the madrigal is a poetry publication that aspires to produce bodies of work that are transient, emotive, delicate, and familiar in their capacity to evoke emotion and elicit a response from their reader. based in dublin, we, the editors, feel a deep and abiding connection to the thematic beauty that is the expanse of irish poetry, and aim to establish a collective of work that shares in the homeliness, joy, transience, and sadness to which poetry at its most raw can convey. the madrigal is a space for exploration, introspection, warmth, and effervescence, both to first time poets, seasoned vets, and everyone else in between! our poetry will be nostalgic, accessible, and deeply intimate –– a distinct and recognized feeling of home, always.
begun in dublin by two history and politics students, the madrigal is the culmination of a mutual love and fascination with poetry and publication –– a natural move towards new adventures and perspectives on the literary process. we are so excited to cultivate this publication, and cannot wait to share it with you all!
we hope that the soft and salient space of this journal will reflect the beautiful, breathtaking literary talent which contributes to it, fostered and amalgamated under the title of the madrigal.
helen and tomás
MEET THE EDITORS
before poetry, helen's truest love will forever and always be warm, knitted things. armed with a fondness for jumpers and a talent for knitting teddy bears, helen (when not writing) enjoys hosting tea parties with her stuffed animals and instructing them on dinner party etiquette, all of whom are becoming as polite and well-mannered as can be! her work deals in themes of nostalgia, mythic inspiration, and the potential of the world around her –– for more, you can follow her on twitter at @rosemaryandwool, and see her recent publications in spellbinder, poetically mag, eucalyptus & rose, seedling poets, and the martello journal.
tomas clancy is more than a man or an idea, more an ancient rock formation. it is true that tomas realised poetry was the life for him having already spent so long as a lad wandering around looking longingly out windows and enjoying black polonecks before adopting the snazzy garment as a uniform for the exploration of angst. everything here is incredibly high brow satire and unbelievably literal at the same time, far from ground-breaking. one could only hope that an extensive catalogue of work will at least make for an interesting read at the eventual autopsy.