Kitchen Hymns

by Pádraig Ó Tuama

Written by the engaging host of the popular show, Poetry Unbound, the poems of Kitchen Hymns are finely honed melodies of survival—shaped with both humor and anger, force and conviction.


Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Kitchen Hymns opens with a “Do You Believe in God?” — but the bee, “gone extinct,” cannot answer, and the grass calls believe “a poor verb.” This collection trades belief for language, and philosophy is grounded in form and narrative. Kitchen Hymns is structured like a ghost mass, where even if God is a “favorite emptiness,” longing still has things to Jesus and Persephone meet at Hell’s exit and discuss survival; someone believes more in birds than belief; hares carry messages from the overworld to the underworld. A study in lyric address, Kitchen Hymns speaks to a shifting “you”: an unknown you; the strange you; a lover, a hated other; the you of erotic desire; the you of creation and destruction. Large themes are informed by and contained in a poetics of observation, humor, trauma, dialogics, lament, rage and praise. Delivered in finely honed melodies, shaped with force and conviction, Kitchen Hymns “reckon[s] with the empty,” and becomes “busy with a body / not a question.”

Genres: Poetry, Queer, LGBT, Irish Literature

104 pages, Paperback

First published January 28, 2025

About the author

Pádraig Ó Tuama’s poetry and prose centre around themes of language, power, conflict and religion. His work has won acclaim in circles of poetry, politics, psychotherapy and conflict analysis. His formal qualifications (PhD, MTh and BA) cover creative writing, literary criticism and theology. Alongside this, he pursued vocational training in conflict analysis, specialising in groupwork.

His published work is in the fields of poetry, anthology, essay, memoir, theology and conflict. A new volume of poetry — Kitchen Hymns — is forthcoming from CHEERIO in mid 2024.

Profiled in The New Yorker, Pádraig’s poems have been featured in Poetry Ireland Review, Academy of American Poets, Harvard Review, New England Review, Raidió Teilifís Éireann’s Poem of the Week, and the Kenyon Review.

Pádraig has told stories at The Moth, has been featured on NPR’s All Things Considered, has presented programmes on poetry and language for BBC Radio 4; and has extended interviews with On Being, with Kim Hill on Radio NZ, and Soul Search on Radio National (Australia). In addition, he has interviewed poets and public figures including former President of Ireland Mary McAleese, Hanif Abdurraqib, The Edge, Sarah Perry, Joy Harjo, Billy Collins and Martin Hayes.

Reviews

[Nic · Rating 5 out of 5]

What beautiful writings, as always. This collection plays with structure and language and myths in such intriguing ways. I was constantly surprised and delighted- so glad I own this so I can read it again and again.

[Kyle Seibel · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don’t read a ton of poetry but when I do, I often feel like a phony, like I don’t really understand it, and it’s not for me. Reading Kitchen Hymns, I had the opposite of that reaction in every regard. The music, the warmth, the raw vulnerability, the unflinching darkness—it all underpins a depth of thought and erudition that makes this collection feel novelistic, narratively complete.

[Julie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kitchen Hymns considers a life grounded in faith that evolves into the absence of belief. It carries on conversations with God and imagines a dialogue between Jesus and Persephone at the threshold of Hades. It's playful—the prose poem “PB2G” (Praise Be to God) as a letter written by a fan is an ironical delight. It's mournful—the elegiac "Kitchen Hymn" is full of tender grief.

I wasn't surprised to learn that Kitchen Hymns was written as part of Ó Tuama's PhD, for it feels carefully and precisely crafted, with a variety of poetic styles and steeped in theme. It's so deeply personal that although beautiful, elegant, and expressive, there's a vernacular I felt excluded from. Or perhaps I'm projecting, being on a very different trajectory in exploring and reconnecting to my faith instead of pulling away from it.

In any event, this is a gorgeous collection that poignantly depicts a man in this postmodern world questioning faith, sexuality, and country while longing to be more closely integrated to each to close his circles of doubt.

[Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Christ–Persephone cycle is class.

[Amy Imogene Reads · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s always so daunting, writing a review for a poetry collection. No matter how I do it, it feels like a poor copy of the original and also an unfairly objective reflection on a very personal medium.

This collection was piercing, at points. It was also filled with ethereal light, at others.

A really fantastic work. Take the moment and try it, if you are into poetry at all.

[Sarah · Rating 3 out of 5]

More misses than hits for me but still a few faves -

The Long Table
There is Time for Time
The Book of Revelation

[Mael Brigde · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a revelation. Sometimes a sorrow, sometimes a wonder, sometimes a delight. Often, books of poetry are best (for me, at least) dipped into, one or two poems at a time, over a long period. Kitchen Hymns benefits from a much quicker reading, as one poem feeds into the next like a series of connected pools. Beautifully done.

[Reza Shirazi · Rating 4 out of 5]

You can hear the unmistakable lilt and rhythm of his voice in these poems.

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pádraig Ó Tuama is the host of Poetry Unbound, part of the On Being Project, which also includes the interview podcast On Being with Krista Tippett, which is how I came to learn about Pádraig. Poetry Unbound—and the return of poetry generally—came along at a pivotal time, and though it might be an exaggeration, it’s safe to say that, at the time, it very much felt like poetry saved my life. Along with long hikes in the prairie and my own writing, Poetry Unbound and the poets it introduced me to were vital in shepherding me through. So when Pádraig announced via Substack that he had a new book of poetry coming out, I promptly added it to my list. When it was released, I made an interlibrary loan request, but it was denied: The book was too new to be requested. However, much to my surprise, the library decided to purchase and add it to their collection.

Like well-constructed albums, I understand that a poetry collection is not simply a gathering up of the last batch of poems a poet has written. No, it is more than that. But like a well-constructed album whose songs don’t only work in the broader context, it is typically comprised of poems that also stand alone on their own—many of which were previously published in various literary journals. Kitchen Hymns is not that kind of collection. This is a wholly conceptual work, and one, I’ll admit, despite two readings, I don’t think I truly get. Though I’ve never read it, I recently acquired a hardcover copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses for cheap at the library’s annual book sale. I have, since college, both desired and feared to read it due to its reputation as impenetrable and requiring a level of literary knowledge I, no doubt, lack. Kitchen Hymns feels very much like that. It came as no surprise, then, to learn that this book began as the creative component for a Ph.D. Pádraig was working on at the University of Glasgow. That is, it oozes with experimentation and challenge and difficulty for their own sakes. Not, as they say on Seinfeld, there’s anything wrong with that. It’s only that your mileage might vary.

Within, Pádraig explores, most notably, religion or faith or god or God, and myth, and belief, and the many things embodied by such vast themes, perhaps especially for a gay man raised Catholic in very Catholic Ireland. Given that I read the book twice in an attempt to better understand it, which I think served its purpose, it came at the expense of enjoying the book less. There are, to be certain, moments of delight and illumination and devastation, and, on the first reading at least, Kitchen Hymns grew on me as it progressed. But like a concept album whose reach exceeds its grasp (and I’m thinking of the many Kinks albums that suffered this fate), I found the moving moments too few and too diffuse and too muted, suffocated, perhaps, under the weight of the very concept meant to give them wings.

[Francesca Bertani · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reminded me of falling in love with my best friend in an all girls catholic school. A bittersweet feeling of longing wrapped in a blanket of confusion. Confusion for life, for love, for god. She always grounded me.
I felt our smile across the church pews again for the first time while reading this. Was it one sided? Maybe. Nothing ever came of it, but she remains a piece of my heart.
It’s unexplainable, the feeling I received from this book. It’s perfect.

[Es Everson · Rating 4 out of 5]

There's a lot to uncover in this collection and I probably should have sat with some of the poems longer...
There's a lot of intrigue just in the way the collection is structured with poems of desire embedded in these epistemological life stories. Will be returning to these and relistening to the OnBeing episode interviewing Ó Tuama.

[Lily Poppen · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really liked this! Very meditative and the poem "Jesus and Persephone Meet after Many Years" was really interesting. I love his tone even in its deceiving simplicity, especially in the dialogue that's super pared back but holds volumes.

[ford sachsenmaier · Rating 4 out of 5]

remarkable. this whole collection had a heft and sweep to it, a directional continuity that allowed each poem to become a kind of scaffolding off of which every other poem could build itself. there is such a bluntness and rawness here, and a beauty in that.

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Persephone/Jesus section was the draw for me, and it was fantastic, but I was surprised by how much I enjoyed some of the more experimental forms throughout the book. The theme of the dead surviving the living was a fascinating throughline, and one I'd love to see more discussion about.

[Luke Lindon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Can’t say I understand it. But it was beautiful to read. I’ll take several trips thru

[Samara · Rating 5 out of 5]

The first and second Kitchen Hymns set really stuck out to me, particularly In the Name of the Bee, Eat This Bread, and Charade. most of the In A Garden By A Gate went over my head i think, but as a creative concept very cool. o’tuama’s intentionality and labor comes through beautifully. great execution of a great poetic project.

[Ryan O'Malley · Rating 5 out of 5]

“There is no such thing as the past.
Just stories of the past told today.

And anyway, nobody knows where the past begins
in the beginning it was all a dream, not a story.”

[Zoe Ford · Rating 5 out of 5]

So much joy

[Kim Post · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is heart aching in the best way. I’ve read all of Padraig’s work over the years and this is a tender exploration of his themes. Feed the Beast might actually be my recent favourite, but now I just wish I could conjure Padraig to California and drink a cup of tea or a pint of Guinness. Miss you friend.

[BAM · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a beautiful collection from a superb poet and thinker.

A few of my favorites:


————————————-

Jesus and Persephone Meet after Many Years

You look so much better, she said.
Older. Changed
The scars are different too.
Thanks, he said.
Nothing would drag me back.
I just came up from Hades yesterday, she said.
I figured you were coming, he said, • I waited for you all winter.
Then I saw buds on that old tree.
You look like you.
What do you do? she asked.
This and that, he said. But mostly I walk the mountains, following the tracks that animals make when they escape the hunt.
Hey, I always meant to ask you-is there more than just one way?


———————-

The Second Coming

there will be no fanfare no trumpet no end of days
just the light on the leaves of that tree you love to look at
no songs to sing no one to beg
no resolutions no explanations no solutions
no insight into time
no recrimination and no punishment
no guilt no reprimand no judgment seat no mercy
just nothing darlings
nothing

————————

(untitled/missæ]

I bless myself in the name of the deer and ox, the heron and the hare, evangelists of land and wood and air. The fox as well, that red predator of chickens, prey of cars.
And the salmon and the trout sleeping in the reeds.
When the wren wakes, I'll ask her blessing, and if she comes out she'll bring it. The squirrel buries when she thinks no one else can see. I bless myself in her secrecy.
There's a fieldmouse I've seen
scampering at dusk, picking up the seeds dropped by the finches and the tits
throughout the day.
Some nest of frenzy waits her kindness and her pluck
I go in the name of all of them,
their chaos and their industry,
their replacements, their population, their forgettable ways, their untame natures,
their ignorance of why, or how,
or who.

————————

Mother Brendan's Opening Words at Ash Wednesday Mass

Darlings, look around.
Next to you's the nurse, the cleaner, the doctor, the child-minder, the waiting, the hoping, the barely surviving, the can't-get-out-of-bed-can't-sleep-can't-cope.
There's the teacher out of work, the disaffected priest, the taxi driver, the shopkeeper, broke shareholder, tourists, retirees, waitresses, bankers, administrators, the tired and committed, the excited and the stressed
I know you expect me to bless you in the mysteries of God, but I prefer the strangeness of each other, darlings.
Look around.
In the name of whatever
reason brings you here. In the name of anything that works. In the name of nothing.

Are you burning yet? You will be.
Take this cup and drown your sorrows.
Take this bread and butter it. Lick it.
Taste the salt. Nothing made you come here.
Nothing stops you going.


————————-


Do You Believe in God?

I don't believe in God, I said, and she said, Oh?
Somehow I thought you'd managed to keep that going even though I haven't. She asked if I'd told others.
Yes, I said, I have. I mean, it's not like I'm saying I Know About What Is. It's just that the burden of belief isn't on me anymore. God, it feels much freer.
I believe I'm in the room next to belief. I hear the sounds of prayers coming through the walls. I like the smell of incense. And the sound of fabric rustling fabric
as the people stand or kneel. Sometimes I can tell the text by the intonation of the reader. I mutter the responses underneath my breath. Lift up your hearts.
And do you? she asked, Lift up your heart?
Yes, I said, I do, but I don't know to who.
Whom, she said. Let's get started on the soup.

[Kara Hisatake · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love Ó Tuama and this collection of poems should be considered his reflection on prayer and religion (Irish Catholic background), and an imagined meeting between Jesus and Persephone. Ó Tuama goes deep here, because he equates religion with a "nothing" and that "nothing" is a pretty sacred experience that he equates, in many ways, with prayer and God. See below.

Again, I'm not an expert poet reader so I'm not sure if I was interpreting the poems the way they meant to go out into the world, but I enjoyed reading through them and experiencing Ó Tuama's language.

"Mother Brendan's Opening Words at Ash Wednesday Mass" (6), excerpts
Darlings, look around.
Next to you's the nurse, the cleaner, the doctor, the child-
minder, the waiting, the hoping, the barely surviving . . .

I know you expect me to bless you in the mysteries of God,
but I prefer the strangeness of each other, darlings.
Look around.

In the name of whatever
reason brings you here. In the name of anything
that works. In the name of nothing.

Are you burning yet? You will be.
Take this cup and drown your sorrows.
Take this bread and butter it. Lick it.
Taste the salt. Nothing made you come here.
Nothing stops you going.


"Do You Believe in God?" (24), the whole poem
I turn to you,
not because I trust you,
or believe in you,
but because I need a direction for my need. You--
the space between me and death; you--
the hum at the heart of an atom; you--
nothing; you--my favorite emptiness; you--
what I turned away from and will turn to; you--
my ache made manifest in address; you,
silent you, what my friends saw as they died; you
contain what's not containable; you--
shape of my desire--

[John Thomas Allen 2nd · Rating 5 out of 5]

Padraig O Tuana is a deeply sincere poet. The poems in this collection oscillate between his struggle with the yearning for God juxtaposed with the harsher realities of family life. Many of the titles are taken from the proverbs and sayings of Christ in the Gospels.

Who Do You Say That I Am?

Who do you say that I am? he asked.

You are such a
narcissist she said.

Yes, she said. Like you
he believed in things worth dying for,
and died alone. Echo was left empty.
Deaths ike that
are meaningless. Sacrifice is not salvation.
Beauty fades, purpose too.
And certitude.

I believe you, he said.

I don't think you do, she said.

Tuama is practical and speculative, and the poems chronicle his romantic life as well. Still no matter
how he advocates for a-materialist-wishing-for-a-religio-poetae, his best poem is about his inability to dismiss this.

Do You Believe In God?

"Though I've lost God, God is
the only language that I speak.
I used to describe this loss.

I thought he appeared and disappeared.
Now God's nowhere, though this loss
is like memory carried in a gust
of air, a scent. I make myself a
describe what I have lost

with attention to the yearning
I still have. But I fear
God became a word

to bear all I should not bear.
God bore it well. No
containing now. An empty shell.

I have a need, or grief,
I have lost God. Gpd
is the only language that I speak."

(Look for the poem where his daughter won't listen to his advice because she Googled the subject matter first.)

[Mary Grace · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was wonderful in both surprising and unsurprising ways. I would definitely recommend ó tuama‘s poetry for anyone wishing to feel understood in the unique type of grief that comes from a deconstruction of religion. He also has a deep love both for animals, nature, the physicality of existence and sacramental ritual which are all ever present in his symbolism. There is a certain safe religious nostalgia for the sacraments that I found much solace in. Poems like, Mother Brendan‘s opening words at Ash Wednesday Mass, confession, the last supper and Rite of baptism all embody the comfort and reverence of sacraments in everyday experiences. Poetry like this I enjoy deeply because it gives a voice to the sensations of religious experience in a manner unconcerned with belief itself. It is evidence to me of the human need for a form of prayer, whatever it is you believe in. Ó tuama gave a voice to the reconciliation of spiritual reverence with agnostic ambivalence to belief. A relationship I have not often encountered in writings. He does it masterfully with such lines, „I have lost God. God is the only language I speak.“ and yet he describes the beauty to be found in continuing to worship that which he calls nothing. Certain actions and/or desires need no explanation. They need only to be felt. This poetry collection demonstrates this concept in the context of religious ritual and existential tensions rather beautifully.

[Sue · Rating 5 out of 5]

I thought Padraig was this cute, religious, family man who wrote reverent poems ala Wendell Berry with an Irish twist. I saw him on Zoom, and I saw him at AWP. He’s cute. In a book titled “Kitchen Hymns,” I expected, well, poems about things that happen in kitchens. Nope. Not a lot of kitchen action here. These poems are a surprise. Not reverent. Some are quite twisted. Some I just don’t understand. But there is a genius here. I love the way O’Tuama uses the same title over and over, asking, for example, “Do you Believe in God?” forcing the poet and the reader to keep digging for a fresh response. He answers with a night on a beach staring at a statue of the Virgin Mary, a memory of a boyhood in church, a fishing trip with his dad, the way it felt to tongue the gap where a lost tooth used to be, and conversations between an unidentified woman and man. He offers prose poems, white paragraphs across the bottom of all-black pages, regular lined poems, and poems of words scattered across the page with the reader left to make sense of them. Famous quotes from scripture and literature introduce the various sections. It’s not what I expected, but this is a fascinating collection, worth taking time to study and savor.

[Justin Wiggins · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was an incredible honor to recently meet Irish poet and theologian Pádraig Ó Tuama at a book signing at a Waterstones in Glasgow, Scotland. Pádraig kindly signed his new book of poetry for me, and it was great to get to talk with him for a bit. He was very friendly, read a few poems from the book, and gave a moving talk on the importance of poetry and art in the context of its exploration of the complexity of being human.

Kitchen Hymns is a fascinating and moving book of poetry that poses questions about sex, pain, religion, suffering, unbelief, belief, doubt, faith, a deep yearning for the transcendent, joy, and love. This is at least what I got from the book. The poems in it are quite enigmatic, and every reader will have a different subjective response. I highly recommend this book.

[Emily Magnus · Rating 4 out of 5]

Last poetry read of the year! This mans words are so powerful. And yet there were certain poems that I needed a decoding too.

POTB:

“I was no fool, but I wanted to love the world. Of course I knew dragonflies are as brutal as they are beautiful, and Id heard how baboons plan revenge with intelligence and cruelty. I've seen what tornadoes do, and emperors too. I know what it's like to suffocate, sweat blood, betray and be betrayed. I've hummed the melodies of warpipes, I've been let down. But I wanted to believe it was possible to love the terrible world, love being alive, know that threat isn't the only pursuit, that nighumares aren't inevitable, and that courage is available especially in the worst moment. I liked the unexpected. Until it happened. I wanted to belicve something mattered.”

[Dyson Kona · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very very interesting. One of the most captivating book in terms of craftsmanship and arrangement that I had ever read. Starts from one speaker finding identification in life’s minute details, seeing where they fit in among godly pretenses and religious community, how god manifests through song and sex, but slowly moves beyond to be a complete exploration of intimate relationships between people and what moves through them. No more first person speaker, tons of fascinating he said she said, then black pages of prose blocks with slash line breaks in them #MODERNPOETRY . Negative space? Very interesting. Will be rereading. Eroticism under godly pretenses and what a song can carry. I think that is this book

[Anna Adami]

On first read, the impression I’m left with is one of nihilism. In many of these poems, “God” as being, institution, mystery, language, etc is pitted against “nothing” - a reality of emptiness or meaninglessness or simply absence. The poems seem to chronicle an evolving of belief into something murkier, something harder to define, something kin to loss of faith, but borderline. There are carnal explorations of rage, longing, loneliness, ritual, and prayer.

First impressions are sometimes right, but often wrong. I look forward to reading this again and seeing what new impressions come forth. I am amazed at O Tuama’s skill with language.

[Cavak · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn't think a genre of cozy poetry existed, but there you go. It's bittersweet, heartwarming, and cozy. Yes, there are lines with surprising harshness to them. But I just felt like they were preadolescent vents. Where you know that the speaker will undoubtedly come back to the dinner table and there will be this silent admission of sorts, an apology not spoken, before life goes on in its wholesome encompassing way.

This is the first time I've read Ó Tuama's poetry. I've often heard his commentary from Poetry Unbound, so it's neat to see how he puts certain thoughts into his own words too.

[Robert Irish · Rating 5 out of 5]

This wonderful collection of poems has two brilliant sub-collections that captivated me in their own right. The first is the sequence of poems called "Do You Believe in God"--which are magnificent expressions of doubt, failure of faith, experience of God. And this is an idea that is maybe new to me: one can experience God even without faith in God. That seems to be part of the ideas Pádraig explores here.
The second is the sequence in which Jesus and Persephone have a series of conversations about the ordinary in a life of resurrection--Persephone is unimpressed with resurrection since Jesus just follows her out of the underworld. Genius, mundane, piquant, all at once.