Recalling Anthony Cronin

Cronin_Bloomsday

Anthony Cronin, second left, at the Bloomsday commemoration on Sandymount beach, Dublin, in 1954, with, from left, John Ryan, Flann O’Brien, Patrick Kavanagh and Thomas Joyce

Tonight at City Hall, Dublin, the wonderful life, and works of Anthony Cronin will be celebrated by his family, friends, and people. This was one man among us that certainly made a marvelous contribution to all artists and Arts, not just in Ireland but globally.

An unassuming, humble man, of enormous integrity.  He always had others and their struggles, particularly artists, to the forefront of all he did, all his days.

His contribution in our lives, we will carry and live it on and hand it down for the generations to come.

Tonight, we salute a true prophet, visionary and philosopher.  One of the great Irish thinkers and intellects.

Thank you, Mr. Cronin.

Prophet
by Anthony Cronin

When word came back to that small whitewashed village,
Strange rumours of his ways and of his talk,
The neighbours shook their heads and didn’t wonder,
His mother was bewildered more than proud.
And coming into lamplit towns at evening,
Seeing the warm red glow behind the blinds,
Lying awake in strange rooms above rivers,
He thought he would be like them if he could.

And when at last the courteous powers took notice
And nailed him to that awful point in time,
He knew that what he meant would be forgotten
Except by some as lonely as himself.

 

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I gcuimhne Danny Sheehy

Blasket-Island

Blasket Island by Norman Ackroyd (RA)

 

IN MEMORY OF DANNY SHEEHY – DANNY AN TSÍTHIGH 

Today we lost Danny Sheehy -Danny an tSíthigh or Domhnall Mac Síthigh, poet, boat-maker, sailor, teacher,  Irish language expert, Kerryman and absolute gentleman.

Thank you for all you gave us and the love you instilled in us for our culture, land, ancestors and Irish ways.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.

 

 

Lightenings      viii

The annals say: when the monks of Clonmacnoise
Were all at prayers inside the oratory
A ship appeared above them in the air.
The anchor dragged along behind so deep
It hooked itself into the altar rails
And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill,
A crewman shinned and grappled down the rope
And struggled to release it. But in vain.
‘This man can’t bear our life here and will drown,’
The abbot said, ‘unless we help him.’ So
They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back
Out of the marvellous as he had known it.

 

by Seamus Heaney

 

POET DANNY SHEEHY DIES AFTER BOAT OVERTURNS OFF SPAIN https://www.rte.ie/news/2017/0610/881677-spain/