Barefoot Irish Lad
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A barefoot lad, in blue overalls, laying in a meadow
of green growing clover appearing to slumber,
His green Irish hat lies over his face under
the shadow of a willow.
A pot of fantasy Irish gold sits by his shoulder.
In whisper snore, and relationship
with nature’s warmth fellowship
And wondering thoughts of plunder
A poetic vision in the figure of an Irish rover,
A high boisterous fun with mischief of sin
feeling the senses of lilt rhythm within,
music, song, scenery, and good weather
He steals a look at the stars carrying
in the day and a benediction it finds.
The harmony of being together, a meeting of the minds,
an instinct that is stronger than his upbringing.
What came, that which is unseen on our island home before
For a flavor of a rainbow and a mystical Leprechaun and blame
the thrill to the eyes. And plunder his gold and hope he won't reclaim
Triumph on the lore of his essence of identity and not blarney Irish folklore
8/27/2016
Five Rhyming Stanza's - 5 only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
abba rhyme scheme
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
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