In Deep Time - Connemara
Ita O’Donovan’s poetry is timeless, and yet her poems are filled with time passing: stone steps worn to slopes; the eroding western coastline; the fragile memories of a childhood lit by sunlight.
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This is a book of days ‘all the wellingtons left on the island strand / like tree stumps from a sunken forest’ and nights ‘my exhausted head on your lap and you caressing it.’ Here are lyric poems of grace and commemoration, humour, sensuality and sadness. O’Donovan’s poetry binds together the everyday and the mythological, the mountains and the sky, ‘the crevices of the mind’ and the crevices of the body. These are lived poems, worn, made, and touched by daily life. You turn a page and step into grief or wonder, the observations are lit with surprise.
A Praise Poem
Curled on a cushioned rock
you’ve carved out for me,
there’s an incessant humming,
busy until a bumble bee
full stops with a buzz.
Errisbeg mounts to a blue sky.
Little puppet dolls on your fuchsia
dance in scarlet, as another bee
dives into the bell of an orange nasturtium.
There’s a whirr of blurred wings
and a commentary from the occasional finch
before he flies in arabesques.
Sun in September creates urgency
yet the sea is lazy,
hardly brimming under seaweed.