Best Luck Of The Irish Poems
Mr. O'Toole in trauma sat in front
Seeking mercy from tax assessor stunt.
His Irish luck grace
Full Blown-in his face.
With distaste pay money in full upfront.
3/26/2025
Ahhh the luck of the Irish
complete with leprechauns
and pots of gold
The Emerald Isle
God's country
filled with lyrical voice
but no one hears her cry
that fabled luck
truly a fable t'would seem
suffering
the only thing in abundance
it is their only pot
that remains filled
an impoverished relative
showing up late for dinner
tossed a few scraps
from the rich relatives
but not allowed to sit at the table
a history rich with servitude
famine, plaque
and indentured slavery
spit upon by class distinctions
laughed about as uneducated
their brogue common
ahhh yes the curse of the commoner
in a society that rewards
upper class and the deemed
right of birth
drunken happy go lucky louts
that would steal your pants
rather than wash his own
and on and on the prejudice flows
from old days into the new
of drinking and gambling
even in the movies
portrayed as a rogue
these perceptions followed
fine people across the sea
where they built the cities
endured the hardships
and still no one hears their cry
no one gives them their due
they did the jobs
others were to afraid to do
the hard labor
standing on steel skyscrapers
so many descendent's
of this proud people
have formed the foundations
of other countries
and still they do not control their own
now the world frowns
not understanding the religious battle
that dwells within
it's all they have
their faith
it makes perfect sense to me
for yes the Irish
would start a fight in a church
for they are not afraid
to stand up for their beliefs
they are just hollow
for so much
has been taken from them
so much suffering
has been endured
so they cling to their faith
as a man clings to a life preserver
for to lose that last vestige
they will lose themselves
ahhhh the luck of the Irish
maybe they should pass that luck to another
then maybe someone will hear their cries
someday they may follow the rainbow
and will truly find that pot of gold
A leprechaun looking for gold
'neath the shimmering shamrocks of olde
(with the luck of a Gael)
found ten bottles of ale
somewhat green as if covered with mould.
3/15/2017
The luck of the Irish has always been
St Patrick did not preach for men to preen
in great lewdness and less love
but for friends to look above...
with gratitude garnished with touch of green.
Written 02/4/ 2017
Last night I heard the banshee,
After a few swigs of whiskey,
And after I heard her scream,
I poured some Bailey's and cream.
Now I cannot hear her nor see.
3/13/17
Wednesday's the middle of the sandwich
equidistant from weekends -- unhitched
Plenty of room for all those toppings
ketchup, mayo and rain showers -- she's sopping
How unjust, other days' inequitable ways
they'd blanch at my nickname of 'Hump Day'...
Alas, ignominy grinds on; the day's not yet over
~ Tomorrow's Thursday, that four-leaf clover
Green four-leaf clover
Mutated symbol of luck
Nature's sign of hope
My connection to Irishness is tenuous at best,
So, my habit of getting out of fixes seems to rest,
With my Guardian angel being one of the best.
For example, today I caught the bus to my Friday cleaning job,
Without my keys to do the job,
Not to worry my Guardian Angel managed the situation,
So, when I got to the bus station,
I was in time to step on a return bus to my home situation,
Retrieve my keys and step onto another bus to the right station,
Walk to minutes to my cleaning situation,
And finish the cleaning in time to walk back to the bus station,
To step onto another bus that got me home in time to sort my lunch situation.
Thank you Guardian Angel for saving my bacon.