The cover of my new book, “Pools of Light” is a photograph taken one evening at Duncannon Pier, County Wexford Ireland. The light reflected from the harbour lights and trawler reminded me of the ideas expressed in the title poem “Pools of Light”. In the book I make the point that it opens and closes with light. The final poem “December Darkness” celebrates the way we blaze forth light at the darkest time of year, just as our ancestors did in the great Neolithic tombs such as Newgrange, thousands of years ago, almost acts of defiance agains the dark.
The book itself contains a mixture of short stories, memoir, flash fiction, photography as well as the poetry. some, but not all, of these pieces have appeared on this blog, various items have been previously published here in Ireland, in the US and the UK.
There will be a number of book launches here in Ireland. Copies can be ordered by post from Hook Publishing, 3 Shepherds Walk, New Ross, Co Wexford, Ireland. The book retails at €10 and P&P is €2.
The first, in Kilkenny, will take place in Stone House Books at 7.00pm on Tuesday 14th July at 7.00pm. This event will have Martin Bridgeman of Kilkenny-Carlow Local Radio speaking.
My local launch will be here in Duncannon, Co Wexford, in the Fort Conan Hotel at 8.00pm on the 25th July. Simon Kennedy, short story writer and poet, will speak at this event.
Michelle Dooley-Mahon will speak at the Wexford launch in Byrnes World of Wonder. This will be on Thursday 16th July, time to be confirmed. Michelle is a wonderful writer who has written a book on her mothers struggle with Alzheimers which will be published shortly. When she read an advance copy of “Pools of Light” she penned lovely poem which I have included in the book as an afterword and re-print here.
On speed reading Pools of Light
(for the first time)
in a woolen throw
while a hand rolled cigarette
– smoulders, unsmoked,
in a blue ceramic ashtray
brought home on a plane
from sunny Spain,
I allow my mind to go
where Connelly leads,
as toddler and older,
down narrow lanes,
as ageing makes bolder with
Hobos and Hats and Hairy Ankles
he strings verses like beads,
the children tied to the doors,
and so I find the self, in time –
caught between memory
and another mans mind.
Michelle Dooley-Mahon ©2015