Phil Lynch has had poems published in a wide range of over forty print and online literary journals and anthologies, including:
The Stony Thursday Book; Skylight 47; The Honest Ulsterman; Live Encounters Poetry; Seawords; Flare; The Poetry’s Dead Anthology; The Storms Issue III; Days of Clear Light (a Festschrift in honour of Jessie Lendennie & 40 years of Salmon Poetry); The Music of what Happens (Anthology); Bangor Literary Journal; Circle Time (Anthology of Dalkey Writers Workshop); Drawn to the Light Press; The Lea-Green Down (anthology of new poems inspired by the poetry of Patrick Kavanagh); Even The Daybreak (35 years of Salmon Poetry); Not The Time To Be Silent (Collected Work); Vox Galvia; UCD Poetry in Lockdown: a Pandemic Archive; Revival Literary Journal; Lime Square Poets (online); Bray Arts Journal; Boyne Berries Series, Two Meter Review; OFI Press; The Poetry Bus; Headstuff.
His work has been featured on poetry and arts shows on national and local radio including on programmes such as the Arena Arts Show, The Poetry Programme, Sunday Miscellany and The Documentary on One on RTE Radio 1 and on the Rhyme & Reason show on Dublin South FM.
He has also had poems included in a number of CD compilations and musical adaptations of some of his poems have been recorded by the artist Blue Lilac (BlueLilacr) on the album New Arrival. https://open.spotify.com/album/2lJyxpsWsjfiCS6hXOVfTo
He has been a winner, runner-up, highly commended and shortlisted in various poetry competitions.
His latest poetry collection, Moving On, was published by Salmon Poetry in 2024.
https://www.salmonpoetry.com/details.php?ID=615&a=284
His previous collection, In a Changing Light, (Salmon Poetry), was published in 2016. https://salmonpoetry.com/details.php?ID=394&a=284
He is a regular performer at poetry and spoken word events and festivals in Ireland and he has also performed at events in Belgium, France, the UK and USA.
Phil is a coordinator/host of the Words by the Sea monthly open mic event in Dun Laoghaire (on the second Wednesday of the month in Walters bar) under the auspices of ArtNetdlr.
He was previously a member of the Bray Literary Festival Committee and a co-founder of LINGO, the first international spoken word festival in Ireland.
Social Media links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/philip.lynch.39/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/philrlynch1/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@phillynch2311
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/phil-lynch-718770102/
Changing Light
It was nearly dark
when he came in from the fields
tired from the toils of the day
ready to complain
about the Tilley lamp still unlit,
would he have to light it himself
he asked of no one in particular.
In the shadow of an empty space
beneath the stairs
I stood primed.
The men with the metal boots,
their belts heavy as a gunslinger’s,
had spent what seemed like years
digging holes to plant the creosote forest
that stretched across the countryside,
with giant spools of wire unfurled
along roads and lanes and fields.
I marvelled at how they scaled
the heights of those black poles
and worked at right angles to the ground
without falling,
stuntmen all.
In the countdown to dusk I waited
finger on the switch
as if to take its pulse
or like some general in the Kremlin
with his thumb on the red button
waiting for the order to push.
The pre-determined signal came
from my mother at the table
and with all the strength
in my bony digit
I flicked the magic switch.
Outside, the dusk turned instantly to dark.
Inside, the light would never be the same.
©Phil Lynch
Encounters
I might have met you once while on the road
but how was I to know you would be there?
No map to guide, no picture to compare,
so why would I have stopped or even slowed?
And yet if you had signalled me your code,
I would have shyly shuffled, unaware
that you and I could have so much to share;
I’d still to learn what nature had bestowed.
But later when we met I knew you well
although I least expected you to be
so blissful, yet so able to confound.
Instead of catching me when first I fell,
you put me in a boat that’s still at sea
in search of shores which never may be found.
©Phil Lynch
Smoke without Fire
The doctor and the dentist
greet the scientist
they drink a toast to olden days
in their glasses
reflections of their student years
“cheers”!
No cheering crowds hail the worker
as he makes his way
through narrow streets
to meet his learned friends;
they raise another glass,
another past embraced.
The conversation takes them back
to dingy bars and dodgy
all-night party places,
to great debates on questions
scarcely understood;
the more they learned
the more they seemed to lose
but no one kept a balance sheet.
They talk of when they plotted
for the glory days to come
how everything would be different
after the revolution
how it would be for real this time
there would be a call to arms
a conscription of words
an awakening.
The voices of rebels would be heard
over those of primates and presidents
the poets and the protest singers
would write the new anthems
everything would be different.
No one saw the future creep up
becoming part of the past
they meant to change.
Now, in their pursuing way,
it is those glorious days
which raise the cheers
when comrades gather
to commemorate.
©Phil Lynch