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Best Ireland Poems

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Details | Ireland Poem | |

The Pub II

Inside pub steins stout magic spoke
‘neath genie wisps of bangle smoke
Brown cone cigars, deep chubby pipes
Aromatic spills to breach the night.
Music calls to muted songs 
Rough knuckles echo Bodhrán drums.
Flute, melodeon, bouzouki*, mandolin
Penny whistles, uilleann pipes, one feisty violin.
Pied piper rhythms, pied piper beats
Bold Celtic persuasions to move proud legs and feet. 

To Daver and friendship, thank you!

* Bouzouki...A stringed instrument that could stand up to the volume and intensity of fiddles, flutes, accordions, and pipes.
*uilleann pipes...Irish bagpipes...melodeon. an Irish accordian

Details | Ireland Poem | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Details | Ireland Poem | |

Now that's a Shame

~~~
Tis a gladness found in sadness
mostly pleasure
wince of pain
From an odor round the barroom
none the boys could e'er explain
Like a billowed line of washin'
after gentle fallen rain
Tis the wail of spring befallin'
on a barfly
oh ... the shame
~
Lo
there's homework
I'm the tender
to a list of things that broke
Ere the boss be sharing surely
words no poet ever spoke
Lazy good for nothing boozer
paint the fence and fix the gate
You want a pint ... you must be kidding
Plow the forty ... 'fore it's late
~
Down the misty path of memories
thoughts of Kelsey's brew appears
In a vision almost godly
round a table rests my peers
And no memory tarries longer
forceful
clearer
sweeter
stronger
than ol' Kelsey pouring liquor at the bar
I sheds a tear
~
Summer sadness tans bare shoulders
to replace the winter's shun
And the kids each day
they greet me ... Morning Dad
YOUR IT ... then run
Lord
I never knew that Heaven
'twas the place beyond my wall
Till I heard my children laugh
while toasting mallows in the fall
~
Though breath of Heaven
washed the aftertaste
of Kelsey's from my life
And forever I'll be holding ... dear
new memories
with my wife
I am angered at the sign
that hangs atop ol' Kelsey's door
. . . NO BARFLIES . . .
. . . CASH RESPECTED . . .
~
Sure
His wife now runs the bar
~~~

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Finn Mcgee and Me part3

MacJock looked uptight

When we said "That's not right,

We're not paying one pence you see" 

Den Finn swung and missed

With his powerful fist

And it landed on the jaw of McGee

MacJock grabbed a bottle

Intending to throttle

The closest poor sod in his way

And this caused a ruckus

McGee was so luckless

It certainly wasn't his day 

But when Macjock hit McGee

He went flying you see

And busted MacJock's new table

Then McGee tossed a chair

Clear through the air

Hoping MacJock to disable

The others ensued 

In this Hullaballoo 

Until, all I could see was the brawl

There were glasses and mugs

Bottles and jugs 

Smashing against every wall

The place was a mess

I sure can attest

When the fightin' came to its end

Not an eye was still blinking

So I started thinking

Dat its tyme to go 'ome un mend





Just one more part will end it

Details | Ireland Poem | |

An Irish Robbery

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"



 

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Hell

I sauntered out of an Irish Pub
Basted in booze and Irish smooze
The whiskeys sure didn’t cover the blues
Me, I knew this wasn’t good news

As a crossed the street
I met a bus, Full of nuns, all in a fuss
There was no contest, the bus sure won
I was run over and ready for a place with no sun

I arrived in hell, this surly no surprise
At least I was drunk, or so Satan surmised
He looked confused and asked who am I?
A Lawyer? a Dictator? or maybe I was both?

I apologized profusely for I surely was not
Any of those professions, I'm no in their lot
He asked if I was expecting 72 virgins?
As drunk as I was, I said I was not

He was angry and mad, there was doubt
What could the Devil do? He seemed in a stew
So he gave me a degree, in Law and Justice
So I could live in hell among all the others untrusted!

Notes: No Lawyers were hurt or maimed in the writing of this poem, and I apologize for that!

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Kingdom Lost

In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march  
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die, 
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone 
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is 
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown, 
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
was mistaken,
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
 
 
Copyright © 2013
 

Details | Ireland Poem | |

The Castle

In the green countryside of Wales,
A castle sits, dark and decaying,
It holds many ghostly tales,
That the locals keep relaying.

Surrounded by majestic, rolling hillsides,
Covered by a gray, misty shroud,
And cliffs high above the blue sea tides,
Where voices still ring out loud.

What was once a beautiful garden,
Where all the children used to play,
Has been left to whither and harden,
Just as the castle was left to decay.

Long cobwebs hang like curtains of lace,
In windows that remain dark and cold,
Someone still walks the crumbling staircase,
Just as they did in the days of old.

They walk the towers and through the halls,
Making the dusty, wooden floors creak,
Their portraits still hang on the walls,
Where the voices of the dead still speak.

The empty rooms will never make a sound,
But, if you listen hard enough to their history,
Stories of romance and love still abound,
Along with secrets of murders and mystery.





Written by: Kelly Deschler - August 8th, 2013
Giorgio V's contest - "In The Faraway" - the theme is gothic

Details | Ireland Poem | |

fork in road

   mixing words and rhyme , devote passion designed,  
   colors and shades blend , my vision I send ,a path 

   a mystic Irish presence , calming senses , 
   whispers in ear to follow stay near,  a path
   
   all pain considered wisdom is delivered,  
   making the changes needed to live yet give, a path

   past ,present, future fate, open the gate, 
   presently undecided  the road divided, a path

   the long destination refuse to show desperation, a path
   my soul on fire my love desired,   a path

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Celtic Mist

            CELTIC MIST
Through mists of time and legends lore,
a Celtic mist invades our core.
Haunts our soul, stirs our mind,
looks through eyes forever blind.
To ancient times, lost along the way,
like an orphaned prodigal prodigy.
Mark the thought and slip back in time,
where honor reigned and stood sublime.
The year stirs awake from its icy wonder,
animals rouse from hides buried under.
Life buds swell, grow and start to bloom,
resurrected life, fresh ready to consume.
The livestock loose from shelters shell,
and pass through Beltain's fire like hell.
The bright time season as was once known,
of new born lambs and crops fresh sown.
A time of fertility when wars would rage,
of invasions passed from Druid’s sage.
The May Queen glares on the fires of Bel,
flowers freshly picked, decked the holy well .
The great Elk wanders, crunching under foot,
waving his antlers that from his crown did jut.
Like Cernunnos, god of the underworld dire,
feared by man, yet seduced by its desire.
To tame a land, too harvest its seed,
but sows the grain yet reaps the weed.

The Pooka stares, with its evil eagle eye,
harries the innocent, destroys with a sigh.
To mysterious waters, brine coloured despair,
lost to elder’s cries within Balors dripping lair.

Sidhe flit’s across the mind, a spirit of the dead,
arousing hidden memories lost within your head.
Morgana calls, the Queen of the fortunate isles,
prompting you awake, as you step the Celtic stiles.

Details | Ireland Poem | |

My Old Bucket

I lost my old bucket so sadly,
And felt oh so terribly badly;
Then lo and behold
A pot full of gold!
I'd lose me another and gladly.

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Fishing Buy The Pound

Finn and Mcgee
went fishing once more
With the money they saved up all year

They rented a cabin 
up by the lake
And filled it with fish bate and beer

For two weeks of fishing
They made it their mission 
To wake up and start at first light

With poles in their hands
They hardly could wait
For a big fish to come up and bit

Day after day
They fished and they fished
but barely got even a nibble

Then on the last day
McGee caught a trout
That apparently wasn't so fickle

Now on the way Home
Finn said to McGee
"You Know what this fish, has cost you...

...A thousand Quid"
"Well Finn, if it did
Then I glad I didn't catch two"

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Celtic Lunar Sacrifice

     CELTIC LUNAR SACRIFICE
That night,  the dead, rose up into the dark of night,
to make their way led by the Druids' burning light;
there's buried many soul they chained and bound
deep in the mother earth, their mournful sound
is wailing through the dark of this, their dreaded night.

The bonfires burned and brightly through the land of Gaul
the dead of plants, and dying life, they burned them all
as sacrifice to help ones through the cold
of coming months of misery untold
but prophesied to be, throughout the land of Gaul.

And there beneath the Celtic moon to lead them on
all madness of the times prevailed from dark to dawn
The mid of ev'nin brought the earthly fear
of death to all who looked--their death was near,
a blessing that would keep the others living on.

And so the lord of death would pass them by that night
they stretched some maiden's arms, and bound them tight,
who might have shown a bit too much desire
and set their souls adrift that night a'fire,
and some say we still hear them screaming out tonight.
© Ron Wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Irish Slaves

Once upon a time we all used to live together. By we I mean blacks and whites. The people from Ireland 'Irish" lived with black Caribbeans. They were shipped from Ireland as slaves to west indian masters. they settled in a place called Montserrat. None of the were freed from slavery. They never had a law passed to free Irish slaves. However, after they finished their work of their masters they  eventually were set free. 
    Blacks lived with some Irish whites and British whites. They had to travel to Africa to gather people who knew nothing about slaves or slavery. They couldn't capture west indian people because that's where they came from. They used the money collected from their masters to buy their new slaves. African slaves were indeed freed by president Abraham Lincoln. Who wrote and signed the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863. 
    Even after slavery blacks and whites continued to live and work together. Some even had children by their masters. Things were this way for years. All they had was each other. All they knew was each other. The only two races forced to live together. Can't get along today in today's society. These facts maybe be a harsh reality, but oh so true.
They only two races of people that were not slaves were the Spanish and Italians.  They were never owned, sold, or brought by a black or white man. They fought for their belief and freedom. Also demanded respect so they would not have to bow down to any master. They never got captured and beat. They did the beatings and never got beat. They also lived in black neighborhoods. Which  sometimes caused riots. rivalries, and many fights.  Due to they fact that both races are very similar in alot of ways.
    Overall, blacks and whites both endured slavery to some extreme. Our ancestors would, protest, march, died, and sacrificed for our freedom today. So I don't understand why there is so much hate in the world today. If you don't know your past;you won't be able to handle your future. You will be without understanding. History does repeat itself. Thank You!

Details | Ireland Poem | |

X Marks The Spot

Once a year, it's the season, I fear
That lures us three, to the loch
Were we rent a boat, in earnest we hope
To catch all the fish, that they stock

McGee, he was rowing, I told him, "Start Slowing"
For here, looks like a good spot
The anchor cast in, by our big strong friend, Finn
I'm just glad he remembered the knot 

It didn't take long, we were hit by a throng
Seemed like, every dam fish in the lake
We all wore a grin, while we pulled them all in
'Cause we didn't have time to use bait

When the Day was done, so was our fun
As our boat was filled to the brim
I fumbled about, and pull up some stout
As the Sun was now getting dim

As we sat their all drinking, Finn started thinking
I wish we could find our way here
Or mark this grand hole, so we would all know
The place we should fish, come next year

That's when McGee, said "I know the key"
Then produced a piece of white chalk
"I'll mark on the bow, the place we are now
So next year we'll know we ought !

Finn then gave in, as he said with a grin
'It's your Genius, McGee that I fear
But how do you know, as rentals will go
We'll be getting the same boat next year" 









Details | Ireland Poem | |

A PUPPY'S CRY

Irene went for her usual morning walk around six;
the August breeze was dry and fragrantly crisp,
one could tell she was injured as her aching hips
made her miss a step as she bit on her weathered lips.


Not far from her stone cottage, there was a cave never hit by sun rays,
it was hidden from sight by shrubs and weeds that almost
covered her cavity and at nighttime it seemed a ghost;
wasn't it the refuge of persecuted Christians when Celts were pagans?


The streets were very narrow and cracked cobblestones
made her slow down...using caution could have prevented a serious sprain;
an athlete is known for strength and endurance and she fought pain
by looking down and running downhill towards the treeless hills.


Irene had two wonderful kids: one was a gorgeous boy and the other a pretty girl, 
and they both had hair as golden wheat and eyes as the wild Irish Sea;
and whispering to herself, " I will miss my walks in the Fall with Kelly and Bill...
and after the baby is born, wouldn't I stare out of the window with melancholy?"


While pondering that thought, she heard a puppy's cry coming out of the dark cave
that gave her goose bumps and searching carefully she saw the pitiless animal
struggling on three legs, but the forth leg was badly injured or broken by the fall;
rapidly she grabbed the long rope and started her descend as a coffin into a grave.


Helen hit ground hard and that startled the poor puppy laying on a plate of chrome,
" You are safe with me and because I've found you in this cave, I'm going to 
name you Cavy, lucky pooch! This bad accident was a turning point for you!"
And he barked for approval, being happy to have survived and found a new home.
 

Details | Ireland Poem | |

I Dreamt of you my Irish Queen

With radiant smile upon your face,
A flowing gown across your breast,
adorned with rooting shades of green.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

Your hair a  streaming,  golden mass,
we merge across the darkened room,
dwelling in my nightly, misty dreams.  
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

A solid shore of unyielding force,
against the storms of frequent turmoil,
shelter from tides yet unseen.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

Peaceful nights under flickering stars,
we connect through lasting passion,
an ecstatic conveyance to places serene.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen.

In places of soothing splendor I see,
what two hearts can build in harmony.
Our nights blend to locations unforeseen.
I dreamt of you my Irish queen. 
 

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Partial Eclipse of the Sun seen in Ireland today

It was a majestic sunrise
as a honeyed circle rose behind tall silhouette trees
emanating wonder and peace
an apple sun
with a bite bitten
the garden of Eden flashed my mind
as a partial eclipse of the sun glowed
a very special good morning 
watching the moon circle the sun

Details | Ireland Poem | |

AYE IRELAND

Aye Ireland -
king of the ol’ plains,
ye beacon us back to 
the land of shamrocks,
wid yer pubs-n-ale,
mates and song,
and Celtic traditions
wid Gaelic delight.

Aye Ireland,
on Saint Patty’s Day 
ye awaken us 
to yer majestic beauty,
panoramic shores,
tranquil life,
courageous history 
and aye, 
yer lovely Irish maidens.

Aye Ireland –
through trails 
and tribulation
yer sparkle endures.
Ye embrace faith,
play hard,
laugh hardy
feel yer hearts wid joy
and love 
wid deliberation 
and purpose.

Aye Ireland -
beautiful Ireland,
king of the ol’ plains –
ye beacon us.

bhí dhá labhra budh rí ar seanchlár

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Irish Tall Tale

Come all ye, kiss that blarney stone
Join in the legend and be known
For the gift of gab
Ye come kiss the slab
Eloquence and luck shall be shown

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Celtic Love

      CELTIC LOVE
The paths we take under the eye of god
and universe, but some consider odd
Great mother Dana, knowing everything,
help us to grow, into a birth of spring,
and know from where our lonely feet have trod.

In Celtic roots, from shores of Normandy
we came from long ago, a time called history,
made weary from the Roman and his sword
in seeking vengance, as if they were lord,
and Ireland is the place we chose to be.

They layed to waste all things we'd ever known
spared not one child--their hearts were solid stone
and Caeser put us out to where we choose to be
here in our emerald upon the sea,
to where, great mother, only you had known.

The Wicca way, so deep out of our past
now comes of age, as if a spell were cast
to love all things, and have you at my side,
the only place where two in love can hide,
here in the only dream to ever last.

You'll be as much a part of all of me
as anything in life could ever be,
and we shall honor all and everything,
each to it's own, our destiny might bring,
and everything in life we'll ever see.

Forget my name, remember just my way
of loving you both every night and day
We'll have it all, if we can realize,
that all we want is here before our eyes,
and all we need is here, and on our way.
© Ron Wilson

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Give Thanks

Mountains rushing towards the heavens
Grass so green it hurts your eyes
When the sun breaks through to light it
From the grey cloud covered sky
Sandy beaches free from clutter
Waiting at the mountains feet
Shifting with the waves that wash them
To yet some other mountain meet
See the rushes as they grow now
At the bottom of the hill
Hear the brook a gently bubbling
Always running never still
Smell the mountain air so sweet 
On the breeze as it is blown
Into every crack and crevice
Through the trees now hear it moan
Watch the stars light up the heavens
Like a million fairy lights
Hear the thunder as it booms out
Making us to cuddle tight
Now give thanks unto your Maker
For this land beauteous to see
And thanks for having all our senses
To let us all this beauty see



Details | Ireland Poem | |

Good old days

I remember the smell of the polish
The hissing of steam from the pots
The songs on the radio playing
And my nose dripping with snot

Mum would grab me and wipe it
With a dexterity practised before
Leaving my nose like a beacon
Me screeching as I went out the door  

My older sisters were singing
As they , the house chores fulfilled
The sun cut a beam through the window
And there on the Lino it spilled

Dust particles in its light they floated
Not seen when its power was gone
Yet they danced to the radio music
As the sun through the window it shone

These days are now but a memory
But oh what a treasure they are
Nothing I have can replace them
Neither jewel nor silver nor car



Details | Ireland Poem | |

Finn, Me and McGee

Me un Finn came  'round

In what did we found

The Pub, wid a very large lock

Aye keep the key where no one cann see

Said our find mate, Erik McJock

So, let us awl in, out spurted  Finn

Cus drinkin' is what were intendin' 

Then  McJock with  wide  eyes

Said out with a cry, "Ow much

You intend apon spendin' "

Well don't look at me

Said Wee luck Mcgee

I've been tapped out fur mo than a week

So I looked awl around and instinctively found

No one wanted teh speak

I said "Dats just fine"

And in lew of badd times

I reached  for my purse at my side,

"Bot it 'ad  large 'ole

Wer der money should go

So,I quess I'll be sayin Goodby"

"I say not so fast"

Came MacJocks voice alas

As he magically conjured da key

I'll bye you one drink, an don't be a Fink

"Cause dat awl you'd be gettin' for free

"You're a Lads lad " said Finn

As he barged 'is way in

Leadin' the mob to the bar

MacJock went 'round and set glasses down

Den Produced a very large jar

We all looked at da jar

Und we awl scratched our 'eads

In wonderin' what it moight be

Bot we was unable, for it hadn't a label

And it certainly was"t white tea

Den MacJock took the vessel

Und stringently wrestled 

Da lid dat was on wicked toight

Und as we grew near, we awl shared da fear

Dat it moightn't be enought for da night

Bot MacJock Was agreeing 

Da whot we were seein'

Was aged in an old crock

One of these be, equal to three

Of da best stuff  'e 'ad in stock

So MacJock poured the first

To quench old Finn's thirst

Then he poured one for me and the fellers 

There in my ear he said it quiet clear

"I keep the best stuff down here in the cellar"

Finn was da first

For betta or worst

To shoot down the shot

'E was eye'n

Den Wee luk McGee

Said "As long as it's free

I don't mind a bit dat I'm try'n "

The other lads, now

Pressed a glass to dier brow

In salute to dier Patron MacJock

Dey den knocked dem awl back

Gave the bar a loud whack 

While findin' it to  'ard teh talk

It went down quite easy

Din made us all queazy 

And as soon as I was able teh speak

I ask Ol' MacJock

What da heck's in dat crock

As I stilt felt the flush in me cheeks

MacJock gave a laugh, in his chair he reeled back

And gave a good slap on his knee

Then turned to pour, each member one more

Which almost knocked over McGee

McGee started off

With a wee nervous cough 

Din stuttered out a few words

"As long as you're  buyin' Dere's no use denyin'

I must let a notch out me gird

We all stood there slapin'

McGees back and laughin'

As we slowly lifted our drinks

I'll make a grand toast

Said I to our 'ost

And  gave old MacJock a wink

I said It is true

No utter wid do

Wot MacJock as dun fur us

So let's us salute 

That big tall gallute 

So din pour us another he must

Every time, dat he poured

There appeared a bit more

Of dat nectar, contained by the jar

Bot we didna take notice

Of the chance of sclerosis

There's no way we were leave'in da bar

MacJock kept on serving

Widout need of conserving

Dere seem to be plenty for awl

And he quickly would pour

Not a glass he'd ignored

When one of us lads made the call
.................................................. to be continued

Details | Ireland Poem | |

Impression From Grandmother 3x Esther Louise Arbuthnot's Photograph 1876

    TEARS OF AN IRISH GIRL
        ( Impression From Grandmother 3x Esther Louise Arbuthnot's Photograph 1876)
While the rain is falling gently on the roof it makes the sound
of a time that's long forgotten though it seems to hang around
I can hear you breathing lightly from an Irish dream I've known
it has come to Pennsylvania where you've found me here alone
       and I can feel you when you cry.
       So far from home, you wonder why,
       and it makes me want to die.

All the way from County Down there was a dream you had to find
you were long ago and far away, but always on my mind,
in your photograph your eyes are reaching out perhaps for me,
I can feel you when I see you but I never really see,
       what makes you think you have to cry?
       You must have known I'd wonder why,
       it still makes me want to die.

Can you hear the raindrops falling? County Down's so far away,
or perhaps it's just forgotten, like a dreary Irish day,
I can feel it when you're smiling, and I see it in your eyes
love is gone before you know it, and it's then I realize,
       it's made you think you have to cry.
       And through it all, not wonder why,
       it still makes me want to die.
©  ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet