The first boy I ever loved quoted poetry.
Walking side by side into town by Gardiner Street,
he ensnared me with softly spoken lines:
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.
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At 18, I cycled daily from my home in Crumlin up Dorset Street to the Mater Dei Institute of Education in Drumcondra. It’s almost four decades since those college years, but two memories stand out: the first, falling in love and the inevitable heartbreak. The second, a seemingly inconsequential afternoon, sitting in a warm tutorial room, studying Philip Larkin’s At Grass.
There I was, feeling out of my depth, photocopied page on the table in front of me, drowsy mind struggling to keep up with the questions and commentary around the table. Then, two lines swam into focus: Do memories plague their ears like flies? / They shake their heads. Dusk brims the shadows, and the poet’s low and insistent voice pulled me inside the poem. I could smell the fragrant grass, the musky scent of the horses, watch as the grooms, and the grooms boy, / with bridles in the evening come.
My body still tingles at the memory. It was deeply intimate, language as embodied experience. I forgot to be self-conscious about my lack of knowledge and the pressure to analyse the poem. I followed Larkin’s voice and entered a self-contained reality transcending time and space. A life-changing experience, but only half of it. It would take another 20 years to find the courage to hear my voice and follow it, line after line, into an unfolding poem.
I wonder what my younger self would think of me now, grey-haired and post-menopausal, the mother of four grown-up people, and, miraculously, the author of three poetry collections. I get a bit teary just thinking about her, unsure whether I want to hug or shake her. Why didn’t she write? She was undoubtedly outspoken in her way. And a voracious reader. We came from a working-class background, and my parents were very keen on education, banning television in the house until I, the youngest, turned 18.
Unsure of her place in the world, that 18-year-old knew nobody who wrote and believed she needed permission. She had only read a handful of female poets, and only a few were living. The possibility that she could write or call herself a poet was never considered. That was for other people, with a different kind of intelligence, from a different type of background.
My twenties were a blur. It was the late ‘80s, and Ireland was in a deep recession; I’d qualified as a teacher but could only find subbing work in Dublin. I married at 24, and the kids followed. In my thirties, I began to read poetry daily, and finally, as I approached 40, the insistent voice in my head could no longer be ignored. I began to write. Tentatively at first and then with more confidence. Writing opened me up. It was like breathing fully for the first time, each poem a lungful of pure air. I felt complete. I felt I belonged to me.
A year after I began, I set out to find my writing tribe and found a thriving spoken-word scene in the basement of pubs and pokey venues across Ireland. What a thrill to speak my words aloud, feel listened to, and hear the spellbound voices of other poets and writers. I’d found another way to belong. A year later, I co-founded the peer-led weekly Dublin Writers’ Forum, and we ran for nine years, welcoming in more than 400 writers of all genres, ages and experiences. It was a way of giving back and honouring my younger self, who would have loved to join in. In the meantime, my voice was finding its rhythm and cadence, and my poems found homes in literary magazines and journals and became three collections of poetry thanks to my publishers. Finally, I called myself a poet.
Last week I travelled from my home in Drimnagh up Dorset Street on an electric-blue moped to Dublin City University’s campus in Drumcondra. Over the next two years, it will be a regular journey in my new role as Poet in Residence at Poetry Ireland. Here I am, much more wrinkled, but still the same person inside, given this incredible opportunity to play my part in strengthening Poetry Ireland’s role in ‘Connecting People with Poetry’. My younger self is with me. She can’t quite believe that we’re here. She’ll remind me when I lose the run of myself that there are still many more like her who are waiting for permission to speak. And so many voices and stories are out there from people and communities that have been silenced and excluded. She can’t wait to meet them and listen spellbound to what they say.
Let the poetry begin.
About the Residency
Thanks to Poetry Ireland, Dublin City University and The Brinkerhoff Foundation for this opportunity. I’m following in the footsteps of the inaugural Poetry Ireland Poet in Residence, Catherine Ann Cullen, who is an impressive act to follow! Over the next two years, I’ve been gifted time to work on my craft and, inspired by the residency, produce a body of work. I’ll deliver Poetry Ireland’s Neighbourhood Programme, which seeks to connect people and poetry across the north inner city. The residency will also work closely with Dublin City University to reach their on- and off-campus communities. In addition, I’ll be linking with festivals and events across the island of Ireland and, through online communication, can engage with new and old poetry lovers wherever they are. It will be Poetry as Multiverse – connecting everyone, everywhere, all at once! Dublin City University generously hosts Poetry Ireland in their Cregan Library on St Patrick’s Campus until their historic headquarters at 11 Parnell Square has been refurbished.
About Anne
From Drimnagh in Dublin, Anne Tannam has published three poetry collections, the latest, Twenty-six Letters of a New Alphabet (2021) with Salmon Poetry. Anne is working on her fourth collection with the support of a Literature Bursary from the Arts Council of Ireland and Dublin City Council. Anne is also a spoken-word artist and has performed at festivals and events at home and abroad. With more than 35 years of experience coaching, facilitating and mentoring, Anne has worked with students from four to 84! She supports writers and artists in their personal and professional development through her coaching practice, Creative Coaching. To find out more, visit annetannampoetry.ie and creativecoaching.ie
