IPTN

Welcome to Irish Poetry Therapy Network - IPTN, a non-profit organisation that provides an environment where participants explore at first hand, through the use of poetry therapy and bibliotherapy, the healing power of poetry as a means of identifying and dealing with various life issues.

Find out more about us and how to join our network by checking out our site.


Confidentiality Agreement: IPTN Sessions are held in a confidential space. Participants, discussions and poems are only published with agreement. These sessions use poetry as therapy and are not psychotherapy sessions.

Sunday 28 October 2018

Writing For Wellness - Group Poem

This is the group's first attempt at a group poem following the first day of Writing For Wellness:

Poems like birds flying around the world
I have never had the patience for knots
the muscle of broken words engulfed
in misunderstandings
warm to my good nature
to self-sabotage and self-flagellate
praising dandelion petals comes easy
when I learn to be.

How long does the tide take to transform glass
the inner grain of gold
the gold is deep within
from the silence comes a cacophony of wisdom
the complex whole, the wet mass of veins
verbs, nerves, brain cells, words
rhythmic crescendo lusty in gale
she's just responding to the signals from the deep
greedy satiated.

Be a tree, remember your sapling days
being grateful
letting go is the hardest
accept difficulty and change is essential for growth
enjoy the gifts of the sensual world.


Saturday 20 October 2018

Writing for Wellness Conference

We are delighted to announce that IPTN 7th annual conference, in collaboration with iaPoetry and Lapidus International, has been a resounding success. A full report on the conference will be published in our next Poetry Therapy Journal and, in the meantime, here is the first of our group poems composed over the weekend.

A group poem is one written by each participant adding a line on the spot, as they feel moved to do so.

Not of the wild sea

Into the blue, blue of the ocean
where the gardens are lush and
the trees sag with mango
my dyspraxic hands fumble
crushing the fragile fruit
I watch with my dream eye
and the world is drowned in tears
for our joy is but one
massaging out the unwanted
like time within a dream
you need to finish out your song
where half-written works of art are complete
the wish-keeper they called me
this is the saddest kiss
I sit here on my patchwork cushion
and float skywards
igniting spider web.