where the writers are

Mary Wilkinson's Writings

Article
Nov.26.2008
Be available Aim to please Say yes Say yes, of course Say no problem Smile Be good Listen up Don't look inward Help and give Never complain Love others Don't speak out of line Never tell lies Use your knife and your fork Kiss Mama good night Sweet dreams Feel the sunshine on your eyelids Count the raindrops Frosted cobwebs on clothes line Bends in the road Anti...
Nov.19.2008
The Quiet Quarter, RTE Lyric FM www.lyricfm/ie
The Prologue It is in a steam filled November kitchen that I first come to know Christmas.  I am the child standing on a chair alongside my mother.  I am slipping almonds from their brown skin.  Mountains of flour and fruit and candied peel line the counter top.  Pyramids of golden sugar glisten.  The only sounds are of stirring and grating, cutting and mixing. ...
Article
Nov.08.2008
broadcast on Lyric FM (A Quiet Quarter)
I walk past the store many times before I muster up the courage to go in.  I even try to look casual like a woman strolling on an Autumn street, window shopping, relishing that last kiss of token sunshine on my skin.  The bag is heavy in my hand, the plastic handle chafes my fingers.  It did not appear heavy that night hanging in the wardrobe, in fact, I was...
Poem
Oct.31.2008
A cold cafe drinking au-lait frothy lips   Rachmaninov aches the love the ring slips   Embers kindled wheels are spindled tightened grips
Poem
Oct.31.2008
Through an open door of forest green - framed Joseph kneels. A thin shaft of light falls on him, on the steam from his breath and the sweet kindling he gathers to warm me.
Article
Oct.30.2008
RTE Radio programme: A Living Word
When I come out of my motel in Los Angeles and look up at the sky the words 'have a beautiful day' are etched into the blue. On the street, sleek convertibles glide by and women with their morning lattes in hand walk their pooches in that casual way that is indigenous to California. Down a ways I watch a woman approaching in a crab like fashion, each step...
Article
Oct.28.2008
personal journal
I was thinking about where all the pieces of joy were going to come from or if they were there anyway simply hanging from the tree branches like crimson coloured glass baubles sparkling in the dappled sunlight of a summer's evening.  It could be about nine o'clock of an evening in June when the day clearly displays its reluctance to start drawing to a close and...
Poem
Oct.26.2008
They put in a septic where the well used to be and chopped down the ash and the sycamore tree they bulldozed the hedgerow and built a brick wall put in lead windows because authentic was all it took them a while to decide on what shape the island counter in the kitchen should take where their French cookware could stand with ease and cook up a storm designed to...
Short Story
Oct.25.2008
the quiet quarter, anthology of new Irish Writing
For two days you've been sick, my little one.  When at first the spots appeared they formed small clusters, tiny maps of countries, random speckles of red that gradually grew to cover your skin.  Now they are like large continents flowing into one another until a massive fiery planet covers your body, your face.  You are submerged by illness. Just two days ago I...
Short Story
Oct.23.2008
radio piece broadcast on RTE Lyric FM
Neighbour The other day I came across a journal that I had kept of my life in the American Southwest.  I had forgotten about the pages pulled from a notebook when packing to return to live in Ireland.  On these tattered pieces of paper the loping handwriting portrays someone who seems like a stranger to me now.  They paint a colourless picture of a suburban...