Bernard Kennedy

Rating: 5
Rating: 5

Bernard Kennedy Biography

Born Rathfarnham, Dublin, Ireland of Waterford Chemist father and Longford mother
Educated De La Salle College, Churchtown, Dublin.
Holy Cross Seminary, ordained 1979.
Taught Religious Studies in Schools, Sallynoggin, and Balbriggan, Dublin.
Trained as a Freudian Psychoanalyst, Holds M.A. University of Sheffield,2000, and,
M.Sc.School of Psychotherapy, University College Dublin (2002)
works at Beechwood Parish, Ranelagh, Dublin. www.beechwoodparish.com
Has written Essays for
The Furrow (thefurrow.ie)
The Letter (The letter.ie)
Intercom, Studies, (www.irishstudiesreview.ie) and other publications.& Lacanian- Psychoanalysis (online)
email kennedybernard3@gmail.com
twitter @BernardKenned

Bernard Kennedy Comments

Arthur 27 June 2018

http:thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com Hope you subscribe

0 0 Reply
Larry 12 February 2018

I like this poem, its solemn simplicity with a sense of brokenness and joy. The last line works well for me, too, as many others. He would be proud of your understanding and love.

2 0 Reply
K Carlton Johnson 21 April 2014

Bernard, I am a poet myself, and I enjoyed your poems, they remind me of Yates and Heaney, but in a more Christian way. I have often had an idea to write a study of Catholic poetry. I often think we have lost a tradition that included both Dante and in Modern times Gerard Manly Hopkins. Your work is like a bridge. I would love to hear your response to this

6 0 Reply
Bernard kennedy 14 December 2021

Hopkins says it best, 'the world is charges with rhe grandeur of God it will ooze out'.

1 0 Reply
Michael Morgan 30 November 2012

Short, spare, arresting piece with plenty of word magic. (Walker) Superb, in my opinion.

7 0 Reply

The Best Poem Of Bernard Kennedy

Old Faithful Dog

I never thought him dead.
Only running in the park,
and sitting stretched by fire,
or with his paw,
pushing the dish,
' more water now'.

And barking, for post,
and visitor, and exits,
from his home domain,
and up the stairs at ten,
and down again at six.

A rhythm of memories
and habits.
Until his back legs gave,
and the vets scanning eyes
' he has had a good and happy life'.
And my heart sank.

I held him as he passed,
and watched him go,
to another field or park.
This time without a leash.

I can still sense him here,
in the house,
on the staircase just past ten,
and at the duvets' edge.

Luther was the collie's name.

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