Showing posts with label Irish Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Irish Poetry. Show all posts

SUNDAY, March 15th Beginning at 1PM slt: CELEBRATIN' THE GREEN!

No need to nurse your "quarantini" all on your own-some today. Not when Seanchai Library is shining up the Craic with three hours of fun and fellowship, in anticipation of St Patrick's Day.


We confess, it's an old tradition that goes back to our West of Ireland days: when The Festival of St Patrick would begin somewhere about now and run through the Library's Anniversary on the 20th-ish.  Then there was the year we celebrated our 10th Anniversary for 10 days that conveniently spanned St. Pat's AND our Anniversary.  

Oh heck!  Who are we kidding?  We just like celebrating. How could we NOT throw a party?

It all begins . . .
@ 1pm slt with Stories & Poetry of Ireland, featuring Dubhna Rhiadra, Aoife Lorefield, Corwyn Allen, and Kayden Oconnell, live.

Followed by . . . 
@2pm slt - Celtic Music and Dancing with DJ Aoife Lorefield 
@3pm slt - Rockin' Celtic & Bagpipe Tunes with DJ Caledonia Skytower

Both events take place at Murphy's on Chiaroscuro Isle (courtesy of Gloriana Maertens). Come for some or all - Bring a friend and be ready to have fun!  ~ Slainte'
http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Chiaroscuro%20Isle/187/177/30

TUESDAY, March 6th at 7pm: IRISH POETS & WONDERS

Caledonia Skytower shares selections from D. R. McAnally's compendium of late 18th Century Irish Lore, punctuated with selected Irish poems.

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
~ W. B. Yeats.
Caledonia Skytower, live in voice.