Irish Eyes
By
Mattie Lennon
Martin (Murt) Malone has under his belt, seven novels, numerous short stories; a work of non-fiction The Lebanon Diaries as well as radio plays a stage drama, and a raft of short stories. Space doesn’t permit me to list his awards and nominations. His latest novel Iapetus,’81 is based on real events in the world of Irish racing 41 years ago. It is set in a struggling racing stable on the Curragh of Kildare. The development of the fictitious characters prompts me to describe the author as “The Irish John Steinbeck.”
Martin (Murt) Malone
The reader is brought on a step by step through every aspect of their lives from the moment that Sam Dwyer meets Rozzie Moran in the CYMS hall in Kildare town in 1971. Butch, Gunther Charlie, Mercy et all has colourful lives none free from complications. All brought vividly to life by this ex-army, Kildare town wordsmith.
Iapetus,’81 is published by Owl Fellas Press.
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The Following poem was written recently by Limerick poet Anne Mulcahy as part of her battle against discrimination;
A Poem from Anne Mulcahy
The River
For Hannah, my Friend
My friend is a Traveller and I am a Country-Buffer -
she has left an imprint on me like a fossil,
zig zag incisions that mould the hardest rock,
planting themselves - living forever.
The delicate sprig of friendship has blossomed
became a mountain with flowing spring waters.
The shared moments caught for us a time of no divide,
a silver net catching the Salmon Boyne-
– like a sparkling clear river – our friendship swelled
– each flow equal to the next -
our laughter shattered the thin veil that hovers -
between prejudice and unity –
between the - I’ll accept you - on my terms, fallacy
Prejudice acts as a lever to elevate our inferior selves
to heights of dizzy disillusion -
Society feeding the layered segmentation segregation –
like ladders – steps of insanity to clouds of fanaticism -
no one wants the bottom rung!
Instead we cling foolishly to the middle ground,
shouting -I’m good today - I’m better than you!.
Refusing to be fossils in Rivers of friendship.
3/14/22 Anne Mulcahy
The Blessington Lakes, beautiful though they are, were man-made. In the late 1930s, Dublin city had a poor infrastructure when it came to supplying water to its inhabitants. The Government of the day decided to create a reservoir in the Blessington area to solve the problem. The Poulaphouca Dam and hydroelectric station were constructed and in 1940, 5000 acres of farmland were flooded and 70 families were displaced but not without controversy. In the summer of 1978 the lakes reached their lowest level ever. Walls chimneys and fences which had been submerged for 38 years appeared. Walls of the houses, bridges, piers and the remnants of old farm machinery became visible and brought back memories.
At the time an opportunist UK film company decided to make a documentary about The Liffey Hydro-Electric Scheme. A scout from the company, driving a British registered Land Rover arrived in the area. He stopped with Jimmy who was standing at the end of Norton’s Lane. He introduced himself and in a “cut-glass accent,” informed Jimmy, “We would like to interview the oldest person in the area.” “Begob” said Jimmy, “Yer late. He died last week.”
* * * * *
Joe Fahy
The following is a poem written by my old friend Joe Fahy ( Seosamh Ó Fathaigh.)
Exploitation
Culture to Cain, the importance of label
In expressing social status.
Economic power, its Everest, from the steppingstone
Its foundation, the rock of exploitation.
Its superiority, its status,
Who pays for the products on the table?
Its resources from third world locations.
Mixed by and through manipulation,
Political in essence
The priesthood of power,
Political domination,
Economic exploitation,
Social and Cultural
Marginalisation.
Our menus,
From first world T.V. stations
Emphasis on ‘having.’
Children forever grieving,
Totalitarian values at the
Crucifix of consumption.
The two thieves of much
And more, on either side-
Twin towers of greed.
But resurrection is guaranteed-
The first of the Nazarenes’
Abel, in our era.
Remember apartheid,
Our contemporary Roman Era.
That fella of the sixties,
Nelson Mandela.
Romero in the eighties,
Ignacio Ella Curia in the nineties,
The new Holy Land Cuscatlán,
Meaning, ‘land of Rivers and Jewels’
El Salvador, our Saviour.
See you in May.
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