Friday, September 9, 2016

'Summer Rain' - Launch Details

I'm delighted to report that my new collection Summer Rain will be launched in Books Upstairs, Dublin, on Tuesday 27th September at 6.30pm. I'm truly honoured that the wonderful poet Peter Sirr has agreed to introduce the work on the night. I'm very much looking forward to it. Hope I may seem some of you there -  if, naturally, you happen to be in the Dublin area.

For those who may be busy (or live far beyond the fine climes of Ireland) and might be interested, the collection is now available from The Books Depository. They provide free worldwide delivery which is a great saving.

You can find it at:

Monday, July 25, 2016

New collection 'Summer Rain' - cover

I've been a lazy blogger of late but mainly because I was working on completing my third collection, Summer Rain. I'm delighted to say that the book has gone through its final edit and is now with the printer. It will appear in a few weeks time and I will add links to the many and varied places it can be purchased - should you be so inclined to do so.

For now, here's the cover and blurb. Hope it catches your eye!

Noel Duffy’s third collection, Summer Rain, takes the form of three sequences: the first, a drama, set in late 19th century Vienna, recounting the final years of Austrian physicist Ludwig Boltzmann’s life. The second is a series of fifteen observational nature poems based on the cycle of water, reimagining the ideas of the Romantic Poets through the lens of 21st century knowledge. The final sequence is a series of intimate dramatic monologues unfolding in modern day Dublin as the ‘Summer Rain’ of the title drifts in and out of the awareness of the ten speakers. 

Praise for Noel Duffy’s Previous Collections

‘Duffy understands poetry. It’s his tradition, and he has a curatorial urge to see it thrive.
 He just gets down to the heart of things and gives us poems that matter.’

Poetry Ireland Review

‘Duffy’s work is rooted in a deep study of his medium and the poems in  In The Library
of Lost Objects work in concert in a way very few books achieve.’


‘A striking feature is the author’s fascination with the sciences, formal and natural... following in the illustrious footsteps of other scientist-poets: immunologist Miroslav Holub, biochemist Jean Bleakney, polymath Mario Petrucci, and fellow physicist Iggy McGovern.’


‘There is throughout this book a sense of continuity through history... that paradoxically accommodates change through experience and experiment. As such, it’s not just
Duffy’s education in experimental physics that shows throughout this book but the
influence of science on the world of emotions and personal experience.’

The Lake

‘The truth is that the poems sing with the pure ideas of a poet who has honed
his craft, but still remains full of wonder.’

Write Out Loud

Friday, April 29, 2016

How E.E. Cummings Writes a Poem - by nerdwriter1 (youtube)

In 1991, after finishing my third year at university studying experimental physics, I spent a summer working in Washington State in the US. On my way home, I stopped off for a visit with an American friend who was then living in the East Village in New York. We had a wonderful four days hanging out and schmoozing, enjoying the boho atmosphere of the sidewalk book stalls and street-side cafes.

As I was about to leave my friend gave me a copy of E.E. Cummings' work simply titled 100 Poems and on my return to Dublin I became obsessed with this collection and read it over and over (and to my friends insofar as you read Cummings aloud and for as long as they could tolerate my enthusiasm for it). It certainly acted as a very distinct counterpoint to the trials of studying advanced physics, especially as my final exams approached. Perhaps now, looking back, I can see how the cryptic, puzzle-making technique Cummings used so often - even in apparently straightforward pieces like this one - attracted a science-minded acolyte such as myself, albeit one tuned then to a very different subject.

Recovering 100 Poems from my bookshelf now, I see that it is the most thumbed and battered poetry collection among all the others, sellotape keeping the spine - just about - intact. I was reminded of it again when I stumbled across this close reading of a poem by Cummings on youtube by someone using the (very apt) moniker nerdwriter1. It's a highly insightful piece and I particular enjoyed his examination of the use of parenthesis in Cummings' work (a very nerdy point in itself!).Oddly, seeking out 100 Poems today, I realised I haven't read Cummings for quite some time so thanks to this video, found myself excited to revisit it.

So here is nerdwriter1's sharp-nosed analysis of 'i carry your heart', with an audio reading of the poem by the poet himself:

Sunday, March 27, 2016

'In the Shadow of the Patriot' - poem

Tomorrow marks the centenary of the Easter Rising in Dublin in 1916, the failed insurrection that ultimately changed public opinion in Ireland and led to the country's future independence from Great Britain as a self-declared republic. Many celebrations and state events have been taking place this weekend and will continue tomorrow. I haven't been asked to do any readings (I feel like the only poet in Ireland not to!) but, in truth, Irish history and Irish identity have never really been central themes for me as a writer. All that said, I feel very proud to have been born in an independent Ireland and very much appreciate the sacrifice of those now remembered in schoolbooks and whose statues populate the city streets of Dublin where I live.

So I thought today to post a poem from a new sequence I'm working on which explores the nature of memory and forgetfulness, both personal and cultural. To this end, here's a short piece from this new work (with all the provisos about the completeness of new poems that must apply). It's not a poem of Yeatsian grandeur in the historical sense nor is it intended to be, but somehow it feels indirectly apt in its own way to share, I hope. After all, those men and women who fought (and sometimes died) one hundred years ago did so, I believe, so that such casual moments among the living may happen in the shadow of their past. We remember them, of course, and live among their ghosts, but life continues on also. A hundred years on from the Easter Rising, here's my slant offering. I should add, it was written some months ago and not with today's commemorations in mind.

In the Shadow of the Patriot

The old quarter at dusk. The rain starts again.
A fire engine passes by to a rising and falling pulse, 
echoing down cobbled streets and alleyways 
rebounding against the tall windows and soot-grimed
red-brick buildings, the bars where the ghosts
of the dead linger, haunting the granite flagstones
with their long-lost footfalls... The late evening buses
pull away from pavements in turn, raindrops marking
fleeting circles in the puddled water of the drains:
and the young couple who stand by the statue
of the old Patriot, his hands and face weathered
to history and forgetfulness as they pull each other 
closer, their lips touching to warm softness.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Theo Dorgan & Paula Meehan in Conversation - TV

It's St Patrick's Day so seems fitting to post something of interest about Irish poetry to mark the occasion. So here's a piece I spotted a few days ago which is a very engaging and wide-ranging conversation between poet, broadcaster and novelist Theo Dorgan and playwright and poet Paula Meehan, the current holder of the Ireland Chair of Poetry. The piece was recorded by HoCoPolItSo, Howard County Poetry & Literary Society, for St Patrick's Day last year. It's really worth watching and runs to 30 minutes with a full bibliography of each poet's work at the end of the show.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Poems Upstairs: Science Meets Poetry - VIDEO

I'm delighted to be able to link to a video recording made of a reading I did with fellow-physicists Kate Dempsey and Iggy McGovern as part of the Poems Upstairs series at Books Upstairs, supported by Poetry Ireland. 

The reading marked the anniversary of Bequerel’s discovery of radioactivity and was introduced by Jim Malone, Robert Boyle Professor (Emeritus) of Medical Physics at Trinity College Dublin.

I read first, followed by Kate and then Iggy. There is also a Q&A and then we all read one final piece. The entire video runs to just over an hour and special thanks must go to Eoin McGovern for documenting the event.

So here it is. Hope you enjoy it, if you can spare an hour of your time.

The video file is too large to embed here but you can find the reading at the following link on Vimeo:

Monday, October 19, 2015

'Rock Ammonite' at the 'Poetry & Science Hub'

This poem and commentary first appeared on the University of Liverpool's 'Centre for Poetry & Science' website, edited by poet Deryn Rees-Jones. More content on this very fascinating marriage of ideas can be found at the Poetry & Science Hub.

Rock Ammonite

The surprising simplicity of it
there among the shoal:
little earth-memory,
spiralling palimpsest.
It is the alpha and omega
of necessity, the first word
and the last of all
argument. And if the eye
is steady retrace the slow-
turning of centuries
and descend step-wise,
down the tight curve
of its spine to the centre
about which all appears
to turn. And there,
to close your eyes
and push one step further,
past language and origins
into the dark beginnings
of it all.

from In the Library of Lost Objects (Ward Wood Publishing, London, 2011) 

As the French theorist Gaston Bachelard points out in The Poetics of Space, stones represent a special place in our imagination. They are symbols of permanence, at least to everyone except a geologist, who would view them undoubtedly as dynamic. It is no surprise that the grand monuments of any great society – from the Neolithic ‘time chamber’ at Newgrange to the Arc de Triomphe – are made of stone. They are there to endure, to suggest power over time; to defy time for as long as possible.
We often think of ourselves as being in possession of a Self, as Jung would put it, or an Ego and Id as Freud claimed. In a way though, we have many selves. There is the weight of personal memory and the biographical self; there is the social self, which is probably the one that doesn’t make it into poems; there is also the set of ideas we have encountered and assimilated giving us, what we might call, a philosophical self. In my collection In the Library of Lost Objects I have tried to explore these different ‘selves’ in a way that they become interconnected and necessary to each other, the small or large personal dramas played out against the backdrop of an impersonal canvas: deep time as well as lived time.
If stones signify permanence, fossils represent a special case. They are life preserved in rock. As such they are a kind of double-image of the notion of permanence, giving us both a glimpse of what they were as living things, and their concrete existence in the present as “little earth-memories”. Their lives are short-lived, but through the process of petrifaction, they possess an after-life, surviving across vast tracts of time to present themselves to us behind glass in display cases.
This poem is based around a simple conceit: that the spiral form of the ammonite represents both its own cause and the spiral of evolution itself. We push back in time and “descend step-wise / down the tight curve / of its spine”. This brings us to the origins of life itself and beyond to the point of unknowing before “the dark beginnings of it all.”
In an earlier draft, that phrase “of it all” read “of the world”. The word world is one of most powerful in the language, yet here it seemed too abstract and general. The more casual “of it all” seemed to suggest something broader and bigger, yet more mysterious: life itself.
When CP Snow delivered his famous lecture in 1959 on the “two cultures” – the sciences and the humanities – they seemed to him at that time to be growing ever further apart. It is an observation that is probably even more true now. I think to resolve this we need to understand that the science and the arts can live side by side and both serve a function, though it would be simplistic to say it is the same function. Science gives us objective knowledge whereas a poem can never be verifiable in the same way as a scientific argument is. It is not a theorem and its proof.
Yet, at the same time, I believe the best poems endure because they represents a different type of truth, though one that is more persuasive than empirical. It gives us a sense of the subjective and emotional nature of our daily existence. In other words, where science excels at giving us definitive, objective knowledge, poetry and the arts are the instruments of expressing the experiential nature of our lives – even when encountering something as seemingly abstract as a fossil, as I try to show in this poem.  I very much hope that poetry can engage with and be informed by the rich insights, vocabularies, and discoveries of science. As someone with a background in natural sciences, I draw on these subjects not just for effect but because they feel integral to the way in which I respond to, and write about, both the personal and philosophical aspects of life. In the end, all these things can connect and inform each other. That is my hope, at least.