This poem is taken from PN Review 24, Volume 8 Number 4, March - April 1982.
Old MemoryOnce when I was young I bicycled
From Cork to Bantry Bay. I was in Ireland,
Young, vigorous, in love with life and Ireland.
I took a room for the night, was ushered
Up cavernous steps to a high, small chamber
Without light but a candle in the dark.
I saw the bleeding heart of Jesus, the only
Sight. Fear seized me in this foreign place.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 286 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 286 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
