Does the Erne River – from its source in County Cavan, following its route through Counties Cavan, Fermanagh and Donegal to where it flows into the ocean at Ballyshannon– inspire you? The river is an influential presence in the lives of those who live on or near its banks, and for others too. Fermanagh Writers … Continue reading “Call for Submissions”
The end of 2019 was a busy time for Fermanagh Writers. We had been involved as writers and performers in two dramatic presentations directed by Paddy McEneany: our own The Ghost of Christy Past for the Fermanagh Live festival, and The Gods of Sound and Stone in the Strule Arts Centre, and we were looking … Continue reading “The Year the World Stood Still”
These words were written just after our friend Katharine – Kathy May – died. I wrote them down without thinking of grammar or meter or sequence or refinement. They are from my first thoughts as my wife Ann McNulty and I were, and still are, trying to come to terms with our grief at the … Continue reading “Kathy May”
I was never a musical child. As the saying goes, I couldn’t even carry a tune in a bucket. Once, in my twenties, I bought a tin whistle and a book of folk songs with music, and I tried to pick out tunes in that. Music theory was a locked book. I did not have … Continue reading “Playing by Ear”
As some of you may or may not know, I have recently self-published my second book of a trilogy ‘The Blossom or The Bole’. Book 1 was a huge success in 2017, so with encouragement of the amazing reviews from my readers and my fellow writers I embarked on writing Book 2 in 2018. I … Continue reading “Friendships”
I remember the Border when it was a Border before the Common Market as we called it then when everyone had tales about the old times smuggling the everyday – butter, sugar – shopping bags hung on the outside handles of train carriages. Jokes about wetting the tay.
The Dead, they see a little at a time. They go South. They jump through the hole into the other world. They walk around on the ground. Then they whirl. The whirlwind, people say. They go up in the sky on a rope, the Dead.
And what a great watch it has been! A decade long in the telling of the story: characters we have loved and those we have hated have met their fates; some got what they deserved, many had surprises, others seemed to have been ill-served by the cruel hands of the author. Game of Thrones has … Continue reading “The Watch has Ended”
Common Ground can be found in overlooked places, where rich land and poor entangle. The farmers of Tempo looked across the valley, past the orderly estates of Brookeborough, to the wild and barren heights of Slieve Beagh and Mullaghfad. Tattenabuddah lies between, a hidden, intricate place, not well suited to large schemes or great plantations … Continue reading “At the Margins”
The sky is clear tonight; late frost sparkles the rushes, casting back the light of distant suns The moon, full as a silver thruppence, shines the trackless grass pure white. No shadow moves but one. Lopsided loping leather-horn crouch back, old-woman-wise, she comes. This is her world, and yet she does not sleep.