Poetry competition celebrates 800th Anniversary
A variety of thoughtful, inventive and moving poems have won a poetry competition that celebrates Cambridge University’s 800th Anniversary.
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Mary’s words ring out in the hallowed halls of Cambridge
The voice of 86-year-old Mary Reidy, nee McMahon, a native of Carrigaholt, was heard by a learned gathering of poets, academics and language enthusiasts last Friday as part of Cambridge University’s 800th anniversary celebrations.
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Latex rubber gloves - for the protection
from blood, phlegm, bile, pus, bad humours,
ill winds, floods, biblical bugs and the plagues
of chaos in all living lives.
Tentacle of the stethoscope - for the detection
of crepitations, wheezes, hints of murmurs,
unspoken. Communication with the underbelly
of the underself. The words of the underworld.
Half-moon glasses - for the correction
of a beration. The delivery of consequences.
You know the consequences. The gravitas
of ticks and crosses.
Brer rabbit carrots - for the delectation
of seeing beyond the dark, the infra-red glow
of knowing encouragement at least five times
a day. The resurrection. Go out and play.
A bottomless box of spells - for the magician
of fact and fiction. A memory stick to synapses
of the universe; invisible ink to dish out money,
holidays, new husbands. Forgiveness for wishes.
And The Crystal Ball - of course - for the apparition
of longings and loss foretold. The certain cold
feel of palms on the material exterior, coaxing
the mystic ether to hopeful knowing.
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POEM FOR THE NEW YEAR
THERE ARE DAYS
There are days when the world seems to work
in your favour. When things seem to fall into
place, land on your lap, without contrivance.
When you feel flush with accidental happenings,
with the just rightness of things being all in the
right place at the right time.
Wearing the right raiment for the occasion. Your
turn to unwrap the newspaper in pass-the-parcel.
Everything so effortlessly aligned.
And it's such a good feeling, this intersection
of elements, that is coincidence, and it happens
so hardly enough,
that it feels like a rainbow sent, a smile in the
dark. The intersection of lines crossed,
a kiss from the universe. x
Winners of the National Poetry Competition 2008 are announced!
Mary attends the Savile Club in London's Mayfair on March 24th 2009 as a winner of this prestigious contest.
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THERE IS a definite energy surrounding Mary Courtney.
It’s in the wit of her wisdom, the passion fuelling her words and the strength of her engaging personality.
But what the 46-year-old craves the most is the physical energy robbed from her when diagnosed with ME more than a year ago.
Known as the tiredness disease, Myalgic Encephalopathy is a neurological disorder also referred to as chronic fatigue syndrome. Read more.
MARY Courtney hadn’t written a poem since she was in primary school. She loved words and books and ideas, but, as a former nurse turned health studies lecturer, her mind ran on rather more analytical lines.
That is until she developed ME. Six months after first falling ill with the disease, she wrote her first poem for almost 40 years and she hasn’t stopped since. What’s more, her skills in verse have earned her a commendation in a national poetry competition run by the national Poetry Society and offered her a new outlet for achievement at a time when her physical problems mean she struggles with the smallest tasks. Read more.