By Frank Fahy
Kilkenny poet Kathleen Phelan has published her first full collection of poetry, Missing and Other Poems, a book that blends memory, humour, and history with the unflinching honesty of lived experience. The book, published by the Write-on Group under the guidance of editor Frank Fahy, gathers almost sixty poems ranging from playful verses about childhood to powerful reflections on injustice, loss, and endurance. For Kathleen, the journey to publication has been both unexpected and deeply personal.
“I always wrote for my own amusement,” she explains. “I never imagined my poems would travel beyond the pages of my notebook. But encouragement from others – and one very special project here in Kilkenny – gave me the confidence to keep going.”
That project was the MacDonagh Junction Famine Memorial, where her poem ‘Workhouse Child’ was selected by Kilkenny County Council to commemorate those who once lived in the old workhouse. Kathleen was asked to represent a young girl known only in the records as Child C11. In her poem, Kathleen imagined her as a five-year-old, gave her the name Saoirse, and let her speak.
“I wanted her to have a voice, even after all this time,” Kathleen says. “To see the poem inscribed in stone, and to know it will be there long after us, was very moving. It made me feel I could do more.”
That single commission became the spark for Missing and Other Poems, where ‘Workhouse Child’ sits alongside poems of domestic humour, cultural memory, and quiet strength.
The poems
The title piece, ‘Missing’, portrays a 90-year-old woman imagining herself fading into the mossy landscape while wearing a hat her sister once gave her. It is haunting, surreal, and beautiful – a perfect touchstone for the rest of the collection.
Other poems highlight Ireland’s difficult past. ‘Churching’ revisits the trauma endured by generations of women forced through a ritual of purification after childbirth. ‘Blessings’ evokes the Great Famine through the simple prayer of a farmer counting his potato drills and ‘The Ocean Kept Your Name’ explores the unspoken grief of losing a loved one.
But Kathleen’s writing is not confined to sorrow. Cats prowl through her poems – sometimes comic, sometimes mysterious. Childhood imagination bursts out in ‘Molly the Menace and My Daddy Built a Rocket’. Everyday Kilkenny life – neighbours, fields, small jokes and big memories – finds its way into her lines with clarity and affection.
As Frank Fahy, her publisher, notes:
“As soon as Kathleen joined the Write-on group, I was aware she had an extraordinary talent. She has a knack of making people smile with her unusual ‘take’ on things, but she also treats serious topics with the dignity they deserve.”
A voice rooted in Kilkenny
Kathleen grew up in Kilkenny and has remained closely tied to its community and landscapes. Her poems carry that sense of place: the memory of walking to school, neighbours disputing cattle, rain on potato drills, and the determination of families weathering change.
Even when her themes turn universal – grief, illness, women’s silence, the absurdities of daily life – her voice remains unmistakably local. Readers recognise something of themselves in her humour, her turns of phrase, and her ability to find meaning in the ordinary.
She also gives credit to others who nurtured her creativity. Kathleen is an active member of the Involvement Centre and Recovery College Writing Group in Kilkenny, where facilitators Ger Cody and Mary Woods have supported many budding writers. “I’d like to thank Ger and Mary for all they do for writers in the area,” she says. “The encouragement of a group makes all the difference.”
From notebook to book
The path to publication was gradual. Poems first written for herself and her family began to reach wider audiences through community projects and weekly readings with Write-on, a group of writers now spanning Ireland and beyond via Zoom.
The Write-on Group has published over twenty books in the last five years, supporting writers who might otherwise never reach print. Kathleen’s book is among its proudest achievements.
“When we began assembling the collection, none of us – not even Kathleen – realised how powerful it would become,” says Frank Fahy. “Her poems may appear whimsical at first, but beneath the humour and charm there is deep emotional resonance and cultural memory. This is a book that invites rereading, and rewards it.”
A lasting legacy
Missing and Other Poems is dedicated to Kathleen’s husband Donnie, their children Sinéad, Deirdre, Ruairí, and Aoife, and in loving memory of their son Ruairí, who died at the age of twelve. That personal note of loss and survival echoes through the whole collection, making the book both intimate and universal.
It is already attracting attention beyond Kilkenny. Readers of all ages have praised its mixture of accessibility and depth, its blend of humour and history, and its ability to say so much in so few words.
How to get the book
The book is available in Kindle (€6), paperback (€15), and hardback (€20) editions on Amazon. All proceeds go directly to supporting the Write-on Group and its mission of encouraging new writing.
Anyone interested in joining the group, or in hearing more about its projects, can email writeon.galway@gmail.com or visit www.write-on.ie.
Kathleen’s achievement stands as a reminder that creativity knows no age limit, and that voices once private can find their way into the world. Her poems carry Kilkenny stories into wider circles – stories of memory, humour, endurance, and hope.
About the publisher
Frank Fahy is a retired Publisher and NUJ member. He worked for almost thirty years with The Educational Company of Ireland and now runs the Write-on Group, which supports and publishes new writing from Ireland and abroad.
L- R: Kathy Norris ( R.I.P) , Niamh Holohan, Pat Griffin, Cathal McFarlane, Mary Woods, Sé Nicholson, Tom Renehan, John Rice, Ger Cody and Richard Conway
A question without an answer
by Kathleen Phelan
My father is looking out at me
From this sepia photograph.
His right hand resting
On the barley twist table.
His fedora hat at an angle.
For a moment our eyes lock.
We are summing each other up.
And I imagine how it would feel
to stand beside this stranger.
To feel his arm
around my waist.
while we wait
for the camera to flash.
He would say cheese.
And we would giggle.
He would struggle to hold
back tears,
seeing me all grown up.
Me in my Jackie O red suit
and pillbox hat.
So unlike the toddler
he had kissed goodbye
for the last time,
Before heading to work.
His stubble chin skimming my face.
Making me squeal with delight.
By lunchtime he was gone.
The tightness in his chest
much stronger than his
will to live.
Much stronger than his love
for my mother and all of us.
His last words:
“What will happen
to my wife and children?”
Was a question
nobody could answer.
Treason
By Kathleen Phelan
I sit beneath the canopy
of an ancient oak, below
the blood red stripe
that marks it for felling.
I have witnessed it all before,
heard the gut wrenching sound
of the chainsaw cutting a wedge.
Saw the gaping
wooden mouth.
Like it was screaming.
Then a loud crunching noise
as it hit the ground.
The path is almost cleared.
A wind farm will take root like
a futuristic jungle.
But the earth will remember.
