Biography of Mark Dillon
Born in Dublin.Raised on the curragh Camp, Co Kildare.
Lived in Kildare town most of my life and raised family there.Had a career in the army as had my Father and 3 of my brothers, I retired in 2002 and worked and traveled a bit then went back to college and studied audio/visual media and graduated in 2009 with an hons deg BOA A.V MEDIA. Was involved with local drama group for some time and have a great interest in theatre, hope to finish writing a play i started, its a work -in -progress.Currently doing some writing and other small ideas, and at the same time some driving to help pay the bills.'you gotta live, right'
Mark Dillon's Works:
Self published book of poetry.Observations & Reflections
Mark Dillon Poems
The Owl And The Fieldmouse
The owl ventured out from his barn perch to search the forest floor. To get some fresh air and exercise and some fresh food for to score.
All across the twilight haze A million stars twinkle and brightly blaze. As the traveller on his moonlit quest makes his way along the mountain crest.
The Love Mine
I went into the love mine searching for some gold. Not the type that fools find thats readily bought and sold,
A Silent Wish
While driving people to and fro' as through the hustle and bustle of the season they go, Preparing for that special day,
Please, Just Listen To Me.
All the lessons I've learned and tried to pass on. The knowledge I've accumulated to make me strong.
Silently the winter nights creep in. The summer days have gone And the Autumns rich colours are starting to thin And the birds to the south have flown.
Sunday's here, I'll have a lie-in. No hurry or haste for my day to begin. Read a book, watch a film, Have breakfast in bed.
On Days Like This
By the riverside walkways I love to roam. Or sit on a bank watching leafs fall from home.
Three Tall Ships(2nd Edit)
Three tall ships sailed out from the bay on a bright golden sunny day. With the wind in their sails and the sun in their faces
The Drunken Fare
Sittin' by the telly. Waitin' for a fare. But on a Monday or Tuesday night. Getting one is rare.
To be in a place unfamiliar to you. Holds and restrictions from out of the blue. Where honour and strength are taken away. A place where the captors games come into play.
On Sillot Hill
On Sillot hill you'll find a wood there. Where as a young boy I played without care. We'd make spears, bows and arrows for fun and madly through the trees we'd run.
Would It Really Matter
Would it really matter if we didn't get up today. Didn't go to work and just stayed home to play. If we just stood idly by and left the work undone Cast away the chores and just went and had some fun.
Three Tall Ships
Three tall ships cast off and set sail. One made the trip, the other two failed. They sailed into a tempest and the wild winds did wail. The crew they were hardy, but they could not prevail
When Darkness Calls
There's an emptiness inside me.
It grows bigger every day.
It threatens to engulf me,
I feel lost, can't find my way.
Like a ship that's caught in a blinding mist,
storm damaged and beginning to list.
Looking for a beacon that isn't there,
nobody around for my troubles to share.