Lockdown Liberties Writers Corner

We recently set up a small private writing group, just a few of us to start with... a safe space where we can write, do spoken word, texts, songs and poems. We will be adding to this post as the writing flows so keep tuned.

If you would like to contribute email us at info@atdireland.ie, every voice counts 🙂

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Walking through the woods today, there were two of us on an overnight camping fishing trip. We looked for a clearing to pitch our tents. We stop at a clearing its open and flat ground; the dark was creeping in slow. So, we got set up and retired to the tents for the night. Morning came and we could not believe we were right on the river’s edge.

We set up the rods, bait the and cast them in the river, cast after cast failed the catch anything here. We’ll move up a bit. We set up right under a massive tree. Cast the rods in here to see does the luck change.Just the we, watch this little colour bird standing on a perch in the tree over the river. Birds eye view. The bird waited then dropped off its perch and seconds later, its back on its perch, the fish is still wriggling so a quick bang off the tree and the bird has sushi. The two boys watched in awe every time that bird moved it got a fish. And how deft he dives from the sky to swoop down to nab the rewards.

The lads caught nothing. They discussed this little bird on the way home, why was he able to get the fish that easy. It’s the Kingfisher you just witness.

By Philip Kenny
Dublin, Ireland

 

 

Looking out to the world, trying to find a word. 

Thinking is there someone looking in at me. Oh what I’d give to be free.

The biggest prison can be your head, like the window are we a pain. To think with my heart or my brain.

What about both? Can I feel with my head and think with my heart? Is the world looking at me, through my window? Or am I looking at them?

Thinking oh to be free.

By Andrew Kelly
Dublin, Ireland

 

 
Black 47
 
The crop is bad.
No spuds to be had. 
Outlook bleak. 
Hungry and weak.
The crop is bad.
The plague is here. 
A sigh and tear. 
For hunger and fear. 
The crop is dead. 
Blackend is the beet. 
Hungry dying in the street.
With nothing to eat. 
Corn for the rich.
The impoverished suffer, impoverished suffer
 
By Philip Kenny 
Dublin, Ireland 
 

 

What I can’t understand is we are brought into this world all the same way but the person next door to you could have a different life compared to you. What gives the people in charge to say I’m not going to give you what you need but I’ll give it to your neighbour.

I’ve grown and I’ve lived in a lot of places nearly all over this country and I’ve been placed on the streets and my neighbour in houses and good jobs why can’t it be all the same for all people not when you walk down streets such as Grafton street here in Dublin you see homeless tapping and guards telling them to move and then you see someone the same age walking out of shops with nearly 6 or 7 bags and trust me it’s not cheap why can’t the people in power see this it’s like they are not on the same eye level as people that have to make their homes for the night out of cardboard from these big shops and sleep on the streets I just can’t understand this it’s time to open your eyes look at the figures that ye get daily.

By Andrew Kelly
Dublin, Ireland

 

 

What I can’t understand is we are brought into this world all the same way but the person next door to you could have a different life compared to you. What gives the people in charge to say I’m not going to give you what you need but I’ll give it to your neighbour.

I’ve grown and I’ve lived in a lot of places nearly all over this country and I’ve been placed on the streets and my neighbour in houses and good jobs why can’t it be all the same for all people not when you walk down streets such as Grafton street here in Dublin you see homeless tapping and guards telling them to move and then you see someone the same age walking out of shops with nearly 6 or 7 bags and trust me it’s not cheap why can’t the people in power see this it’s like they are not on the same eye level as people that have to make their homes for the night out of cardboard from these big shops and sleep on the streets I just can’t understand this it’s time to open your eyes look at the figures that ye get daily.

By Andrew Kelly
Dublin, Ireland

 

 

What I can’t understand is we are brought into this world all the same way but the person next door to you could have a different life compared to you. What gives the people in charge to say I’m not going to give you what you need but I’ll give it to your neighbour.

I’ve grown and I’ve lived in a lot of places nearly all over this country and I’ve been placed on the streets and my neighbour in houses and good jobs why can’t it be all the same for all people not when you walk down streets such as Grafton street here in Dublin you see homeless tapping and guards telling them to move and then you see someone the same age walking out of shops with nearly 6 or 7 bags and trust me it’s not cheap why can’t the people in power see this it’s like they are not on the same eye level as people that have to make their homes for the night out of cardboard from these big shops and sleep on the streets I just can’t understand this it’s time to open your eyes look at the figures that ye get daily.

By Andrew Kelly
Dublin, Ireland

 

 

‘I’m Still Here’

Sometimes I find it difficult from under my mask. 

To let people know I’m open and up for a laugh. My face all contorted with this ridiculous task.

I want people to know I’m trying to smile. Sometimes I need absence to escape for a while. To gather my thoughts, to pause and reflect. To try to make purpose of the whole damn mess.

Only to be drawn to anxiety and stress. A state of affairs I do detest.

So with a polite feck off I voice my protest, if only for a moment I feel a heaviness leave my chest.

Draw deep on this refreshing breath. Its a hard ask to raise a smile from behind a mask.

By Paul Uzell
Dublin, Ireland