by helenmcnulty | May 6, 2022 | Drawings, Writing, writing about being a mother
First Portrait I couldn’t move, but I could draw. I had a green pen, almost all the ink was gone. It was scraping along the little book I had set aside to put the notes of what it was to be mummy for the first time. The book was small. I forgot that my...
by helenmcnulty | Feb 18, 2022 | Poetry, Writing, Writing about Covid
Preparation for Lockdown.by Helen McNulty March 2020I am making listspreparing for lockdownalmost believing in the possibilityof an absurd end. A tingle in my nose scared me half to death.Worldometer announced the first fatality in Ireland. Who is this democratic...
by helenmcnulty | Dec 10, 2021 | Drawings, Painting, Writing, Writing About Northern Ireland, Writing about the nature
The byre was left there with material traces of the two of them in it. The house locked up and bits of medicine and old bandages lay on the windowsill and spoke of final days of nursing and comforting. A tilly lamp whose glass was covered over with layers of dust, had...
by helenmcnulty | Nov 12, 2021 | Painting, writing about family
Immersed in the light of the sun, she bathes with the angels. 2005. I sat by her bedside, she was laid out in a purple velvet scarf, her red hair gone. My camera was in my bag, my camera was always in my bag. So, I took it out and took her picture, in the dead...
by helenmcnulty | Nov 5, 2021 | Poetry, Writing
In moments aloneI am proneTo checking my phoneI am a drone I remember beforeBefore the screenI’d lie on the floorAnd check in on my dreams I’d stare at the ceiling and scroll through my mindI’d feel the cold floor, be a body, defined. Ideas would...
by helenmcnulty | Aug 31, 2021 | Writing
Clouds in Trousers (Leipzig 2015) By Helen McNulty Time fades as Buckets and spades of logical rain Fall in muddy Prussian streams from the Clouds in Trousers. I sang to Napolean on the hill The royal Corsican. I heard Frank Harte in my heart Refulgent beams in his...
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