Live Encounters Poetry & Writing 16th Anniversary Volume Two
November- December 2025
The Dead Man, poems by John Liddy.
The Dead Man
(Dinggedicht)
He lies out there, beyond Clogher Strand, without protection,
a stake in his chest, like a man playing dead on sand
surrounded by poking children.
Lashed by storms and baked by sunshine he is all glum;
the sea crashing against his sides, the gulls taking advantage
when the whim is on them.
On summer and autumn evenings I see him all askew,
waiting for a sign from the Northern star to solve
his dilemma, which I vow to do.
During winter nights we both struggle to find peace,
the constant wind and sleet echoing the turmoil around us,
while I imagine he hears the pleas
I send him from the seashore, for a world forlorn
because of rampant destruction by people who care
nothing for the home we so dearly depend on.
Perhaps I hear him too, urging me to visit, to sit beside
him and listen to his take on life, the wisdom of his years,
his most precious request denied
Which I rectify, under a bright spring shower –
I go out and pull the stake from his chest and the whole
Island shakes. From where do we get the power?
The Dead Man is a rock island off the coast of Kerry in Ireland known in Irish as An Fear Marbh, because of its shape. Clogher Strand, Trá Chloghair, from where the dead man can be observed.
Fifty Years A-Growing
Ode for Jim and Jean
1.
How long is a piece of string,
one might proffer by way of reply
to the longevity of a lasting
union only you can justify.
Reason enough to contemplate
the palpability of communion,
whatever luck may dictate,
your children’s children
The echo of that first ‘yes’
resounding fifty years later,
now speaks warmly of largesse
and what you share together.
2.
There were no smoke signals
from that pipe given as a gift –
Magritte would posit claims
that it never did exist
Along with those balls of wool
and knitting needles, gan dabht
strange offerings but brimful
back then like a strand far out –
Emblems for a life woven
from a treasured trove,
mind and body in unison
sustained by enduring love.
gan dabht: without doubt
Snookered
(Open)
One by one the red satellites
drop out of existence
And each colourful planet
is returned to its spot.
Then they too begin
to disappear as the young
Deity angles for position,
weighing up the safe shot
Or all-out attack, caution
abandoned, risk its reward
While the older deity
patiently waits in ambush
To send the last red behind
the black sun with the white
Moon at the end of the world,
beyond the reach of its predator.
© 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 fourteen 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 special editions of Vietnamese poets and Irish language poets for The Café Review and The Hong Kong Review, of which he is a Board Member. 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.