Moneyrea Primary School and Nursery 4th Oct
POETRY WRITING WORKSHOP
Robert Huddleston Community Festival
Come along on Monday 7th October at 7.00pm to Moneyrea PS for a relaxed poetry workshop aimed at encouraging all amateur wordsmiths.
No previous experience is required - this workshop is open to all.
Ray Givans is a retired secondary school teacher with a passion for poetry. He taught English in Holywood High and Comber High.
His poetry publications include, the pamphlet, "No Surrender, Castle Caulfield" Lapwing Publications, Belfast; "The Innermost Room," a chapbook from Salzburg Poetry Press, at the University of Salzburg; and "Tolstoy in Love" a full collection from Dedalus Press, Dublin, which was shortlisted for best first poetry collection in Ireland, for 2009.
Any would be poets will certainly enjoy a good night's crack and gain from Ray's vast experience.
Check out one of Ray's poems below
REGENERATION
My father brought peony cuttings from his garden.
Insisting that he'd plant them, he gathered the required tools;
foremost a spade, its polished face turned to my garage wall
some eighteen months. He was not dressed for the operation,
suit, yellow V-neck jumper, suede Hush Puppies.
He eyed my garden, decided on a spot shaded from
blistering summer sun by overhanging fuchsia.
I stood, distant. He spat on his hands.
Heel to spade, he was quick to form a hole
one foot deep, push the plant into the earth
to winter there. His hands kneaded the soil,
sprinkled potash to encourage spring
and early summer regeneration.
Next spring the peonies delivered:
a short outburst of fiery blossoms, citrus and spicy,
rubbing against soft pastels of Grandiflora roses.
Returned in subsequent years, before they became subdued.
And in the year they lowered my father into the earth
at Coolhill Cemetery, all bloom had gone,
for I allowed foxglove and ragwort to run rampant.
In autumn, my ten-year-old son close by my heels,
I picked up the spade. We dug out
the damaged tubers, stripped away the wilted stalks,
replanted in a light-filled space. I made allowances
for blemishes, the fickle nature of that plant -
it took two years before the flowers would fire again –
my father's breath in them.