Best Irish Poems
There was once an elf who learnt how to brew
a full-bodied beer and cook Irish stew.
He mixed them both together
with whisky for good measure.
When BANG went the pot a tantrum he threw!
-- --- --- - -- --- - - - - --
Contest: Luck of the Irish
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Placed 5th
© 15th March 2017
Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess
This mystical aura of golden radiant sunbeams so sublime
With a warm mead laying lovely below its enchanted neck,
Is breathless releasing gasps of white-hot-fire breaths now,
All spiritual within one and a thousand sighs, it whistles too.
Brightly your radiance shines through the deep blue oceans
Where rainbows are misted with shades inside a desire born,
With curtains falling—revealing a beauty spot held precious,
Whilst in your heart glows warmly a true love priceless pure.
A royal crown bestoweth upon thine mantel of soft ‘n purest silk,
Now spangled as dewdrops glisten brightest on mirrored slippers,
As a divine swan upon one wave began dancing on joyous ripples,
An old Irish jig played on in this moment dancing you and I, as two.
The Merry Old Leprechaun looked on with his wee-soft eye twinkle
As the Sun Goddess giveth her divine breath to this sacred harvest;
Now to beareth the sweetest of fruit with warmest rays of gentleness,
So all can shareth this grandest garden moment of holy eternal glory.
We all shall now, forever and ever, prosper in this heavenly abundance
Whilst we sheddeth a most wee-curious light into this eternal paradise,
As you and I, and the Merry Old Leprechaun shareth a passion so true,
We drinketh gladly the sweet ‘n stout Irish Nectar of the Sun Goddess!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (January 17, 2017)
(Quatrain)
Irish accents quake my female southland.
Males 'neath Newsboy Caps stimulate dreamland.
Irish yearns may want touch,
Did not seek to feel such.
Ireland trips could stimulate mate's backhand.
This was written a few years ago for St. Patty's Day and posted:
If your favorite color is green and of the Emerald Isles you dream,
you might be Irish..
If you believe in leprechauns and fairies and hidden treasures that lay buried,
you might be Irish..
If you like your lasses bawdy and tell jokes a little naughty,
you might be Irish..
If you can dance an Irish jig and at the pubs your whiskey swig,
you might be Irish.
If your mom cooked an Irish stew and you just happened to be Catholic too,
you might be Irish..
If your name is Fitz, Riley, or O'Keefe, your definitely Irish, good grief!!
If not then just for this one day, we'll say your Irish any way..
Happy St. Patty's Day!!
May your love for me
always be
as stormy as an Irish sea.
I want no gentle ride
I wish for no small swell,
I've been safely drifting for too long.
May my love for you
always be
as sure as the setting sun.
As steady as a spring rain
a balm to your scorched plain.
You bring the wild,
I'll bring the sweet.
You be my rose,
I'll be your thorn.
I will be the sweet smile
as you swig down what makes you burn.
My wild Irish heart - what could it do
that March when into my sweet girlhood blew
euphoria to make my heart careen?
Oh, heart as fresh as clover - kelly green -
when zephyr brought its scent of something new.
The breeze caressed me; all was made askew,
for what it had been carrying was you!
Beneath my tender breast there throbbed, unseen,
my wild Irish heart.
You bridled it and then you pierced it through.
Yet wilder than before and tough it grew.
For in your aftermath, I was to glean
the lessons that my youth had not foreseen -
and evermore would pulse in me - now blue -
my wild Irish heart!
Originally For Sandy Ivy's Go Green - what green means to you? (new or old poem)Poetry Contest and now for Linda's Get your GREEN on!!! (Get into the spirit and Go Green) Happy March17 (old/new poems)Poetry Contest
You'll not see determination
like it...
this spirit sailed across
seven seas...
even as a child I fondly
recall it...
I knew I was different...
for what I believe...
for instance rich kids
down the road for their
Christmas a trampoline
they received...
they refused me entry...
so I took to hills...
walked off all disharmony...
whilst up there I found a
bog in it a dead cow lodged...
this cow bloated like any
fair ground balloon could be...
so I climbed aboard her and
I bounced all day...
cost me nothing my soul
in tact...
...thinking back...lucky
the old cow didn't burst
or crack...
it's the universe you see
the higher power understands
watches over me...
I often think of that day...
the spirit of the poor...
is rich...
Where there is a will there
is a way.
anyhow those same kids
they got tired of jumpin
up and down...
so they came to our house
we teamed up played rugby
instead...
for I knew from an early age
as young as five it is not t'ings
that bring fulfillment...
it is other people and love that
bring us this full of life...that we
feel inside...
Tis the Irish in me...
this spirit I believe...
the spirit that sailed
seven seas
...the spirit from above
Tis the Irish in me...
THE IRISH INVENTED EVERYTHING
Ireland invented everything; I think it’s fair to say
From the automatic office door, to the LED display
We put the first man on the moon, conceived the mobile phone
Discovered Mars and Pluto, and of course, the twilight zone
Planes and trains and trucks and cars, were all invented here
We even had the concept, of putting twelve months in the year
We invented ships and submarines, and the humble coffee cup
Sure we even made Viagra, just to keep our peckers up
We invented drums and violins, then trumpets and guitars
But playing makes you thirsty, so we invented Irish bars
We developed all the medicine, on which the world depends
Then we gave you love and hatred, and the means to make amends
We discovered beer and cider, we discovered whiskey too
And we started brewing Guinness, which is very good for you
We gave you sweets and chocolate, and all that tasty stuff
And we invented soft pyjamas, plus that bellybutton fluff
We invented roads and pavements, and we introduced the bridge
The cooker and the washing machine, we even claim the fridge
We invented mirth and humour, and we taught the world to sing
Sure you gotta love the Irish ………….. We invented everything……….
Me and McGee, Both needed a job
But the Boss, only needed One man
So he gave us a test
To find who was best
It seemed like a very fair plan
We finished the quiz, we done in a wiz
As we handed them to the old Sod
Then we waited to see
Just who would it be,
The one going home with a job
Then he said right to me
It's as plain as could be
Although your tested the same
The job is all yours
You'll be running my stores
Then thanked McGee having came
So I asked the boss
Why'd you give him the toss
Since we both got the last question wrong
Then He proceeded to say
In a professional way
And explaining it didn’t take long
"Well, when, at the last question
You wrote "I don't know”
And I won’t say your friend is a cheater
But on the same question
McGee, went and wrote
A simple reply 'Me Neither"
There once was a crude Irish knave
Who hid deep within Fingal’s cave.
He felt it safe there to flee,
Thinking “naught could get to me”
Until swept away by a wave.
Don’t Get Me Irish Up
Me glasses were sitting a-top-a me head
the jam I was spreading was next to the bread
my knees were together but me spindly legs spread
I’m either half way in ---or out of the bed
I have to look down when brushing me teeth
and glue them in tight before chewing me meat
and as for the callous that grows wild on my feet
I find sanding them a sensual treat
Me fingers resemble cold, wintering trees
aging icicles hang from my elbows and knees
the slightest of movements puts a scent on the breeze
and to make matters worse I pee when I sneeze
Me back’s slightly bent, me forehead is wrinkled
when reading a menu, me eyes, yes – they’re crinkled
when I fall asleep they say “ the old boy’s Van Winkled”
and me stories they say are all “Blarney sprinkled”
Me slippers are worn, me legs freshly shorn
the skin of me cheeks soft as the day I was born
but when they break out the corned beef and stout
all of me parts start to dancing about
John G. Lawless
© 3/6/2017
To travel far
Along the road
To live so long
And not be told
That from the clay
Where hearts complete
There will be one
Your heart will meet
To tend your wounds
Let anxious cease
Wrap with arms
Of total peace
To walk those miles
And not be found
The truth revealed now
To astound
A soul that fits
Like hand in glove
Reciprocation
No striving love
So from the earth
We came and yet
Had travelled far
Before we met
I cannot lose
What has been found
Before returning
Home to ground
Anam cara
You must be
So hold my hand
Eternally
The Irish bank was ripe and ready
For a hood whose hand was steady
And had a gun, not 'fraid to use it
Bent on living life or lose it
Just out side the door he waited
Put his mask on, hesitated
Then rushed in through, the bank's front doors
While standing on the lobby floor
With gun held high he shot one round
"Now everybody-- best get down"
Laying face down on the floor
A dozen patrons maybe more
And a teller, young in age
Standing frozen in the cage
So the crook with lightening speed
Driven by his lust for greed
Tossed a bag and said to fill it
Got it filled, then turned to split
As he ran, a man quite daring
Grabbed the mask the crook was wearing
At once the man, seamed surprised
Looked the robber in the eyes
Then took a bullet in the head
Now on the marble floor lied dead
The thief now desperate, looked around
At all the patrons looking down
But saw the teller, see his face
Then walked to him in rapid pace
And put the gun up to his head
Another victim laid there dead
Now the thief to end it all
Shouted out inside that hall
"Has anyone else, seen my face ?"
Perhaps a glimpse might leave a trace
Then McGee said "I'm no sneak
But I think me wife , just took a peek"
Proud fathers and relatives of the past.
Ghost's of thoose first Irish americans.
Eventhough the ignorant tried to kill us
still we did last.
Using are fists and breaking are backs.
from New York to Boston.
Green blood dries in the tracks.
Beautiful Island of green we left yet still
within are souls you stay.
From Belfast to Dublin In croweded streets
were children play.
Some call us paddy the brave few dare say mic.
Hate filled people casting stones
at the weak and sick.
As we viewed a new promise we
were met with a black eye.
But from the church to the pud.
The Irish were to strong to die.
And for all thoose who fought so I my
may talk to you from this stool I sit.
I promise you children of Eran .
I shall never quit.
So may the people dance and sing while the whiskey
does flow.
Let the young carry the torch
so all may know.
from shamrocks to St Patricks day.
Weve come to far.
So we shall never go away.
I shrivel 'neath a scorching sun,
Devoid protection for my skin,
An aching grimace, I'll show none,
Worse burning pain suppurates within.
I wander naked through the rain,
Although my body fully clothed,
This broken love ne'er to regain,
Only in dreams we join betrothed.
I trace her footsteps in the snow,
And further on discover four,
A melting tear I can't forego,
The hurt bites sharp as glinting hoar.
I ramble lonely in the wind,
And taste her breath on every gust,
The rose that on her blouse I pinned,
Dead petals fell, and blew like dust.
I fall thwarted on lush ground,
So soft the breast of mother earth,
From looming hills my cries resound,
She comforts me for all she's worth.
Dim twilight dulled the failing day,
The robin shared her even' song,
And as we went our seperate way,
I blew a kiss !.....but she was gone !