Tralee Noel’s poet was pleasantly surprised by the nomination for a national award


Tralee native and poet Noel King is one of four nominees for Irish Poem of the Year at the An Post Irish Book Awards to be presented at the National Convention Center on November 23.

oel, who spoke to The Kerryman this week and said he was pleasantly surprised to hear he had been nominated, is in the running for his poem ‘Glissando’ which you can read below.

“I’m delighted of course and honestly it was kind of a surprise. Over the years I might have had something that I thought would have a good chance of happening somewhere then the year even where you don’t think about it, it happens, ”he said.

“I think maybe it’s her [Glissando] simplicity that made him stand out in the eyes of people or helped him strike a chord. He says what he says and it’s short and simple and I think it’s also understandable, ”Noel continued.

Continuing, Noel was keen to express his thanks to ‘Cyphers’ magazine after their publication of the poem made him eligible to be chosen for the awards.

“Without them I just wouldn’t talk to you now because for me to be nominated the poem had to be published in a magazine between September 2020 and October 2021, so I owe them a huge thank you,” Noel said.

Noel was born and still lives in Tralee and his works include poetry, haiku and short stories published in over a thousand publications in thirty-eight countries.

He has also edited over fifty books by other authors and served as poetry editor for the Revival Literary Journal (Limerick Writers Center). He was a winner of the William Allingham short story competition and shortlisted for the 2011 Gregory O’Donoghue International Poetry Prize.

Anyone interested in helping Noel win the ‘Irish Poem of the Year Award’ can do so by going to vote on the Irish Book Awards website here:

Please vote with one email vote by November 15th.

Finally, anyone interested in learning more about Noel’s work can visit his website at

Read “Glissando” below:


The sister played glissando after glissando,

annoy the hands of all of us.

Mom, she’s going to do the piano wrong,

I complained, but my mom just shrugged and smiled.

The “last charge” was when a visiting neighbor boy

who didn’t have a musical note in mind

clenched his fist on his shoulder blade

and used his elbow for a 5 octave glissando.

With a warm face I pushed him away,

grabbed the stool, played an angry fugue by Chopin.

Coming back to the sister, she started it,

recording on an old Ferguson recorder,

reel to reel, playing backwards,

wishing she had the technology to slow it down:

try to do

the perfect glissando;

something we did

with our lives since, the sister and me.

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