Allingham Flash Fiction and Poetry – September 17
Allingham Path to Publication Workshop – October 1
Loughshore Lines Anthology – deadline extended to September 4
Just Write Online Workshop – early-bird rate ends September 7
Tom Sigafoos writes:
County Donegal, Ireland, 1884. Your island home is threatened with evictions. How far would you go to stop them?
The fates of two men – Ruari Mullan of Tory Island, and Sub-Lieutenant William Gubby of HMS Wasp – intersect in the disastrous arc of the Irish Land Wars.
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Write a poem to celebrate a site in Fermanagh and Cavan’s UNESCO Geopark.
To assist all poets MAC UNESCO Global Geopark is providing a pdf map of the Geopark and accompanying background information.
For more details contact Bee Smith at GeoparkPoetryMap@gmail.com.
Corncrake Magazine is an on-line-only Arts magazine published twice yearly by Fermanagh Writers. It covers writing, art, music and related matters produced in, or of interest to, Fermanagh and the surrounding area, reaching from Omagh to Cavan and from Ballyshannon to Monaghan.
We accept poetry, flash fiction (under 1000 words) reflections and reviews. Visual content and links to music or videos are also welcome.
Submissions to the next issue will open at the start of September. In the meantime, if you have any relevant news, notices or queries please send them to email@example.com and we will include them below.
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 forward to a new project Better Together in conjunction with Ballinamore Hens Shed. I had been in hospital with a clot on the lung, and we all needed a rest before the next issue of Corncrake. There would certainly be plenty to write about.
Then Covid arrived.
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 tragedy of Kathy our lifetime friend being dead. Perhaps I thought they were going to be the kernel of a poem or a piece of dandified prose. Not yet, I am not ready to disturb them.
Untitled by Amanda May, 07.06.2020
(read at my sister Kathy’s funeral)