Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume One November-December 2024
The Weaver Of Reeds And Rushes, poems by John Liddy.
The Weaver Of Reeds And Rushes
I would look in after school or market morning,
each time a glimpse of the weaver behind a reed
basket, willow cot, mat or mesh bag in the making,
lost amongst the briar and sally rods of his trade.
He seemed to work stretched out on the floor,
threading a creel with hands moving hypnotically,
recognizable objects emerging, a touch of hammer
on rattan or bamboo, bullrush tied methodically.
By first of Spring, I had my Brigit’s Cross made;
lush-green and sturdy, a gift for father and mother,
who placed it on the kitchen door where it stayed
to outlast them and Jack Delaney its maker
From Limerick, whose handiwork was woven
into local lives, beyond river and ocean.
Youth And Age
The Madrid concert queue of mostly young women
lengthened by the minute as I pedalled on my way
to buy daily bread and morning paper; oblivion
not for them, which, of course, I didn’t say.
Some stood in line chaperoned by parents
who came and went until the queue began to move,
while others sat on cardboard, wrapped in blankets,
sipped juices or sang themselves into the groove.
It was 9am and the diehards had been waiting all night
for an idol who would sing to each of them
in ten more hours. I recalled the flutter of their beat,
immunity to imminent demise, the day’s gruesome
Headline for a massacre at a music festival near Gaza,
where vengeful bombs exploded as I cycled by,
a pair of eyes glancing at an old guy in the plaza,
concerned for a world not of their hue and cry.
Open Wounds
We have always been slow to make the leap
between the links, to abandon the cave-
teachings, to embrace what doesn’t enslave,
shake off the smell of the putrid scrapheap
To wake ourselves free from primitive sleep
and live to outgrow the open casket
by a mother who defied the silent threat
to show us the hate that runs skin deep.
Is change possible within a lifespan?
Each of us doing our part to reject
corrosive influence with its sly plan
to cause devastating aftereffect.
To earn the right to self-respect
is to recognise in others what we
ourselves have come to accept.
The Pantoum
Trapped in river water, their futile search
For the mermaid’s song a vain attempt
To find the mouth of the estuary,
Fulfil their preordained goal.
A vain attempt to find the mermaid’s song
Like words on a page in search of light
To fulfil their preordained goal,
Condemned to exist below the river bed
In search of light for them to grow.
Then something stirs in their innards,
Releasing them from condemnation,
Converting them into musical notes
That stir the innards to move like a swarm,
Free of river water, to end the search
Like word-music on the homecoming tide,
To frolic with mermaids in the Sargasso Sea.
© John Liddy
John Liddy was born in Ireland. Between Boundaries (Nora McNamara/Limerick Leader (1974) and Slipstreaming in the West of Ireland, co-authored with Jim Burke, (Revival Press, (2024) he has published thirteen Poetry books, a collection of stories for children Cuentos Cortos en Ingles: Los Sonidos de los Vocales (Bruno, 2011), edited with Dominic Taylor 1916-2016 An Anthology of Reactions and Let Us Rise 1919-2019 An Anthology Commemorating The Limerick Soviet 1919. Liddy has also translated poems to and from English, Irish, Spanish and edited a special edition of Vietnamese poets for The Café Review. Two in One, a collection of short stories, co-authored with his brother Liam, was recently published. He is currently working on a collection of poems True to Form, and editing a special issue of Irish language poets to appear with poets from Macao, China for The Hong Kong Review, of which he is a board member.