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« "Fallen Angel" [by Madeleine Freitag] | Main | Unscalable [by Lera Auerbach] »

December 20, 2020

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BRILLIANT! Take that, New Yawkah!

This is my kind of guy. "...the grass you pull it as if it were the belly hair of paradise" Great dad, fine poet. Thanks for posting this, Terence Winch.

As it is, love and all. A poem I admire.

BAM! an arrow through the apple of pretension and denial on the head(s) of so many and much more than the new yorker...

Thanks for the comment, Mr. Nevins.


Jerry--thanks for your comment. As a native Bronxite, I know where this poem is coming from.


Thanks for the comment, Beth.

Thanks, Michael. I knew you would like this one.

The belly hair of paradise. I'm there
He has that wryness/ twinkle found in IRISH expats and leprechauns.
I would not want a world without any of them.

Maybe all of us should try to write a nature poem with a beer can in it.

Great poem. I love the phrase “wiggle your little ankles to the beat. I would find myself involuntarily tapping my toes.

Thank you, your laureatship, for the comment.


Fortunately for me, Tony, all my nature poems already have beer cans in them.


Thank you for the comment, Eileen Reich.

To Terence Winch: I would like to read one of your natural beer can poems.

I'm really happy that Terence has shown Eamonn Wall's poignant, wry look at the world--it brings my attention to a new way of life I've not come across before, and I'll be looking for more of what I'm sure are other great songs of his. After reading this, I was compelled to look up synonyms for "uplifting," a word that might seem to cheapen all else the poem is and does, but it IS a word that applies. I really like the ease of his line, free of any overly poetic strain--I appreciate that ease along with how intelligent and ambitious this poem is. Bravo, Eamonn!


Thank you, Professor Berger, for this excellent comment.

Thank you, Terence, not only for the poem but also for the entertaining and insightful comments. While "the belly hair of paradise" takes first place, another takeaway is the beer can I must put in my next mature poem I mean nature poem.

Actually reminds me of another Irish writer:
“Nature is no great mother who has borne us. She is our own creation. It is in our brain that she quickens to life. Things are because we see them, and what we see and how we see it depends on the arts that have influenced us. To look at a thing is very different from seeing a thing. One does not see anything until one sees its beauty.”

Oh, that was Oscar Wilde.


Thank you, Bernard, for the excellent parallel. Sebastian Melmoth sends his regards.

Thanks, David. The bucolic glories of Inwood revealed at last!

I read this one last night before bed, and I let it go. Today, I just can't get the images of that Heineken Holland Beer and those Winston cigarettes out of my mind. It's strange: I didn't think it was a deep image poem, but perhaps it's the deepest of all. Bravo. Eamonn Wall has meant a lot to me for decades now. I'm thrilled that you featured this one. Merry Christmas.

Lawrence---thanks for the comment, and Merry Christmas back to you.

I have the good fortune to work with Eamonn. He is a gracious and kind teacher, a generous colleague, and has a gentle wit. This is indeed a wonderful poem. Is it not the point of poetry to find beauty in the common things that are overlooked?

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