top of page

Daffodils

A Poem by Aisling John

No-one mystifies my country
Or mourns for my butchered tongue
My father’s language trips inside my mouth
And I am made a foreigner in his lands
Green pastures, rolling valleys and hills
We place them on postcards
And forget the songs we’re supposed to sing
A culture built on echoes
A haunting so long it’s faded
We’ve forgotten our nature
To fight and rise and scream like barbarians
Guerrilla war that thorned nations
Now we tuck ourselves into bed, and say it’s too late
We rely on their financial contribution

About Aisling

BoundBy Marketing and editor

Hi, I’m Aisling and I’m part of the editing and social media team here at Bound By! Like most of the team I studied creative writing at university, but I also studied politics for a year and maybe that’s the reason a lot my poetry has a definite political edge. At first poetry felt like a very unfamiliar way of writing, but I quickly fell in love with its short, sharp nature. I see poetry as kind of like written photography, capturing a quick snapshot of a moment or feeling, and completely immersing you in it. My own poetry reflects this, often relying on memory and visual stimuli to begin the writing process. Some common themes that I’ve been writing about recently include: the displacement of the Celtic identity; the place of religious belief in the modern world; and the rise of misogynistic ideologies in the younger generation. Since graduating I spent the summer travelling Eastern Europe (highlights including Vienna and Budapest!) and I’m now working with Cork Arts Theatre on their annual 10x10 minute play event.

  • Instagram
df8bc6fa-792c-41fa-aef8-b3570e793a61[3539].jpeg.copy.jpeg
© 2024 by BoundBy Editors. Powered and secured by Wix
bottom of page