Sketch Tomás Baleztena
My formative years were spent on a farm in the West of Ireland. In my poem “On Remembering”, I have included verses that even today can transport me back to that happy time.
As a writer who grew up in Ireland, it is in my humble opinion, impossible, not to be influenced by the poetry that I believe is Ireland. I could of course be biased. The beauty of her landscape is inspiring. Many have lauded her-many have written of her enslavement-some have cursed her- some long for her, as did W.B.Yeats in his poem “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”.
Then there are the sons and daughters of Ireland-the sons and daughters of Róisín Dubh. Those who tell stories far into the night of the Banshee whom they will swear foretold of an unexpected death. They sing songs of emigrant ships that will have the stranger wondering if he can be born again as an Irishman.
My contemporaries will remember my having my head in books of poetry or with a scribble pad and pen in my hand. I met with the visionary and poet William Blake, and with Oscar Wilde- They became my constant companions- Wilde would become one of my greatest influences whom, many years later, would lead a now grown up son to accommodate me with an overnight stay at the Cadogan Hotel and sleep in the very room where Oscar was to be arrested.
I later went on to write a piece on the “Letters of Oscar Wilde” which was published in the Times. As this was my first foray into the world of public writing, I believed this opportunity to be Oscar’s gift to me . (See under “Other Words”)
Writing is now a major part of my life and although solitary, the written word continues to introduce me to aspects of life that I hope I can introduce to others who might read my words.