Live Encounters Poetry & Writing January 2026.
Farewell, poems by Terry McDonagh.
Farewell
Tidying as he went along,
he gathered his things,
packed them gingerly
and left for the station
as the last of the embers died.
On the opposite platform
a flaking wall and wild flowers
had their own sense of place.
This time
he inhaled their boundless aroma
as if they were words
dipping
into
red wine.
Floral-wet patterns were shaping
his future
in a frenzy of colour and chance.
An older woman caught his eye,
waved a little and smiled.
Farewell.
The Law Graduate and the Stolen Bicycle
Admittedly, it was weekend and very late
which meant the policeman
could have committed a grave error of judgement
even a blunder, error, lapse or slip – but no,
only the departed could not have seen
the law graduate swinging a loose leg
hither and tither over a crossbar
like one coming down with love sickness,
like a mythical mushroom
trying to find its way onto a film set.
I live so far away, Officer.
The bike was lying there
and I’m a law graduate
on my way home from
a holy city in the Orient
hoping to avoid sunburn
and lads along the way.
There is no crime.
A restless air filled the darkness.
He wondered if she was trying
to take the mickey – if she was waiting
for the next breath to come upon her
– lovely and all as she was –
before the east began to fill with sun.
But the voice of reason will say
blushes can be hard to detect before dawn,
and disturbing moments
can come upon an officer
on duty – at first, a disturbance
that might seem nothing louder
than the sting of feral sand
by a windy seashore or
the yelp of a rabbit in the jaws of a fox,
but when a wily love-potion
darts out of a nowhere corner,
lost to all eyes except one,
and thoughts – soft as sighs
fix upon an unlikely law graduate,
there comes a cry of one struck
by one steamy sentiment after another.
I am almost not myself he pleads
and being more poem than person,
I call upon the doves of the air
and mockingbirds on their perches
to advise me on how to get a stolen bike
to vanish and find its own way home.
In the blazing blue of morning,
they were not rational.
Even with closed eyes, he could see
she hardly touched the ground.
When he dared to peep again,
the bike that had come between them
had evaporated into what was left of the dawn chorus.
Why Other Cities
Why other cities when I could have stayed put
to mumble and mutter like a maverick monk
on the three-mile trek between home and town.
I must have wanted to despair elsewhere – to have
my heart broken in other languages and streets – a
drifter without a timeline – a king without a castle
on perfumed merry-go-rounds heading for astray.
I hassled and harangued myself up and down dykes,
hoping fallen angels might appear to me with gifts
while I – a self-inflicted wanderer – dug into fragile fantasy
on the banks of a great river – peering at the far horizon
for fresh momentum – unaware of the serenity in water.
A new day did come. My head fell into place. I began
to hiss with the flow and rejoice in the hammer and
tongs of ships – to wallow in the taste of wispy-new aura.
I am no longer there but, one day, I will return to Hamburg
if only to dream.
© Terry McDonagh
Terry McDonagh, Irish poet and dramatist has worked in Europe, Asia and Australia. He’s taught creative writing at Hamburg University and was Drama Director at Hamburg International School. Published eleven poetry collections, letters, drama, prose and poetry for young people. In March 2022, he was poet in residence and Grand Marshal as part of the Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations in Brussels. His work has been translated into German and Indonesian. His poem, ‘UCG by Degrees’ is included in the Galway Poetry Trail on Galway University campus. In 2020, Two Notes for Home – a two-part radio documentary, compiled and presented by Werner Lewon, on The Life and Work of Terry McDonagh, The Modern Bard of Cill Aodáin. His latest poetry collection, ‘Two Notes for Home’ – published by Arlen House – September 2022. He returned to live in County Mayo in 2019. www.terry-mcdonagh.com