Hosted by my writing group, Clane Writers, in The Liffey Arms, Newbridge, the Open Mic saw seventeen readers take to the podium last night to give us a miscellany of poetry, short story, memoir, reflections and a couple of songs thrown in for good measure.
Liam Power told us he was "descended from a squirrel" and "fessed up" to being a hoarder, in a piece on the hilarious consequences of not being able to declutter.
Debbie Thomas read Blue, a short story that weaved colours around us like a soft veil. "Green kissed red into apples" and "Red was busy painting the town."
John Carroll read us a thought provoking poem entitled Be Concerned.
Martin Malone gave us The Date from his award nominated short story collection The Mango War - a hilarious portrait of the obstacle course that is blind dating.
Una Ni Cheallaigh read Dream Child, Waiting Room and Joshua Tree from her recently published and very favourably reviewed poetry collection, Salamander Crossing.
Sylvia Hickey read us a travel piece from Perth.
Mervyn Ennis opened a personal reflection by declaring himself a "Luddite" before launching in a computer jargon charged, extremely humourous description of how being I.T. literate could really help your life. His hilarious image of "cutting and pasting" appropriate clothing onto his teenage daughter stands out.
Sheila Briody read The Ghost, an evocative, image filled account of a visit to the misty Scottish Highlands.
Mari Gallagher (yours truly) read a piece of memoir My first visit to the Dentist.
Peter Butler gave us some poetry.
Brian Carroll read Gravity in the Glen a descriptive outline of an army mortar competition and a General's incendiary response to lapses in catering standards. "They left quieter than they arrived," summed up the goings on.
Paddy O Beirne gave us some poetry where "scraggy haired boys, tired and hungry" and "big bellied men in wellingtons" roamed the streets on fair day.
Rita Crampton, super M.C., read her short story, Farewell Angelina, a haunting tale of teenhood memories and longing.
And in between the breaks, we chatted and exchanged writerly gossip.
On the way home, the swans on the Liffey were having their own get together.