Favourite Friday: non-Irish bands playing Irish/Celtic music

I don’t know how and when it started, but for many years now I’ve been listening to Irish music, Celtic, medieval, folk …

Apart from real Irish bands there are some great groups from other countries. Let me present to you two of my favourite non-Irish Irish folk bands: Fiddler’s Green and Orthodox Celts.

Fiddler’s Green from Germany: Wikipedia says about them “Fiddler’s Green is a German band from Erlangen that plays independent Irish speedfolk, formed in 1990.” and “The band has kept up the mix of traditional Irish or Scottish songs and self-written tracks, though the self-written tracks have progressively become less and less folky.” So yeah, not that traditional, but in my opinion the influence of Irish folk is still present in their newer original songs. Some of my favourite songs by them are “Lannigan’s Ball” (very Dublin-centric and up-beat,  it makes me happy every time), “Yindy” (the original video is weird and the song a little dark, but great for those “f*** you world, I’ll keep dancing” moments), “Part of it” (one of my go-to songs for depressed days when I feel alone), and the beautiful ballad “Stay by my side”


Orthodox Celts from Serbia: they play a lot of traditional songs, sometimes putting their own spin on them (for example they sing “she’s the belle of the Belgrade city” instead of “Belfast city” in the song “I’ll tell me Ma”, which never fails to make me smile). Their quirky style is adorable, it’s so funny to watch the singer’s face during “Star of the County Down”.

winter in my blood (a haiku)

  hands as cold as ice
despite all the hot water
winter in my blood …


Somehow a semi-subconscious part of my mind decided the 5-7-5 syllable structure of haikus would be an appropriate way of chunking information and ideas for a quick output between whatever things I do all day. So I’ll write some more short poetry every now and then, I guess.

seasons of writing

red pages slipping from between my fingers
words found and, unspoken, forgotten.
my unlikely muse went to sleep
as did the ghosts of old days.
so many leaves to turn
from golden red to yellow on the trees
autumn came
with force
winter will trample snow from its boots
shivering mitten-clad hands will take off the woolen knitted word hat
exhaling letters written on crisp violet pages by the fireplace.
cold roads, white walls
a room of square folios in pale spring green

delivered to my wooden heart.

under the golden ginkgo biloba

Under the golden ginkgo biloba
I stood and gazed at all its autumn splendour, ivy entwined,
wondering why I stood there alone
in the rain

I saw its blazing glory when I had passed the lawn,
longingly gazing at the green
wondering if anyone would be there to play
if it wasn’t for the rain

On that rainy afternoon, just before dusk
I discovered anew
a sense of wonder
standing under the golden ginkgo biloba.


Pictures just don’t do this beauty any justice. It’s the old ginkgo tree, overgrown with ivy, standing next to the university building in which I spent many days in the last few years.

poet’s mind on the run

Maybe a poet’s mind has to be on the run most of the time in order to create and cover enough ground for all those thoughts.
So keep writing, keep writing, and never stop.
When the paper runs out, write on snow and concrete and whale backs.
Write on lanes and avenues,
keep scrawling and thinking and keep the words coming,
fill city voids with cursive and cover scycraper walls in the boldest letters you can muster.
When the words run out, keep running.
A poet’s mind on the run will cover miles of desertlands,
but at the end of the day there’s a chance to rest on tree stumps beneath clouds of words,
and the words they will keep falling, falling in place
in a poet’s mind on the run.





Dear brain, you are very annoying. Please shut up for a moment. I’m not interested in purple jellyfish and their connection to street lamps. Arrgh. Anyone wants to trade brains with me? >.<