The Fisherman

Poem By Alan Dunne

The falling sun spreads light upon
These hands that time has torn
Deepened lines, from nets entwined,
Have left the skin all worn.

Beneath the cap that warms in the early dawn
Escapes that salt-spoiled hair,
An Mhaighdean Mhara is quietly sung
In the open western air.

Two saved mackerel in a tartan satchel
A reward that ends the day
While shades of tomorrow from today will be borrowed
He smiles in the light of May.

An Mhaighdean Mhara - The Mermaid (Irish)

Comments about The Fisherman

This is excellent. So beautiful.

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Other poems of DUNNE

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He slipped away in secrecy:
no tears fell
over the shaded grave,
tucked away in a corner


She breezes through the crowd:
The old woman at the barrier
squeezes the soft hands
of her grandchildren, holding on