine: poets.org/poem/quarant...
Atlantis - A Lost Sonnet: poets.org/poem/atlanti...
#MuchMissed #IrishWomenPoets #EavanBoland
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"Poetry begins where language starts: in the shadows and accidents of one person’s life."
Poems: www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/eavan-...
✒ #EavanBoland, Irish poet and academic, was #BOTD 24 September 1944. #Poetry #Litetature
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At first I was land. I lay on my back to be fields and when I turned on my side I was a hill under freezing stars. I did not see. I was seen. Night and day words fell on me. Seeds. Raindrops. Chips of frost. From one of them I learned my name. I rose up. I remembered it. Now I could tell my story. It was different from the story told about me. And now also it was spring. I could see the wound I had left in the land by leaving it. I travelled west. Once there I looked with so much love at every field as it unfolded its rusted wheel and its pram chassis and at the gorse- bright distances I had been that they misunderstood me. Come back to us they said Trust me I whispered.
#Poetry
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#BlueskyPoetry
#EavanBoland
Mother Ireland by Eavan Boland
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Sex and history. And skin and bone. And the oppression of Sunday afternoon. Bells called the faithful to devotion. I was still at school and on my own. And walked and walked and sheltered from the rain. The patriot was made of drenched stone. His lips were still speaking. The gun he held had just killed someone. I looked up. And looked at him again. He stared past me without recognition. I moved my lips and wondered how the rain would taste if my tongue were made of stone. And wished it was. And whispered so that no one could hear it but him. Make me a heroine.
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Heroic by Eavan Boland
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'Tree is Real Silver' textworksite.com/2022/11/14/t...
First published Poetry Ireland Review N°138, An Eavan Boland Special Issue. Editor, @nessao.bsky.social
journals, and: bibliography, and: publication notes: textworksite.com/journals-bib...
#EavanBoland #Poems
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Poet Eavan Boland
I am delighted that the renaming of TCD Library to honour poet Eavan Boland will occur quite close to #IWD25: www.tcd.ie/news_events/... #Celebrations #TCD #EavanBoland #IrishWomenPoets
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The Eavan Boland Library at TCD will be dedicated in early March 2025. Time to re-share this essay at PNR Review, www.pnreview.co.uk/cgi-bin/scri...
#EavanBoland #PatrickKavanagh #Epic #TheIliad
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“On the gift of The Birds of America by John James Audubon” by Eavan Boland.
#Alt4Me
#Poetry #IrishWriters #EavanBoland #Audubon #Birds
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A piece of text with the sentence highlighted, “But I felt there would be — and there is — a very stubborn and privileged perspective which would see male poets as Irish poets and women poets as women poets."
From "An Interview with Eavan Boland,” Jody Allen-Randolph, Eavan Boland, pg. 124.
Irish University Review, Vol. 23, No. 1, Special Issue: Eavan Boland (Spring - Summer, 1993), pp. 117-130 (14 pages)
www.jstor.org/stable/25484...
#WomenPoets #EavanBoland #IrishPoetry
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Eavan Boland’s women
www.irishtimes.com/history/cent...
#IrishWomen #WomensSuffrage #UnionOrganization #EavanBoland
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'The light is in its element of Autumn'.
#Joy #EavanBoland #Art
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'The light is in its element of Autumn'.
#Joy #EavanBoland #Art
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"I couldn't accept the possibility that the life of the woman would not,or could not,be named in the poetry of my own nation." #EavanBoland
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