The Spire of Dublin Town

It’s near-impossible to get lost
In the city with the Spire
Sitting at its centre,
Nothing else higher

Than the phallic tower of Dublin,
An elephantine waste
Of sparkling metal that serves
As a convenient meeting place

For tourists and for locals
And anyone else around,
Because no matter where you are,
Nearly, the Spire can be found,

Erect and standing tall
Over O’Connell Street,
The (great?) tower of Dublin
Where the way-wanderers meet.


About Paul Carroll

Paul Carroll is a writer, born, raised and still living in Dublin. By day he's a student and bookseller, by night he writes fiction and uses social media.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s