{"id":7906,"date":"2020-04-08T12:54:08","date_gmt":"2020-04-08T11:54:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cassandravoices.com\/?p=7906"},"modified":"2020-04-08T12:54:08","modified_gmt":"2020-04-08T11:54:08","slug":"poems-for-holy-week","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/2020\/04\/08\/poems-for-holy-week\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems for Holy Week"},"content":{"rendered":"

Poetry editor Edward Clarke selects poems from Paul Curran, Billy O Hanluain, Haley Hodges Schmid, Ned Denny and his own work to mark Holy Week.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A corona Sonnet<\/strong><\/p>\n

With no less haste than the crisis deserves,<\/p>\n

All faces one mask of consternation,<\/p>\n

We’ve learnt, through conversing in spikes and curves,<\/p>\n

This virus respects no race or nation.<\/p>\n

Virgil could not have foreseen the Tiber<\/p>\n

Would fill so fast with the fallen of Rome,<\/p>\n

Hospitals built with sinew and fibre,<\/p>\n

Children in hiding, on their own, at home.<\/p>\n

His toll\u2019s still rising, but Death, if he could,<\/p>\n

Would make no attempt to keep numbers down;<\/p>\n

Warm April predicates wearing no hood,<\/p>\n

His scythe keenly sharpened shines like his crown.<\/p>\n

Unfasten quick this dead pathogen’s trick<\/p>\n

Lest lists of the late outnumber the quick.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

April 4th, 2020<\/em><\/p>\n

Paul Curran<\/a><\/span> was born in Stratford-upon-Avon in 1975. He holds a degree in English Language and Literature from the University of Oxford and a Masters Degree from the Royal Central School of Speech & Drama. He has worked widely as a professional actor. His Only Sonnet<\/a><\/span> loosely follows the pattern of the seasons, comprised of 100+ \u2018alternative\u2019 sonnets; Repeat Fees and its 80 sonnets and longer poems was published in July 2017.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Stock Pile On Hope<\/strong><\/p>\n

Walk down the bare,
\ntrembling aisles of your
\nself. Everything dispensible
\nis now after its Best Before.
\nPass by the Two for One indulgences
\nof fear and doubt. Shelves stripped
\nof the superfluous. The tattered packaging
\nof novelties that amused us
\nfade behind their
\nspent Use By dates. Remembered now
\nas infatuations bought to distract us.
\nIs it time to close shop?
\nTurn out the lights?
\nTime for the din and dirge of shutters?
\nWe are open twenty four hours
\nand we must never close.
\nNo matter the Feast Day.
\nThe Plague or The Hour.
\nTurn toward that aisle within,
\nso often passed in the hurry
\nof what seemed to matter
\nthere you will find the plenty that
\nalways was and will be.
\nLoad your cart, fill your bags,
\nweigh your trolley down.
\nStock pile on hope!<\/p>\n

Billy O Hanluain<\/em><\/a><\/span> works as a language teacher in Dublin. His work has appeared in The Village and The Passage Between. He frequently reads at open mic nights across the city and has contributed to RTE’S Arts Tonight and Arena. He is a DJ with a special passion for Jazz. He lives in Kimmage, Dublin.<\/em><\/p>\n

The Ape in the Meme<\/strong><\/p>\n

Like those who crouch in a bird-catcher\u2019s hide,
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He has put up and part-designed
\nA shiny means of destruction online,
\nWhose checkout page is set and open wide
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As all blind graves must look for business.
\nAnd so he means to capture browsers and listeners
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Like birds in a wicker cage:
\nThat ape who ate his stockpile in the meme,
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Or famous adage,
\nWho licks his unclean lips and can\u2019t be seen.<\/p>\n

He has become fat and sleek, yeah, he\u2019s smoothed
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Out all anxieties we had
\nAbout his bad business: he prospers at
\nThe expense of all of us who are sweet-toothed.
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A devastating and wondrous thing
\nIs committed in our land and we all sing
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Blindly its praises. No prophet
\nEven prophesises and almost every poet,
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 To no one\u2019s profit,
\nTells tales of a life, but not as you\u2019d know it.<\/p>\n

What will be the end of it? Just now,
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 At the limits of the eye, just off
\nThe shore of the ear, that ancient boundary of
\nThe world, the world can\u2019t pass, no matter how
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Hard it smashes its waves into it,
\nOr coaxes endlessly: just there, I intuit
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 You are rowed out with your answer,
\nAnd stand before the multitude on a sea
\n_\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Of radiant stanzas
\nFor those with eyes to hear and ears to see.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Edward Clarke<\/a><\/span>\u2019s latest collection of poems, A Book of Psalms, has just been published by Paraclete Press. He is poetry editor of Cassandra Voices.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2018See now the bewildered Christ\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n

See now the bewildered Christ
\nIn the empty streets of Jerusalem;
\nThe surefooted clip clop of donkey and colt
\nAccentuated by this brimming vacancy,
\nBy this our iron-held breath.
\nWe are inside reading the news;
\nWe are stacked in buildings, racked
\nWith urban exodus and suddenly beset
\nBy the fragrance of country miles.
\nNeed bares her teeth at need\u2014
\nNo hosanna can emerge, no palm
\nSoftens the anxious cobblestones.
\nChrist passes unhailed through our midst
\nWith eyes downcast for love.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Haley Hodges Schmid came from her native America to England in 2017 to pursue introductory theological study at the University of Oxford\u2019s Wycliffe Hall. A musician by training, she is drawn to the intersection of theology and the arts and eager to explore themes like redemption, joy, and sacredness in her writing<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Iron Age<\/strong><\/p>\n

When jail shines like a blue marble in space
\nand masks of fear eat into the face
\nand new strains of deceit are going around
\nand the dead demand to be more tightly bound
\nand they scramble nine jets at the sight of a dove
\nand drive in the nails yet call it love
\nand cameras watch live Eden\u2019s knoll
\nand separation is the protocol
\nand the long war wears the look of peace
\nand Medusa stares from a million TVs
\nand the cure is seeded with wasp-eyed death
\nand all I can trust is my own wise breath
\nand misinformation\u2019s the name for the Word
\nand they tell the biggest lies this chained world\u2019s heard
\nand commit the greatest fraud hell\u2019s ever seen
\nand say the withered tree is green<\/p>\n

when a dragon is about to be crowned
\nand streets are empty save for the drowned
\nand the wolf has the lamb\u2019s best interest at heart
\nand to stay alive you stay apart
\nand an hourly dose of dread sets the tone
\nand the sun itself\u2019s been turned to stone
\nand the hungry ghost of the moon descends
\nand the axle of the heavens bends
\nand the stars disappear through chinks in a rock
\nand the hands go haywire on every clock
\nand a black horse rides upon manback
\nand you still think you\u2019re not under attack
\nand they turn the key to \u201ckeep us safe\u201d from the Lord
\nand at certain times we all applaud
\nand death is getting desperate and iron old<\/p>\n

a bird will sing dawn wield your gold<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ned Denny<\/a>\u2019<\/span>s collection Unearthly Toys was awarded the 2019 Seamus Heaney Prize. B (After Dante), a version of the Divine Comedy, will be published by Carcanet this autumn.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Poetry editor Edward Clarke selects poems from Paul Curran, Billy O Hanluain, Haley Hodges Schmid, Ned Denny and his own work to mark Holy Week.   A corona Sonnet With no less haste than the crisis deserves, All faces one mask of consternation, We’ve learnt, through conversing in spikes and curves, This virus respects no […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":25,"featured_media":7905,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[983,2837,3954,6456,6966,7043,7330],"class_list":["post-7906","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-billy-ohanluain","tag-edward-clarke","tag-haley-hodges-schmid","tag-ned-denny","tag-pandemic-poetry","tag-paul-curran","tag-poems-for-holy-week"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7906","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/25"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7906"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7906\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7906"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7906"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7906"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}