Tag Archives: dubliner

23 February 2017

Swell of the Liffey go,
and away my soul within its waves go.
Tobacco sour turns into tobacco nice
Wave my hair down days
later and I smell it still as I go.
Tobacco smell and North Beach
sand do not leave easily,
and nor would I grant them easy leave to go.

To Dublin City where I met my one,
To Dublin North to consecrate
the meeting of joined words.

Liffey swell
and Nicotine sing.
Shared drinks unite
locked in with trad band and we.

His greyed hair.
Mine blue eyes.
Alone he sits,
with thoughts within.
Dublin man, Dublin true.
Chasing current politics from
de Valera and Collins,
fifty year on
since tainted treaty.

Centrist right governments, Dublin
man says. To my left he sits and
thinks of changed governments.
He’ll vote now Sinn Fein but Adams,
he says, has got to go.

Fifty years of Liffey swells,
of broken hearts and thrown rings in its
beds does it keep.
Fifty years of same Fáill and Gael.
But Dublin stays and so it goes,
with my troubled Dublin man and I
go.

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A Lover Denied

Who would wear a ring so tainted?
I threw it in the Liffey green
And as they say, what’s done is done.
And at least am I free of the reverie.

Who would wear a token so tainted
Who would wear something so tainted now?
I dropped it in the Liffey green and didn’t stay to see it sink.

The token denied by a lover fair
Or who was fair and kind until he
denied my pride of farewell nice.

What did you expect me to do
but only resolve to say good to
a bad bye?

I had given you my token
but yet twice you at once denied
my young love and
old pride.

Now who makes the fool? The one that
apologised or the one who
Threw a ring in calm Liffey green?

Once we departed and once I
called you back. Once I offered
you my ring of luck and love.
And twice you denied and made
my unluck unloved.

And now you ask forgiveness
and treaty me peace. But it
was not me that tainted such a token
But it was me who threw it away.

Who would wear a ring so tainted?
I threw it in the Liffey green
And as they say, what’s done is done.
And now free am I from this reverie.

Centenary Celebration Kiss (WIP)

One hour flight,
to mark one hundred years ago.
I’m thinking of Love By Numbers
And how is it – how many – that had to die –
for me to have been when we first
threw eyes?

Is it the fifteen men who died
by fire at the jail to hill?
Is it the ‘thirteen strike
which killed more still, just
three years prior –
or does it go back,
yes it always go back.

To the days of Plight,
to the days of ol’
where more children died,
where more women toiled.

Is it the forty young-ones
who died by elders’ oversight
during that Easter time?

Have I Connolly to thank,
Have I Parnell to love?
Have I the famine to hug.

How many deaths did it take me
to get to you this Easter time?
Ireland was fighting to be recognised,
while I only had to find your eyes.

To the days of Plight,
to the days of ol’
where more children died,
where more women toiled.

Who would have thought that one hundred
years later, the fate of an island
would have brought us together?

When Ireland was fighting for his
freedom,
I was only wanting to join with you.

How many were born for me to get this
way with you? How many saw their lives fulfilled
with outweighed joy, how many sat upon free Irish
soil?

Centenary, celebrate,
not with guns,
but with a drenched guinness kiss.