

The episode could last eight minutes or 15. He introduces himself, the poem, he then reads the poem in his dulcet tones, he goes on to share his human interpretation - making it accessible to all and relevant to everyday life, and then he reads the poem again. Poetry bows down to unexpected human encounters, to unexpected moments.

“I think sometimes people think that poetry is this lofty art, to which the ordinary, everyday experience bows down in a sense of ineptitude and inadequacy, when really, it’s the other way round,” says Pádraig as he introduces an episode I imagine this classroom scene wasn’t a unique one. There was even a boy appointed as “class corrector”. The stop and start points were arbitrarily applied and often occurred mid-sentence. One student would begin reading and all of a sudden another boy would be called upon to continue reading. His English teacher’s ingenious method of pedagogy was fear. In school my husband learned to hate poetry. It’s in the poems chosen, and in the unassuming timbre of Pádraig’s forgiveness-filled voice. It is presented by Cork man and Irish poet, currently in New York, Pádraig Ó Tuama.įorget the apps called Calm, or Breathe, or Mind, or the videos where your eyes follow a contracting or expanding black dot or a guided meditation where it’s suggested your exhale be longer than your inhale, Poetry Unbound is a place of body-felt solace. So when I read about the B.1.1.529 variant, or children aged nine having to wear masks, and having their Christmas plays cancelled, I play an episode of Poetry Unbound to rebound. Joyce Fegan: Keelin Shanley gifted us a much-needed dose of reality
