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Carrying Light pays tribute to Derry and Donegal luminaries, from Pat Hume to Dinny McLaughlin and from Sr Clare Crockett to Canon McDyer


Deirdre Devine lives in County Derry, overlooking Lough Foyle and the Donegal hills. Born in the village of Culdaff, County Donegal, she studied art in Belfast and taught for several years in Derry. In 2001 Deirdre published Pictures in the Window an illustrated biography of the Culdaff artist Willie Doran. 

Joining the creative writing group in Limavady in 2002, her work has been included in anthologies, both in Donegal and in Northern Ireland. Her first poetry collection In Applause was published in 2014, followed by a second in 2020, Beginning - A Spiritual Journey in Poetry. Carrying Light - A Life in Poetry is her latest collection and is published by Colmcille Press, Derry. 

Growing up in a family of eight children, Deirdre’s parents were the owners of Mc Grory’s Hotel in Culdaff, a venue that has long been known for promoting the cultural and musical life of Inishowen. Though living in County Derry, she returns to Culdaff frequently with her husband and extended family. Carrying Light is a personal tribute to many people from the North West where Deirdre has spent her life and the poems reflect her memories of a place that continues to inspire her imagination.

The late Dinny Mc Laughlin from Buncrana is celebrated in The Fiddler’s Story:


...And what can I say,

but under a moon again, recall

how a tune could lighten the step

of all who had the chance


to be there that night to hear him,

when he made the fiddle dance.

The role of Pat Hume in helping to bring peace to Northern Ireland is also highlighted in Mother of our Peace.


...You bloomed beside him,

calm and faithful gardener of his growth;

host to the table of hospitality,

shoulder for tears of failure or prize.


Deirdre Devine’s interest in spiritual poetry has inspired Clare of Derry, a poem based on the life of Sister Clare Crockett, comparing her growing influence to a ‘…little spring / who rose beyond the city’s walls, / and would become a river full / of grace and love for Him…


Mary Hayward, Limavady author and poet writes, 'From years of quiet observation, Deirdre Devine documents the miracle of the everyday, the gifts of music, the natural world, the rhythms of birth and death, changing patterns and seasons. People and places are lovingly remembered. She celebrates those who have had an influence on her writing journey; mentors, poets, politicians, playwrights, neighbours, friends and especially "the love that flows unbidden from grandchildren". This collection is quietly spiritual and light flows seamlessly from every page.'


Carrying Light is available from Colmcille Press, priced £9.95.




Bímse i gcónaí ag radaireacht: I’m always flirting.


Ceann de na torthaí aisteacha a bhí ar an dá theanga in Éirinn teacht i dteagmháil lena chéile ab ea an t-amhrán macarónach nó dátheangach, de réir mar bhí an Béarla ag teacht i dtreis sa tír ón 18ú Céad ar aghaidh. Is sanpla éadrom aerach den seánra an port béil seo; tá na focail simplí agus inathraithe in áit na mbonn ag brath ar cé bhí i láthair agus ag éisteacht. Mura raibh Cití i láthair, mar shampla, b’fhéidir go raibh duine éigin eile ann. Tugtar faoi deara, áfach, gur ag Cití atá an focal deireanach.


One of the products of the contact of the two languages in Ireland is the macaronic or bilingual song, which began to appear from the 18th century onwards. This port béil, or song lilt for dancing to, is a light-hearted example of the genre. The lines are simple and could be extemporised to suit the company - if Cití wasn’t nearby, maybe somebody else was. Notice, however, that Cití has the last word.


Bímse i gcónaí ag radaireacht,

I’m always flirting,

Ag radaireacht, ag radaireacht,

Flirting, flirting,

Bímse i gcónaí ag radaireacht,

While Cití is convenient.


Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,

Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um, while Cití is convenient [x2]


Nuair a bhainim póg i ngan fhios di,

When I steal a kiss from her 

I nganfhios di, i ngan fhios di,

Unbeknown to her, unbeknown to her,

Nuair a bhainim póg i ngan fhios di,

Deir Cití: “Sir, how dare you!”

Says Kitty: “Sir, how dare you!”


Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,

Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um, Deir Cití: “Sir, how dare you!” [x2]


A’s mé ar ais an dara huair,

And when I’m back (for) the second time,

An dara huair, an dara huair,

The second time, the second time,

A’s mé ar ais an dara huair,

Deir Cití: “What delayed you?”

Says Kitty: “What delayed you?”


Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,

Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um, Deir Cití: “What delayed you?” [x2]


Ceanglaítear ar maidin sinn,

Let us be tied (in marriage) in the morning,

Ar maidin sinn, ar maidin sinn,

Us in the morning, us in the morning,

Ceanglaítear ar maidin sinn,

Deir Cití: “It’s just dandy.”

Says Kitty: “It’s just dandy.”


Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,

Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um, Deir Cití: “It’s just dandy.” [x2]


Anois ó tá muid ceangailte,

Now since we are tied,

Ceangailte, ceangailte,

Tied, tied,

Anois ó tá muid ceangailte,

Deir Cití: “Rock the cradle.”

Says Kitty: “Rock the cradle.”


Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,togha-radhdil-adhdil-um,

Togha-radhdil-adhdil-um, Deir Cití: “Rock the cradle.” [x2]



Beautiful version from Sláine Ní Chathalláin here/Leagan álainn ó Shláine Ní Chathalláinar fáil anseo.




Bailiúchán de 121 amhrán as ciste ceoil na Gaeilge, arna roghnú agus léiriú ag Risteard MacGabhann, is ea Claisceadal cois Baile.

Claisceadal cois Baile is a collection of 121 songs from the treasure store of the Gaelic song tradition, selected and presented by Risteard MacGabhann.






A TERRIFIC review of Conor Bowman's short-story collection 'The Half-Life of Edith Hopkins' by Anne Cunningham has this week been published in several regional Irish newspapers. She writes:


In my review of a previous Bowman book some years ago, I wondered why there isn’t more pot-banging about this author. He easily matches many of our big literary talents and paddles in the same thematic streams but seems to be somehow overlooked. I have no idea why, but I admired Horace Winter Says Goodbye a lot, and this new anthology of short stories is even better.

The title story is a novella and traces the life of Edith Hopkins, retired piano teacher, now scraping through her final days, riven with dementia in a nursing home. The fog of her half-memories leads to a clearing as we are taken through her life; a promising tennis career ruined by a spell in the Tuam Mother and Baby Home, the trafficking of her son to America, never to be seen again and the half-life she lived afterwards.

It’s harrowing but elegantly told and not the only story containing the suffering of memory. An old man travels from his New England home to a disused railway station in County Galway to re-live a memory of his grandfather. He never returns.

In a stylish flight of fancy, an author is summoned to a sumptuous supper in an exclusive Stephen’s Green club, only to be met by characters from his many works of fiction, ‘brought to life’ as it were, from the page.

I could pot-bang on and on, but alas a short review can’t do justice to this gem of an anthology. It is one of my highlights so far this year.


Bowman's new work, which focuses on the Tuam Mother & Baby Home, has also recently featured in the Irish News and the Belfast Telegraph – and on BBC Radio Ulster's Sunday Sequence Programme.



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