OntheWilderSide

THE NORTH SEA POETRY SCENE
IS PROUD TO PRESENT

A POETRY READING

FOLLOWED BY Q&A WITH MR. DESMOND EGAN

INTRODUCTION BY DR. DAVID B. AXELROD, SUFFOLK COUNTY POET LAUREATE

A SPECIAL READING BY GEORGE WALLACE, SUFFOLK COUNTY’S FIRST
POET LAUREATE

APRIL 18TH, 2008@ 7 PM

THE SOUTHAMPTON INN, 91 HILL STREET, SHINNECOCK ROOM

HORS D’OEUVRES & WINE, COFFEE & TEA INCLUDED
ADMISSION: $10.00. PLEASE RESERVE YOUR SEAT

MAIL CHECKS TO: THE NORTH SEA POETRY SCENE, 33 WOODS LANE, SOUTHAMPTON, NY 11968

FOR MORE INFORMATION CALL: (631)204 1240 OR EMAIL: THENORTHSEAPOETRYSCENE@HOTMAIL.COM

CO-HOSTED BY TAMMY NUZZO-MORGAN & PETER V. DUGAN

THIS EVENT WAS FUNDED IN PART BY POETS & WRITERS, INC. WITH PUBLIC FUNDS FROM THE NEW YORK STATE COUNCIL ON THE ARTS, A STATE AGENCY.

SHORT BIO:

Desmond Egan was born in Athlone, Co Westmeath in 1936. He founded the Goldsmith Press in 1972 and edited Era, the literary magazine. His collections include Midland (Newbridge, The Goldsmith Press, 1972, with drawings by Brian Bourke); Leaves (Goldsmith Pres,1974), with drawings by Charles Cullen); Siege! (Goldsmith Press, 1976); Woodcutter (Goldsmith Press, 1978); Athlone? (Goldsmith Press, 1980, with photographs by Fergus Bourke); Seeing Double (Goldsmith Press, 1983, with illustrations by Alex Sadkowsky); Collected Poems (Maine, National Poetry Foundation, 1983); Poems for Peace (1986); A Song for my Father (Goldsmith Press/The Kavanagh Press, UK Peterloo Poets, 1989); Selected Poems (Omaha, Creighton University Press.Selected and with an Inroduction by Hugh Kenner, 1992);Peninsula (Newbridge, The Kavanagh Press, 1992); Elegies (Goldsmith Press, 1996); Famine (Goldsmith Press, 1997); and Music (The Goldsmith Press, 2000). He has also published Medea (The Goldsmith Press, 1991); and a collection of essays, The Death of Metaphor (1990). He has been awarded the US National Poetry award for his Collected Poems. He lives in Co Kildare.

Mr. Egan Has Received:

o Recipient of National Poetry Foundation of USA Award (1983)

o The Chicago Haymarket Literary Award (1987)

o The Farrell Literary Award (1989)

o The Stanford Prize (1990)

o The Bologna (Italy) Award (1998)

o The Literature Award of Macedonia (2004)

o The Oeussant (France) International Literary Award (2005)

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Christmas Carol
(for Berna Hayden)
by Desmond Egan

London Tablet Christmas 1993

an ice shadow will crunch under the tyres
again when we turn the gate from Midnight Mass
heading for windowlight waiting like a cup of tea.
next morning as usual the horses
will be ridden out steaming after their hoofprints
while a robin in the thicket rehearses spring
and when someone goes to get turf
the hoards of leaves will lie unnoticed
as the grey mysterious Liffey slowing
through sallow fields where sheep
munch among the witheredy ragworth
while a wavy V of geese disappears
high and silent down the sky
and somewhere the unnoticed infant
has come into the world again
is lying on our straw
softening everything as a baby does
smiling deepening the peace
of Christmas in Kildare.

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PEACE 19 8 6

B y D e s m o n d E g a n
(For Seán MacBride,
founder of Amnesty International)

just to go for a walk out the road
just that
under the deep trees
which whisper of peace

to break the bread of words
with someone passing
just that
four of us round a pram
and baby fingers asleep

just to join the harmony
the fields the blue everyday hills
the puddles of daylight and

you might hear a pheasant
echo through the woods
or plover may waver by
as the evening poises with a blackbird
on its table of hedge

just that
and here and there a gate
a bungalow’s bright window
the smell of woodsmoke of lives
just that!

but Sweet Christ that
is more than most of mankind can afford
with the globe still plaited in its own
crown of thorns

too many starving eyes
too many ancient children
squatting among flies
too many stockpiles of fear
too many dog jails too many generals
too many under torture by the impotent
screaming into the air we breathe

too many of us not sure what we want
so that we try to feed a habit for everything
until the ego puppets the militaries
mirror our own warring face
too little peace

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