Rain, Rain On Arrival
The station master is being ever so discreet
But I have my suspicions and I can sense
Something seditious, in a room as neat as
His happens to be looking, now apparently
He is putting all the accessories back, in
The presentation box, even rolling up
The track and the poor little fellow is
Possessed of the face of a man locked in
An unhappy marriage. Cutting all the lines
Of communication down, then proceeding
To take the train apart, carriage by carriage,
But what breaks my heart is his decision,
For he too has to suffer the fate of the man
Of vision, hard as it is, and it is for a father
To handle, to be watching his son, watching
Him dismantle the town.
-
JERRY TWOMEY
Jerry Twomey has travelled extensively, lived and worked abroad in France, Holland and ‘across the water’ in London. He lives in Cork City with his wife and two sons and works at the Cork School of Music. He has been Writing since forever.
John B. Keane: ‘I had expected an apprentice to the high art of poetry, but was... pleasantly surprised by an accomplished young man with a bright future.’
Brendan Kennelly: ‘The blend of lyicism and humour. The playing with language, the juggling and experimenting’.
Bloodaxe: ‘Clearly of distinct quality’
Seamus Heaney: ‘I like the inventiveness and flicker of humour in them, your poems are the work of a seriously involved writer with a definite lyric talent’.
Richard Montgomery: ‘Jerry Twomey’s work represents a rebellion against institutionalised poetry. Here is no tourist trade Ireland, it is not some ‘old bog road’ image of rustic ruralism but rather an Ireland ‘On the Road’ and reminiscent of Kerouac and the ‘Beat’ poets of America.’