A walk on Patrick Street belies me,
Lettered on the cobbles find me,
Seated beaten try outs drink to findings,
Aligning themselves in silver linings.
A fiddler plays out in reels and in jigs,
Ceilidh’s and maybe’s, songs of Inisteig,
Well wearing sailors drink night til noon,
Mike Scott’s ringing The Whole of The Moon.
Fruit displayed in a laden out bench,
Highland diction flies away ward sent,
Dogs and cats stray through the bars,
They’re the visual apparence to the acoustic guitars.
Farewell’s is failtiú’s, cairde is croí,
Glassed bohemians write out their ennui,
From an old photograph of a sweetheart of old,
Pulling their scarves to hide from the cold.
Jazzed up and boozed up, frivolous and fun,
Walkers and talkers ring round the drum,
All in a Jazz bar, where Guinness flows,
Living a life few ever know.
The sun sets on Patrick’s Street,
And in this vicinity, two lovers meet,
As they waltz round their new founded love,
They’re praised and amazed by the glory above.
Songs of the stories, Éire of old,
These children of yesteryear stand bold,
And in this sweet saving, the sweetheart’s they stand,
From the beauty of lovers, they are woman and man.
I have rarely stood on a street of such life,
From person to person, their emotions are ripe,
Lightly, benignly, people carry their souls,
Age is of no matter to the young and the old.
Forebearance arrives to a poet of youth,
He finds himself through the sound of a flute,
And I ask myself where else would I be,
But on Cork’s fair street, there’s solemnity.
Eoghan Lyng is an Irish man, who has written from Cork, Madrid and Prague. Currently residing in Glasgow, Lyng continues to refine his work. Aided with the ability to write in English and Gaeilge, examples of his work have been published in Vada Magazine, From The LightHouse, An Gael-IrisLeabhar Idirnaisiúnta and his eponymous wordpress account.