We are delighted to share the winners of the Darby Ryan International Poetry Competition 2025. Here are the six winning entries in order:
- The Weave of Home by Fidelma Nugent
- The Undertaker by Julie Ryan
- The Garda and the Car by Sylvia Greene
- The Bansha Fair by Michael Morrissey
- Revolution (Lite) by Aidan Michael Casey
- The Destruction of the Langers by Patrick Ryan
Below, you can read the six finalists’ poems, beginning with the first-place poem The Weave of Home by Fidelma Nugent.
The Weave of Home by Fidelma Nugent
In Tipperary Town, the bells still chime,
Their echoes ringing by the old Clock Tower;
The Kickham Band plays in perfect time,
Filling the air with music’s power.
In Bansha’s fields, the hedges grow,
The Galtees stand, their shadows long;
Where neighbours meet and friendships show,
The hum of life is a sacred song.
At St. Pecaun’s well, the waters flow,
Soft whispers rise from days of old;
The saint’s own touch still seems to show,
In every prayer, in every fold.
By Ballydrehid’s clear stream so wide,
The ball alley once rang with joy and cheer,
Where young and old in games would collide,
And laughter echoed through the year.
In Cahir, where the river winds,
The castle’s walls stand proud and tall;
Where salmon leap and bridge defines,
A story carved in stone for all.
We are built from extended hands,
A lift when roads grow dark and steep,
A kindness passed through all the lands,
The kettle boiled, the promise deep.
In meadows wide on a summer’s day,
We worked beneath the sky so clear;
With neighbours’ hands we brought in the hay,
And flasks of tea were always near.
Community’s not just where we stand,
But how we help, and give, and share;
At gatherings, at wakes, on quiet land,
In every prayer and every care.
And when we go, as all must do,
Let the earth remember our name;
Let Tipperary’s heart stay true,
A weave of love, an eternal flame.
The Undertaker by Julie Ryan
A man that sees a thousand broken hearts,
Seeing worlds ripped and worn apart.
A man that holds your hand with care,
And understands life is so unfair.
A silent tear slips from my soul,
Where you lay now I will never be whole.
But somewhere in the madness ,sadness and grief.
I watch this man in disbelief.
A gentle heart and a steady hand,
There I watch you as you stand.
I see my boys hair gentle combed,
Wearing his Liverpool jersey proudly owned.
All these details all race in my mind,
And that this man, who is so gentle and kind.
I left my mind wonder to the day he had,
He must be broken, today is hard, today is sad.
He got you washed and got you dressed,
And gentle laid you in your bed of enteral rest.
He combed your hair and crossed your hands,
With a single tear for the life you should have had.
He brought our family in and explained the day,
Making sure to listen to what we need and say.
As the music played gentle and people shake our hands.
Remember this man and where he stands.
He is the soul that leads the way for grief,
He is the memory that you will always keep.
The strongest man with the biggest heart,
There he stands with you as your love one parts.
My soul, my heart, my life is broken,
But the kindness of this man a gentle token.
So if you ever meet Henry please nod and smile,
For he is a true gentleman honest and kind.
The Garda and the Car. An ode to ‘The Peeler and the Goat’ by Sylvia Greene
A Tipp. Town Garda went one day
On duty and observing O
He met a woman on the road
And asked her for some details O.
‘Where is it that you go today
In this, your car so dirty O?’
‘I’m off to Banshsa, sir, said she
So step aside and I will go.’
‘And what is there for you to see
In Bansha, in this motor O?
It is a place of pride and joy
Where cars they do have flowers so!
We have two churches, side by side
That welcomed different types, you know
But never those with dirty cars, or carts
Or poor attire – no!’
‘I know those churches very well
And one rests Darby Ryan O
He has an anchor on his grave
But nautical he wasn’t though
Despite that fact, his stone is fine
Restored by loving family O
And locals said, he’s anchored here
The Bansha sense of humour so.
His church that was, is often used
By groups that meet and mingle O
Community is at its best
In Darby’s home, in Bansha so.’
‘Then show respect the garda said
A dirty car can’t enter – no!’
‘I will, she said, along this road
A car wash will assist me O.
My car will shine, both clean and red
Like the one where flowers grow
So, with your kind permission sir
I must be on my way, you know.
The first-responders do meet there
In Derby’s church in Bansha O
So kindly guard, please have a heart
And don’t delay me, I must go.’
The Bansha Fair by Michael Morrissey
I watched in awe
On a crisp early morning
Through childish eyes
The birds chorus still sings in my soul
Scenes so wild
Anxious animals corralled in coop and pen
Cud was chewed and chewed again
Streets are spattered
Graced with art and pungent smells
Tooth-gaped Drovers
Wearing caps
Tired and hungry
Soup and baps
Outstretched Palms
Spital Hands were slapped
Deals were struck
Luck returned
In Grogan’s Bar hubbub did rise
With mighty song and laughter
Porter and whiskey it did flow
Heady farmers swayed
Home un-steady
Old notes and shillings rattle
Young drover ‘s mind the cattle
The joys, mysteries and energies of youth
Never to return.
Revolution (Lite) by Aidan Michael Casey
We want a revolution
But with the lights on!
A revolution, but a quiet one,
petrol in the pumps, cash in the ATMs.
We want to read about it
in the (Irish) Daily Star & the (Irish) Sun.
We want agitation
but verbal clashes! Wars of words
in 12-point Times New Roman.
We want no upsetting of applecarts,
just business as usual: homeless
on every corner, gurriers on the Dart.
We want Kneecap
to Stop Causing An Embarrasment.
We want no besmirching
of the Orange Ordure, riots,
criminal damage or unauthorised use
of protected terms like Genocide or Apartheid.
We want a revolution
with a minimum of disruption
& Sky news & Premier League soccer
in our broadband bundle.
In 1916, lads, they did one thing right—
had it on a Sunday!
The Destruction of the Langers by Patrick Ryan
The Tipps came to Croker courageous and bold
With their jerseys of blue and pure solid gold
Their hurleys were poised and ready to work
And meet head on any challenge from Cork.
Like the Suir in full flood leave nothing behind
Taking head, leg and ball or whatever they find
Send Cork back to their city down by the Lee
Will we join in their sorrow, no, never say we
For the Premier County came full of ambition
To win the McCarthy was always their mission
In took hurling of skill and a second half blast,
To stop Cork’s little plan, ah! they were aghast
There stood their team, with mouths open wide,
Gone was their boasting, their shouting and pride
And the results of their play lay there on the pitch
Being analysed to death by all those on the ditch
Nearby stood the victors in their splendid attire
Sweat still on their brows and their bellies on fire
The banners were waving their blue and gold joy
Delighting their followers and every girl and boy.
The supporters of Cork are now loud in their wail,
Their poor hearts are all broken, the result is a fail
And the might of Tipperary on that hallowed field
Destroyed their opponents with no option but yield.
Let’s drink to their health, on another Premier win
Our players and management are all gallant men
For six years we waited to bring Liam to his home
We’ll rejoice with him now and again in the Dome.
Thank you to all who entered this year’s competition and shared their poetry with us.