In keeping with my newly restored fascination with the poetic, I have re-blogged an older post about the Irish Seanchai (storytellers) and Fílí (poets). On Friday, I will be discussing Irish poetic inspiration.
On my first ever trip to Ireland, I remember strolling along the banks of the River Liffey with my now husband, when we encountered a group of skateboarders harassing an old man sitting on a bench. At least, I thought they were harassing him, but as we drew closer, I realised that he was talking, and they were listening. His voice rose and fell in melodic, hypnotic waves, and the teenagers milled about, their growing bodies restless, but their faces rapt. We passed by, on a mission of places to be and things to see, but to this day, I have always wondered about the story he was telling them.
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