Author Archives: diarmuidfitzgerald

I am a poetry and prose writer. I write poetry, haiku, haibun, short stories as well as novels. Two haiku collections have been published by Alba Publishing (www.albapublising.com). Thames Way appeared in 2015 and A Thousand Sparks in 2018. Poems have appeared in The Stinging Fly, Cyphers, Boyne Berries, The Blue Nib, Flare, Impossible Archetype, and Crannóg. A poem of mine won 2nd place in the Ballyroan Library Competition 2018 and again in 2020. I won the Individual Artist Bursary from South Dublin County Council 2018. I won a scholarship to attend the Yeats Summer School 2018 in Sligo. Sixteen poems of mine were Highly Commended in the Blue Nib Chapbook Contests IV and V in 2019. A poem was shortlisted in the Bray Literary Festival in 2018. A poem was long-listed in Over The Edge Poetry Competition 2019. A haibun received an honourable mention in the Genjuan Haibun Competition 2021. The Singing Hollow, my first collection of poems, has been accepted for publication by Alba Publishing.

Front and back cover for The Singing Hollow

In further news I got permission from the Paul Henry estate to use the photo of The Only Tree in the Burren. Whyte’s Auctioneers kindly gave the photo for free to use. Thanks to them. Anne Tannam and Catherine Ann Cullen kindly did the blurbs on the back. Thanks to them also. I am currently working on the final proofs of the manuscript and checking for errors and punctuation issues. I hope to have a face to face book launch sometime in late November or early December 2021.

Poem in the Waxed Lemon

A poem of mine Bottle Bank Therapy was published in the Waxed Lemon. I am delighted with that and look forward to reading the journal.

Bottle Bank Therapy

On the first day of ease from the lockdown,
I bring a box full of bottles, green, brown, clear 
and blue. They shine in the sun. Glass shards litter the ground.
I pick my way carefully to the bank and select a bottle. 
The neck is smooth. I lob it down the hole, 
listen to the cacophony of the breaking, 
a joyous crashing sound, the way the glass clinks 
through glass, makes the sound of rain. It is heaven
to me as I let go and keep letting go and think how will 
we gather our smashed selves into a new whole.