Live Encounters Poetry & Writing September 2025
Education Ouch!, poems by Terry McDonagh.
Education Ouch!
I was only four or five when school started to insist
on tributes to a life without dreams. Tone down child.
I, who had shared lanes with butterflies and slithered
along hedgerows with blackbirds, had to arrive on time
in shoes bulging with squelch and sucking sound.
Behave started on page one. I was a solitary fighter
with a pocket full of stones – being trimmed to
fill a front pew – perfect as any saint or neighbour.
I learned page after page by heart and grew out of
jumping about on cloud nine extravaganza.
Against a shroud of statues and epics, I was
unprepared for the hacks and quips of what to do
when bewildered and happy. I learned rules: a man
could never be asked to strip during singing lessons,
or when licking a plate, slurp and slobber
should be frowned upon and, as I didn’t know
which smile suited, I’d imagine me on a table
doing a colourful swing-about in monkey gear
to shock – to be good craic – to be a bit of a lad
but I’d usually revert and nod to the dictum:
never get above yourself
or speak out of turn in gatherings.
Let’s atone. Atone or pay a price for gyrating like
gypsies in pink and magic. There was no light in noise.
Behave. Atone. Conform. Keep taking the tablets
and smile at other Sunday-morning dog-walkers.
I’d always wanted my fill of magic stones, shenanigans
and skipping like an untrained antelope among trees. I did!
Daydreamer
Dosser
Daydreamer.
Thankfully, the west wind came to my rescue
dropping word-potions-droplets on me and
I’d rejoice keeping them secret to float my feet
to horizons where oceans grew – to where
longboats appeared out of nowhere whistling
and singing of places where colours could fly.
I’d sift through tests, crawl on beds of nails,
often missing the magic in hedgerows – fearing
the clatter of shadows under heavenly influence
and demons crowned in halo attire.
These days, I close my eyes to see horses galloping
on wild sea waves or rolling in flat on white foam
while I wriggle happily with carefree fish.
My real learning had to be learned later.
Landscape in Season
If we can read a landscape we will never be lost.
There is always tree shade, shrub and colour
to guide us through the crescendo of seasons.
Great chunks of winter become a fading memory
when the fresh extravaganza of spring begins
to paint spectacles on canvas of dance and vigour.
Summer is a time for immersion and unravelling on land
and seascapes – on journeys around galaxies of fine wines
and smirking salads in abundance for inexhaustible eyes,
and then – rich as any flame – we have autumn insights
sauntering under a sprinkling of stars with pink fingers
nestling and hidden from the snarl of approaching winter.
If we can read the landscape we will never be lost. We are earth,
air, friends, fire and water nourished by enquiring breezes,
movement in wild grasses, colourful horizons and dogs barking.
©Terry McDonagh
Terry McDonagh, 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 fifteen poetry collections, as well as 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, Indonesian and Arabic. His poem, ‘UCG by Degrees’ is included in the Galway Poetry Trail on Galway University campus. He’s been a voice and narrator on several RTE radio dramas (All Points West production) for young people. 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 collections: A) An eBook ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Not Dead’ – Live Encounters Publishing. B) ‘I Write Because’ – Calendar Road Press. After more than thirty years in Hamburg, he returned to live in County Mayo in 2019.