Forty-Eight Fragments

By Imelda Maguire

Imelda Maguire is one of my favourite poets. She writes eloquently about themes which are, all at once, local, personal and universal. There is a humanity in Maguire's poetry whose themes range from family to nature to spirituality and transcendence. Across all three collections I am particularly taken with her poems about her late parents.

Imelda Maguire never strays into the trap of nostalgia. She conjures up the past in a Proustian fashion, and achieves this by capturing the sights, smells and sounds associated with memories. I wholeheartedly commend this beautiful collection of 48 Fragments to you. – Eoin Devereux, writer

By turns tender and reflective, humorous and deftly descriptive, the poems in Forty eight Fragments by Imelda Maguire invite us into the poet’s inner world where loss exists and pain is acknowledged but joy ultimately triumphs.

These are poems firmly rooted in the Irish landscape, as in “Pareidolia” where the very rocks are muttering whispers “about our place, our land, our time.” – Angela Patten, In Praise of Usefulness, High Tea At a Low Table: Stories from an Irish Childhood, and other books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Limerick Writers Centre
• Release date: May 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005190590

Imelda Maguire

Imelda Maguire was born in Kildare, grew up in Limerick, and now lives in Co. Donegal. She has read widely at festivals and readings throughout Ireland, and has also been published in a number of journals, nationally and internationally. Her first collection, Shout If You Want Me to Sing, was published in 2004, by Summer Palace Press. Her second, Serendipity, was published by Revival Press in 2015. This is her third poetry collection.

Book preview

Hope is what’s bursting out of the rowan now;

little fluffy leaves promised,

and hope pushes its green way out on the hornbeam,

tiny greenesses along each twig,

shining and promising

more green, more green.

Hope is creeping under the ground,

runners and suckers all headed

for the light, in a jumble of hope,

a muddle of promise, of future,

of something to come.

It’s life, hope is.

It’s life.

Blessing for an Ordinary Day

May this be a day with a word of kindness in it,

a look of love, if even in memory.

May it offer a taste of sweetness.

May the waters be warm for bathing,

cool to drink.

May there be gentle airs about,

a promise of peace.

May something bloom in your garden:

may the blessing double

for what’s surprising, out-of-season,

or a blown-in volunteer.

May a memory come from a great day

to catch you and bring you back for a moment.

May there be colour to be found.

May what rain falls gleam like diamonds

on your window.

May your fire catch first time.

May the wind lift smoke from your chimney,

and when you lay down to sleep,

may dreams come as gifts,

as another gentle crop of blessings,

waiting to be reaped.

What life is about

It’s about everything, isn’t it?

Life – it’s about putting your feet on the earth,

and saying Thank you, Earth, for being there.

It’s about breathing in and breathing out,

and saying Thank you, Air, for what you bring me.

Life – growth, change, seasons,

sap and pulse,

seed and root and branch,

that’s life.

It’s about coming to the place, eventually,

where life ends.

You know – death. It’s about death,

and how that’s a birth again,

to where all your good travels with you,

becomes your limbs and eyes and ears,

to use there, in the next,

the real life,

the one you have been growing towards

all your life.

A Hand

Open hand,

giving hand,

take a hand,

shake a hand,

wave a hand.

The hand that holds,

gives, takes,

is given, is taken,

is held.

The hand that touches,

smooths, gathers,

shapes, wipes.

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