http://slow.writerscafe.org/scottdebuitleir The original writings of author Scott De Buitléir en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775978428 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A reflection on being healthy and safe during the pandemic. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2764977/ Translated from the original Irish (Gaelic) version, "Gairdín na Cúirte" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2088845/ Or: "Not Every Lattè Is Some Classist Sin" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2088844/ After Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2088629/ I still remember Walking into that shop on Parliament Street, Smelling the incense burning by the counter Feeling the energy As the sunlight played with countless crystals, And whichever faeries came to dance lightly around them. I remember still Looking through it.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2087681/ A collection of various haiku I've written over the years. No connection between them - just wanted to have them all in one spot! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086760/ A love poem at home http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086127/ My man teases me That I’m more like you Than I know (or care to admit) But if anything, I know too well.No doubt, I am a Mammy’s boy, But I am too a father’s son; That family hairline, those moments wry, Those fumbling times when we try.But I’d r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086126/ Translated from the Irish Gaelic, Nóiméad sa Chaifé http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086124/ Inspired by the poem of the same title by Logan Preston. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086122/ How pure and gentle The light this evening shines; A final performance, perfectlyCaptivating its weary crowdI walk in the pools of dancing Light, playful and innocent, Cleansed after the icey stormOnly to reveal this serene gift Which makes jewels of droplets Left on th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086121/ In Memoriam Con O'Connor, the late father of my partner. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086118/ A few months ago in a bar near where I grew up, I spotted someone who used to be in the same class as me in school. This is my attempt to reconcile memories of childhood bullying back then. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086064/ I have my gift of language from my mother: Raising me to speak with clarity, Like the high-kings and chieftains of old, In both Saxon tongue and Gaelic breath. I learned so much more than just words, When bhí is pronounced as "vee", And beidh can be "be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2086041/ Dedicated to the memory of Mark Lowe Fisher (1953–1992) and those who died during the AIDS epidemic. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2085922/ On an almost empty street at night, You took my hand in yours as we walked, Proud of our lasting, steadfast love. The night was mild, clear,After heavy rains washed clean The air, so we could breathe, free. You did the same in the Castro; Under Californian sun (too hot .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2085882/ After a conversation with a friend in Belfast, where he told me he asked some of his friends if they knew of me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2085871/ Coming to terms with my once-vehement hatred for the Irish Catholic church. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2085776/ Translated from the Irish Gaelic, "Parthas" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2083997/ An internal battle for mental health http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2074363/ A description of walking in Belfast LGBTQ Pride, in Northern Ireland in 2018. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2074361/ A poem about writing, sowing, family, and life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2074360/ A poetic address to my younger self http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2074209/ A love poem about a charming elderly couple in a pub in Cork, Ireland http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/2074206/ Written during a vacation/holiday to Portugal in 2017, this poem describes a welcome moment of serenity for the writer. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/scottdebuitleir/1995674/