Writing

Erin, for a girl who embodies Ireland

A Poem by Michael R. Burch

ErinbyMichael R. BurchAll that’s left of Ireland is her hair―bright carrot―and her milkmaid-pallid skin,her brilliant air of cavalie..

We Ourselves.

A Poem by Thomas Fitzgerald

A history of those that fight for the island of Ireland, and that bring change when others wish to keep us the people in our place.

The Celtic Cross at Ile Grosse

A Poem by Michael R. Burch

The Celtic Cross at Ile GrossebyMichael R. Burch“I actually visited the island and walked across those mass graves [of 30,000 Irish men, women a..

Queen.

A Poem by Thomas Fitzgerald

A look at some of the Queens and Consorts of the English throne.

Hearthside

A Poem by Michael R. Burch

HearthsidebyMichael R. Burch“When you are old and grey and full of sleep...”―W. B. YeatsFor all that we professed of love, we knewth..

Belfast Blood: A Vampire Daiquiri*

A Story by Abishai100

Isaac and his girlfriend hunt real-life vampires in Northern Ireland and unwittingly add some 'democratic' spice to the otherwise troubled region in m..

The Waves of Éire

A Story by Joshua Blaylock

Tired of being trapped on the shores of Éire, Áine wishes nothing more than to be a Merrow, swimming freely through the ocean and explor..

The Song of Amergin: Modern English Translations

A Poem by Michael R. Burch

The Song of Amergin: Modern English TranslationsThe "Song of Amergin" and its origins remain mysteries for the ages. The ancient poem, perhaps the old..

The Rituals.

A Poem by Thomas Fitzgerald

My first edit in a long, long time - enjoy.

The Shamrock and The Thistle

A Poem by Zoe Richardson

Raise a glass of your favorite moonshine to the Scots-Irish. Dye it green, if you like!

The Postman

A Book by Sam

Three daughters of a late postman embark on a journey set by his will.

The Postman

A Chapter by Sam

In the days following my father’s passing the testator would read aloud his wishes: “By now you all will surely have rummaged through my t..

The Neighbor

A Chapter by Sam

Since when did I become such a curmudgeon? There was a Whistler-type on the platform that day. My unthinking response to whistles and hoots is disdain..