by Orna Ross | Sep 20, 2011 | Fiction |
IN AUTUMN OF 1916, Iseult Gonne sent a long letter to her friend and mentor, WB Yeats, in which she referred to his recent critique of her writing: “I am most thankful to you for those criticisms you have made on my scribblings,” she wrote. “Yes, they are bad. I...
by Orna Ross | Sep 3, 2010 | Poetry |
Here is a small poem about a big subject: Listen, my parents, the grasses are crawling, the trees are all thrumming. Soon, birds won’t be able to sing. Listen. Hear me. Our time is for turning. If the old ways don’t die, we can’t win. * Listen, my children: our...
by Orna Ross | Jun 1, 2010 | Poetry |
‘”Thou Shalt Not!” soon fades,’the Storyteller* said. ‘But “Once Upon a Time…” goes on forever.' It is morning, May in England, Ascot Priory wood. In a clearing by the pathway, a branch invites a bow. I lay my forehead on its bark,...