Live Encounters Poetry & Writing April 2026
Wild World in Mainz, poems by Amy Abdullah Barry.
Wild World in Mainz
Melodies lift
the wintry evening air—
“Father and Son,”
“Wild World,”
“Oh Very Young.”
Gold notes
moving through the hall.
A room of eighties nostalgia,
shoulder to shoulder
answering the songs.
The music moves through me
like tide.
The mind turns east—
Cherating.
Behind the wide beaches
cloud spills
over steep green hills.
Wild world
to the horizon.
Father and son of memory
walking there again.
Years behind me
like a compass
still holding time—
beach bars,
coconut palms
leaning to the sea.
Light flickers
through leaves.
Each frond trembling—
a thin whisper
of Oh Very Young
in the wind.
Timber huts
bleached pale.
Grass turning sepia
in the lowering sun.
Doves, eagles—
peck the bright sand
then lift
toward the hills.
He stands there —
soundtrack
for the boy on the beach.
A cheeky smile
at the corner
of his mouth.
A pink batik shirt
holding the light.
Then — Mainz again.
Music drifting
through the hall.
Five hundred faces
under amber lights.
Echoes of a wild world
touching this room.
I stand beside him —
arms lifted
carving shapes
in the music-filled air.
Only now
I see the ground
he stood on
when he called
the beach ours.
And the boy beside me
on that beach
is still there —
that same cheeky smile
bright
in the sea wind.
Hazel
Somewhere,
I think of the petite black stray —
Hazel, I called her,
after the hazel tree I planted
the day she showed up
at my back door,
all ribs and bold eyes,
unafraid.
Each morning
she’d perch at the kitchen window,
black paws pressed to the glass,
meowing —
loud and insistent,
a rough, rising cry
that cut through toast steam and radio hum,
as if saying:
I’m here. Feed me.
I’d open the door,
she’d twine between my ankles,
then vanish under the hedge
until the sun warmed the garden.
Later, she’d leap into my lap
without asking,
curling into herself,
a tight, purring knot
that pulsed against my chest
like a second heartbeat.
Last night,
a white fox prowled the garden,
pausing beneath the hazel tree,
tail flicking like a slow question.
It made me think —
where has she gone?
That bold little shadow
with the voice too big
for her bones?
Now — I find myself listening
for her cry in the morning stillness,
and watching the empty patch
on my lap
like something might return to it,
some soft weight, some sound —
I’ve come to miss.
© Amy Abdullah Barry
Amy Abdullah Barry Award-winning writer, poet. She is published widely including Cyphers, Southword, RTE, Trumpet and elsewhere. Her poems have been translated into many languages including Irish, Arabic, Italian, Persian, Turkish, Azerbaijani & Spanish. Chosen for the Poetry Ireland Introduction Series 2022. Amy has been awarded literature bursaries from the Arts Council & Words Ireland. She regularly organises poetry & music events in Athlone, Dublin & Roscommon. A travel lover, she has performed her work in Ireland and internationally. She has facilitated several creative writing workshops for Poetry Ireland, the Irish Writers Centre, Libraries, Hospitals, both secondary & national schools, Athlone Community Radio, and elsewhere.
Amy was honoured to perform as the opening half for headliner, Lemn Sissay’s ‘Let the Light In’ show, ‘at Morecambe Festival, UK, 2024.
‘Flirting with Tigers’ is her debut collection of poems published by Dedalus Press in 2023. Her collection received great reviews in the Irish Independent, The High Window, Irish Examiner, Senior Times magazine, The Galway Review, Roscommon Herald.