PAULA MEEHAN

THEMES OF HER POETRY

1. Memory/ History
2. Ireland
3. Identity
4. Relationships
5. Loss
6. Creativity
7. Religion
8. Love
9. Nature
10. Conflict

STYLE
● Innovative
● Experimental with form
● Evocative of Irish places and speech patterns
● Vivid reminiscences of childhood, family & community
● Powerful critiques of Ireland’s recent social history
● Uncompromising engagement with politics of gender and class

The Statue of the Virgin at Granards Speaks

Introduction: Paula Meehan wrote this unsettling, powerful poem in response to

a shocking event.

In January 1984 a fifteen-year-old girl named Ann Lovett died

giving birth, in secret, to her baby son, at the hillside grotto on the
outskirts of her home town of Granard, Co. Longford.

She was found by passersby but by then her baby boy, Pat, was
dead and she herself died later that day, 31 January, in hospital. A
whole generation still remembers the name Ann Lovett and the
awful heartbreak and loneliness associated with her story.

Meehan delayed the publication of this poem until 1991 out of

respect for the grief of the family and community
As the title suggests, it is written from the point of view of the
statue, where Ann gave birth.

It can be bitter here at times like this,

November wind sweeping across the border.
Its seeds of ice would cut you to the quick.
The whole town tucked up safe and dreaming,
even wild things gone to earth, and I
stuck up here in this grotto, without as much as
star or planet to ease my vigil.

The howling won't let up. Trees

cavort in agony as if they would be free
and take off — ghost voyagers
on the wind that carries intimations
of garrison towns, walled cities, ghetto lanes
where men hunt each other and invoke
the various names of God as blessing
on their death tactics, their night manoeuvres.
Closer to home the wind sails over
dying lakes. I hear fish drowning.
I taste the stagnant water mingled
with turf smoke from outlying farms.

They call me Mary — Blessed, Holy, Virgin.

They fit me to a myth of a man crucified:
the scourging and the falling, and the falling again,
the thorny crown, the hammer blow of iron
into wrist and ankle, the sacred bleeding heart.
They name me Mother of all this grief
though mated to no mortal man.
They kneel before me and their prayers
fly up like sparks from a bonfire
that blaze a moment, then wink out.

It can be lovely here at times. Springtime,

early summer. Girls in Communion frocks
pale rivals to the riot in the hedgerows
of cow parsley and haw blossom, the perfume
from every rushy acre that's left for hay
when the light swings longer with the sun's push north.

Or the grace of a midsummer wedding

when the earth herself calls out for coupling
and I would break loose of my stony robes,
pure blue, pure white, as if they had robbed
a child's sky for their colour. My being
cries out to be incarnate, incarnate,
maculate and tousled in a honeyed bed.

Even an autumn burial can work its own pageantry.

The hedges heavy with the burden of fruiting
crab, sloe, berry, hip; clouds scud east
pear scented, windfalls secret in long
orchard grasses, and some old soul is lowered
to his kin. Death is just another harvest
scripted to the season's play.

But on this All Souls' Night there is

no respite from the keening of the wind.
I would not be amazed if every corpse came risen
from the graveyard to join in exaltation with the gale,
a cacophony of bone imploring sky for judgement
and release from being the conscience of the town.

On a night like this I remember the child

who came with fifteen summers to her name,
and she lay down alone at my feet
without midwife or doctor or friend to hold her hand
and she pushed her secret out into the night,
far from the town tucked up in little scandals,
bargains struck, words broken, prayers, promises,
and though she cried out to me in extremis
I did not move,
I didn't lift a finger to help her,
I didn't intercede with heaven,
nor whisper the charmed word in God's ear.

On a night like this I number the days to the solstice

and the turn back to the light.
O sun,
centre of our foolish dance,
burning heart of stone,
molten mother of us all,
hear me and have pity.

1. It can be bitter here at times like this, Imagery of bitter cold and
lonliness – harsh alliteration – cruelness

November wind sweeping across the border. Reference to the border – The
Troubles?

Its seeds of ice would cut you to the quick. Things that should grow (seeds)
can be easily eliminated by the ice.

The whole town tucked up safe and dreaming, Contrast between the towns
(personified) and the grotto – resentful

even wild things gone to earth, and I Image of unwanted isolation

stuck up here in this grotto, without as much as

star or planet to ease my vigil. Ironic that the Virgin Mary seeks solace from
stars/planets, not God

2. The howling won’t let up. Trees More aural imagery of the natural world
in pain, like Ann?

cavort in agony as if they would be free Onomatopoeia

and take off — ghost voyagers Metaphor: Likens the trees to ghosts, that
could be carried by the wind

on the wind that carries intimations

of garrison towns, walled cities, ghetto lanes

 where men hunt each other and invoke Violent/destructive connotations
of places - unsettling atmosphere

the various names of God as blessing Religion used as justification for

murderous campaigns – reference to The
Troubles? Further subtle criticism of the church/religion

on their death tactics, their night manoeuvres.

Horrific way of living infects the landscape, reinforcing the poet’s angry,
embattled tone – bleak despairing imagery

Closer to home the wind sails over

dying lakes. I hear fish drowning.

I taste the stagnant water mingled

with turf smoke from outlying farms.

3. They call me Mary — Blessed, Holy, Virgin. Statue appears disconnected

from her religion and her followers – “They” is a bland, anonymous term. She
does not appreciate the adjectives used to
describe her.

They fit me to a myth of a man crucified:

Description of her son’s crucifixion also lacks compassion

the scourging and the falling, and the falling again,

the thorny crown, the hammer blow of iron

into wrist and ankle, the sacred bleeding heart.

They name me Mother of all this grief Alliteration/Consonance of ‘m’

emphasises angry detachment

though mated to no mortal man.

They kneel before me and their prayers

 fly up like sparks from a bonfire

that blaze a moment, then wink out.

Simile: Scepticism towards those Catholics whose prayers are fleeting,
worth little, and quickly forgotten OR
This mother of all grief is unable to help, so prayers go nowhere

3. It can be lovely here at times. Springtime,

early summer.
A move to nature and mortality, more positive/nostalgic
Girls in Communion frocks Contrast with stanza one, now it CAN be
lovely

pale rivals to the riot in the hedgerows Nature more impressive than girls
in communion dresses

of cow parsley and haw blossom, the perfume

Sensual – sights and smells

from every rushy acre that’s left for hay

Alliterative ‘r’

when the light swings longer with the sun’s push north.
Sibilance confirms her awe of nature

4. Or the grace of a midsummer wedding

when the earth herself calls out for coupling Summertime linked to
marriage and sexual desire

and I would break loose of my stony robes, The statue imagines being
intimate with a partner

pure blue, pure white, as if they had robbed

She yearns for physical intimacy

a child’s sky for their colour.

 Sexual imagery is striking and provocative My being

cries out to be incarnate, incarnate,

maculate and tousled in a honeyed bed. Distances herself from

purity/immaculate conception and challenges
readers to imagine her with carnal desires

Even an autumn burial can work its own pageantry. Autumn imagery
chimes with underlying theme of pregnancy

The hedges heavy with the burden of fruiting Alliterative ‘h’ mimics the
heaving effort of bearing fruit/child

crab, sloe, berry, hip; clouds scud east

pear scented, windfalls secret in long

orchard grasses, and some old soul is lowered But fertility is followed by
death (why not life?)

to his kin. Death is just another harvest

scripted to the season’s play

Appreciates realities of life – dying is part of the cycle of nature too.

5. But on this All Souls’ Night there is

(Christian date of prayer and remembrance)

no respite from the keening of the wind.

Tone reverts to a haunting one with the deathly wind – wild,
supernatural scene. Keening = wailing in grief for a dead person
(onomatopoeia).

I would not be amazed if every corpse came risen. Halting, spooky

atmosphere – macabre imagery – corpses return to
escape judgement of the town
 from the graveyard to join in exaltation with the gale,

a cacophony of bone imploring sky for judgement

and release from being the conscience of the town. Did they get love &
forgiveness, or shame & rejection?

6. On a night like this I remember the child

“the child” (innocence) – Ann Lovett (15yrs old)

who came with fifteen summers to her name,

And she lay down alone at my feet.

without midwife or doctor or friend to hold her hand

and she pushed her secret out into the night, Delivery placed at night-time in the
poem (colder, darker, lonlier,
scarier)

far from the town tucked up in little scandals, Secrets and scandals are
synonymous with the Church

bargains struck, words broken, prayers, promises, Nobody in the town offered
her any help/support (too concerned
with scandals/gossip?)

and though she cried out to me in extremis Neither did the statue (The
Church) – she went there to reach out
to God

I did not move, Statue can be excused for not moving? Can the people?

I didn’t lift a finger to help her,

Anaphora

I didn’t intercede with heaven,

nor whisper the charmed word in God’s ear. Virgin Mary ineffectual? Religion
ineffectual?
7. On a night like this I number the days to the solstice

and the turn back to the light.

Statue turns her back on formal religion

O sun,
Places her faith in paganistic connection with nature

centre of our foolish dance,

Foolish dance – metaphor for life on earth Ireland’s attitude to religion,
women and children

burning heart of stone,

molten mother of us all,

hear me and have pity. Statue seeks pity, but for who? Herself? Women?
Children? Everyone?
Hopefully it is directed to those who deserve it – a prayerful lament.
Ending is bleak and despairing

Features of this poem

● 1-3 deal with the statue’s disdain for her life in the grotto
● 4-6 deal with the changing seasons she witnesses (spring = pageantry,
summer
● = sexuality, autumn = pregnancy and death)
● 7-9 offer her recollection of seeing Ann
● Imagery, simile, metaphor, personification
● Alliteration, assonance, consonance, onomatopoeia (“howling”)
● Variety of tones: bitterness, anger, nostalgia
● Ominous, halting, spooky atmosphere
● Hopeless mood
● Themes: nature & spirituality, morality, religion, social justice
 Prayer for the children of longing

Great tree from the far northern forest

Still rich with the sap of the forest

Here at the heart of winter

Here at the heart of the city

Grant us the clarity of ice

The comfort of snow

The cool memory of trees

Grant us the forest’s silence

The snow’s breathless quiet

For one moment to freeze

The scream, the siren, the knock on the door

The needle in its track

The knife in the back

In that silence let us hear

The song of the children of longing

In that silence let us catch

The breath of the children of longing

The echo of their voices through the city streets

The streets that defeated them

That brought them to their knees

The streets that couldn’t shelter them

That spellbound them in alleyways

The streets that blew their minds

That led them astray, out of reach of our saving

The streets that gave them visions and dreams

That promised them everything

That delivered nothing

The streets that broke their backs

The streets we brought them home to

Let their names be the wind through the branches

Let their names be the song of the river

Let their names be the holiest prayers

Under the starlight, under the moonlight

In the light of this tree

Here at the heart of winter

Here at the heart of the city

1. Great tree from the far northern forest The poet addresses the tree,
marvelling at its impressive size, origin and freshness – vivid imagery

Still rich with the sap of the forest

Here at the heart of winter. Alliteration, sibilance & repetition

Here at the heart of the city She proudly locates the tree in what she
considers the true heart of the city (north inner city) - Metaphor

2. Grant us the clarity of ice She speaks to the tree as if it is a higher being,
praying to it, requesting peace, wants it to bring the tranquillity from
whence it came - personification

The comfort of snow Contrast between the natural imagery & urban setting

The cool memory of trees Anaphora, assonance, siblience.

Grant us the forest’s silence The tree is more than a decoration, it is a place
for mourning and remembrance that will offer clarity, comfort, quiet and an
opportunity for reflection

The snow’s breathless quiet

 3. For one moment to freeze -Shift to the harsh reality which she wishes the
tree could freeze/halt (respite from the suffering)

The scream, the siren, the knock on the door -Cacophony of sounds she would
like to quieten

The needle in its track -Anaphora, rhyme, metaphor (“track”), slang

The knife in the back -Sense of betrayal through the idiom/metaphor “knife
in the back” - Imagery: we imagine everything freezing in mid air/before piercing the skin

4. In that silence let us hear -Enjambment links the imagery of addiction in

verse 3 with the imagery of mourning in stanza 4 – she wants to highlight the
suffering caused by addiction

The song of the children of longing -sibilance conveys the innocence of these
children/youths

In that silence let us catch

The breath of the children of longing. -Silence so profound, you could hear
their delicate breath. -Inclusion of title, puts this verse at the centre of the poem. The
message is clear: remember with compassion, those who have passed needlessly, regardless
of the reason.

5. The echo of their voices through the city streets

The streets that defeated them Visually arresting verse – repetition of

“the”/”that”. Run on lines create an urgent atmosphere

That brought them to their knees “brought to their knees” shows how crippling
addiction was – also suggests prayer/desperation? Powerless, hopeless
 The streets that couldn’t shelter them The streets are personified as character in
the lives of the deceased

That spellbound them in alleyways “Spellbound” suggests the all-consuming, evil spell
of drugs

The streets that blew their minds

That led them astray, out of reach of our saving

The streets that gave them visions and dreams Not a romanticised view of her inner
city Dublin but an acknowledgement of social problems

That promised them everything

That delivered nothing

The streets that broke their backs Influence of “the streets” is clear

The streets we brought them home to Guilt of parents “we brought them home to”

6. Let their names be the wind through the branches A return to nature – contrast.
Images of freedom and release

Let their names be the song of the river Anaphora

Let their names be the holiest prayers Triplet – effective persuasion?(seeks to

restore the dignity of the dead) Gives the poem an elegiac feel

7. Under the starlight, under the moonlight

In the light of this tree Repetition of light – sense of hope?

 8. Here at the heart of winter

Here at the heart of the city The poem comes full circle by returning to the “heart”
from earlier – repetition. Ends on a contemplative note

Features of the poem

● Themes of loss, waste, nature, spirituality, social justice

● Anaphora/repetition are used to emphasize the prayer like quality
● Imagery, personification, metaphor
● Contrast between cool beauty of nature and squalid inner city
● Long, incantatory lines, prayer-like rhythms
● Repetition and lack of punctuation intensify the poem’s momentum
● Title suggests young lives that were unfulfilled – they longed for
something better but suffered more
● Tender elegy of love and loss
● Inclusive language creates a sense of community
● Tones: bitter, angry, sympathetic, compassionate, pleading
Hearth Lesson

Introduction:

● This poem explores the theme of relationships, in particular, that of Meehan’s

parents.
● Hearth = floor of a fireplace, but is also a play on the word ‘heart’ (a symbol of
love).
● Meehan seems to learn lessons about love from watching her parents bicker over
money.
● The poet wittily compares her parents to Zeus and Hera (king and queen of the
gods in Greek mythology who endured a fractious marriage)
● The years when her family lived in Sean MacDermott Street were turbulent, as her
parents would regularly fight and argue.

1. Either phrase will bring it back – The speaker is easily reminded of her
parents’ arguments by particular idioms

money to burn, burning a hole in your pocket. Recurring image of

burning/destruction

2. I am crouched by the fire. - The speaker remembers hiding for cover or

bracing herself by the fire, at the hearth perhaps. We get a sense that
there are fewer sparks and less heat here than in the vicinity of her
parents. A poignant image nonetheless. ‘Crouched’ suggests fear and wanting
to go unnoticed.

in the flat in Seán MacDermott Street - A personal poem

while Zeus and Hera battle it out: - The poem is grounded in inner-city Dublin (lends
authenticity and a sense of place), although juxtaposed with characters from Mount
Olympus in Greek mythology

3. for his every thunderbolt

she had the killing glance;- Compares her father’s insults to Zeus’ thunderbolts
and her mothers glare to Hera’s scowl (which could kill) – metaphor/allusion

she’ll see his fancyman

and raise him the Cosmo Snooker Hall; Their exchange is like a game. In poker
‘to see’ is to accept a bet, ‘to raise’ is to come back with a higher counter offer. The
language of gambling. Extended metaphor or poker/poker analogy. Cosmo Snooker
Hall plants the poem firmly in inner-city Dublin

he’ll see her ‘the only way you get any

attention around here is if you neigh’; Direct speech – colloquial. Meehan’s

mother implies she’d want to be a horse to get her husband’s attention (another
reference to gambling)

he’ll raise her airs and graces Sibilance creates a hiss/sharpness/bitterness

or the mental state of her siblings,

every last one of them.

4. I’m net, umpire, and court; most balls Metaphor. The poet inserts herself
into the action, or is it impossible for children not to get caught up in these
matches/games? Tennis analogy
 are lobbed over my head. Content goes over her head – she doesn’t fully
understand

Even then I can judge it’s better

than brooding and silence and the particular hell of the unsaid, Repetition of
‘and’ draws out the experience

or ‘tell your mother…’ ‘ask your father…’. Direct speech reveals the
childishness of the parents – a situation where the child has to
moderate/adjudicate/be a go-between (Meehan was eldest child)

Even then I can tell it was money Despite their efforts to hide the reason for the
arguments, Meehan can sense that money is the reason for the conflict (ongoing
issue “day after day”)

the lack of it day after day,

at the root of bitter words Metaphor (money is the root of the bitterness –
growing under the surface)

But nothing prepared us one teatime

when he handed up his wages.

There is shock/surprise at her fathers change in behaviour. Anecdote

She straightened up each rumpled pound note, then

a weariness come suddenly over her, The hard consonants slow the rhythm,
suggesting her mother’s
actions were deliberate and methodical

she threw the lot in the fire. Dramatic turn of events (irony – SHE’S the one
burning money)

The flames were blue and pink and green, Image of the flames described with excitement
and fascination through rhyme. Vivid cinematic imagery

a marvellous sight, an alchemical scene. Link to alchemy (magic/sorcery associated with

transformation)

could hint at a turning point in the marriage.

‘It’s not enough,’ she stated simply. Her mother gets the last, astonishing word in her brief
response. Sibilance here suggests her mother was not so much bitter as regretful (weary,
not angry)

And we all knew it wasn’t. A tone of resignation/hopelessness hangs over this verse (“we all
knew it wasn’t”)

The flames sheered from cinder to chimney breast

like trapped exotic birds; Simile compare the flames to trapped exotic birds (her mother
is also trapped)

the shadows jumped floor to ceiling, and she’d Personification of the shadows (previous
arguments about money?)

had the last, the astonishing, word. Final line suggests awe at her mother.
 Features of the poem

● Theme of relationships, strength/power of women,

poverty/hardship, childhood
● A tense atmosphere as the poet crouches by the fire
● Imagery, simile, metaphor, allusion, analogy
● Direct speech/quotes makes it personal
● Playful language, despite the serious subject matter
● Variety of tones: nostalgic, realistic, analytical,
regretful, admiring

Hearth Lesson

Introduction

● The speaker (poet) recalls going on an errand for her mother as a child;
she was sent to buy winkles for the family.
● It is a free-verse poem but has musical qualities
● Winkles, or periwinkles, are small edible shellfish. They are common to Irish
shores, found on rocks at low tide. Easy to gather and cheap to buy.
 1. My mother would spare me sixpence and say, Personal poem (my, me, I). Sibilance
creates a sense of rushing/thrill. Hints of poverty (spare sixpence). Mother-child
bond: positive or negative?

‘Hurry up now and don’t be talking to strange

men on the way.’ I’d dash from the ghosts Direct speech – colloquial

on the stairs where the bulb had blown

out into Gardiner Street, all relief. Sense of atmosphere – urban landscape, night,
wet?

A bonus if the moon was in the strip of sky

between the tall houses, or stars out, Tall houses – tenements.

but even in rain I was happy – the winkles

would be wet and glisten blue like little Image of the winkles with alliteration.
Simile

night skies themselves. I’d hold the tanner tight Slender assonance coveys childish
excitement

and jump every crack in the pavement, Childish excitement also shown though verbs
(dash, hold…tight, jump, wave, weave)

I’d wave up to women at sills or those Energetic run-on lines imply a sense of
freedom

lingering in doorways and weave a glad path through Childish superstition (ghosts,
cracks)

men heading out for the night. Socio economic dynamics: women at home, men out
socialising (contrast in/out)
 2. She’d be sitting outside the Rosebowl Bar “She’d be” shows frequency/regularity of
this errand, vividly describes the set up. Working mother – street sellers
associated with inner city Dublin

on an orange-crate, a pram loaded Hyperbole in “loaded”

with pails of winkles before her. Alliteration “pram…pails” (women's work).

When the bar doors swung open they’d leak

the smell of men together with drink

and I’d see light in golden mirrors. The pub inviting (“light…golden…hot”) and she’s
envious of its customers

I envied each soul in the hot interior. Accessible language reinforces the child’s
experience of the adult world – a keen sense of wonder

3. I’d ask her again to show me the right way Child speaker seeks
guidance/instruction. Direct speech – colloquial, Dublin dialect, simple language

to do it. She’d take a pin from her shawl –

‘Open the eyelid. So. Stick it in The small disc covering the periwinkle is compared
to an eyelid – metaphor

till you feel a grip, then slither him out. There is contrast and a knack/skill to
retrieving the mollusc (“grip...gentle”). Onomatopoeic verb “slither” reveals the movement,
sound and juiciness of the winkles being de-shelled

Gently, mind.’ The sweetest extra winkle “Sweetest” adds another sensory element

that brought the sea to me.

 ‘Tell yer Ma I picked them fresh this morning.’ Familiarity between seller, girl and
mother (sense of community)

I’d bear the newspaper twists

bulging fat with winkles

proudly home, like torches. The poem ends on a victorious note. The poet like a

successful adventurer after a mission or quest. Image of the cache. Simile

Features of the poem

● Themes of childhood and growing up, strength & power of women and poverty &
hardship
● Child’s point of view – curiosity about the pub, fear of ghosts
● Narrative style
● Imagery, simile, metaphor
● Rhyme, alliteration, assonance, sibilance & onomatopoeia
● Atmosphere of excitement, real sense of time & place
● A Dublin poem – dialect
● Free verse
● Dramatic elements: characters, storyline, dialogue
● Tones: nostalgic, reflective, insightful, celebratory
● A dynamic picture of working-class communal living in 1960s Dublin. Not entirely
romanticised – friendliness and good humour balanced with poverty and gender
roles. Women are marginalised in a crushingly patriarchal environment. Women
work (winkle seller, prostitutes “lingering in doorways”) and are responsible for
children, while men head out drinking and socialising in the allure of pubs.