Dingle by word.


Dingle By Word
Darren Ryan.

Catch the Wren bird, Salt the ling, carve your tongue on gaeilge

Raise the flag proudly from it slumber

Bang the drum and call in the trawlers with mercy

The naombog glides through the Atlantic currents
Like Bealtaine glides through the senses

the bottlenose dolphin truly knows
That’s even solitary hearts can thrive on these shores

The bin bawn turn throws sod astray
This is the town of the family man

Where the melodeon paints memories
And your fathers name is worn like a crown

Come along now with the Hollywood lense
Or the notions that you may tame this place

Each of us a teardrop in the eye of time
awake in the moment but wiped away without strain

My mothering blanket, my source of life
I bathe in your inlets to cleanse me of modern technologies

Oh lamb of God I pray with mince,
I look to the heavens over Mt Brandon, not for god nor Brendan but for guidance

In a cocooned biosphere where dreams never fade, and potential is free to every being

Where those who pass always live
In each song or stoke of the fiddle string

When I dissolve I will form such bonds
Become a part but not it’s sum

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