Tipperary's a long way from here,
But the Emerald Isle's best beer,
Will enhance any ceilidh,
I wave my shillelagh,
With some Guinness, old Eire feels near.
Dragon from the Emerald Isle loved to take notes said Snappy.
Research was something that made him wildly happy.
He studied constellations, dinosaurs, extinct animals and stars.
Taking down notes in restaurants, strip clubs, churches and bars.
Strip clubs and churches? Does that seemed strange? I asked him.
He has to try and save the sinners right? Snappy said with a grin.
Dragon from the Emerald Isle is an eclectic kind of student guy.
Wish I was half as prolific as he is, said my friend with a sigh.
The Emerald Isle lies misty green,
an ocean's gem, a land between
the water's edge and blue of sky,
her magic wonders seldom seen.
For those who know her can't deny
although, in truth, they wonder why
the Irish spin their wondrous tales
to friends and strangers, stopping by.
An Irish story never fails,
in all its glorious details,
to weave a world of fae and sprite
who hide amongst the woodland trails.
The little folks keep far from sight,
but if you're very still, you might
just catch one dancing, unaware,
when day is slipping into night.
As songs of evening fill the air,
listen close and tread with care,
with little folks about somewhere—
with little folks about somewhere.
I'm going to fly,
and see Ireland,
The Emerald Isle,
My ticket's in hand.
Visit in a pub,
drink pints awhile.
Joke with the Locals,
carouse, laugh and smile.
Eat real Irish stew,
brown wheaten bread too.
Then go explore,
old castles of yore.
It's a must to make merry,
in walled London Derry.
All Through Halloween,
the Ghouls intervene.
Walk in fields of Heather,
A Musky purple scene.
Fragrance light as a feather,
Pristine and Serene.
Stay there at Galway,
for a few days.
Fish in the river,
or on the bay.
Have to see the Blarney,
and give it a big kiss.
Wish for some good luck,
but that's hit or miss.
I'm going to fly,
and see Ireland.
The Emerald Isle,
Spend time with Old Friend's.
Emerald Isle. ( song )
.
One ... day I will return to the emerald isle
That I ..love
Where I was born
And my heart belongs
To chase the pretty girls again
And listen to the old
...folk songs……..
.
For although I be a travelling man
And my feet cannot stay still...
So I roam…,,,
I’ve yet to find
A better place
My heart can find a home….
.
How I long….
To breath that air again….
And touch the emerald green
Sit and watch the fishing boats
Sail by
Like as a boy I did
And….. dream
.
How I miss the old.. pub in town
And all the people I used to know…..
I wonder how many are living now
And how many underground
.
For although I be a travelling man
And my feet cannot stay still
So I roam…...
I’ve yet to find
A better place
My heart can find a home…….
.
How I long….
To breath that air again
And touch the emerald green…...
Sit and watch the fishing boats
Sail by
Like as a boy I did
And….. dream
.
One day I will return to the emerald isle…...
That I love
Where I was born……..
And my heart belongs
To chase the pretty girls again
And listen to the old
...folk songs
.
Peter Dome©2021.
Brexit Sonnet No.21
‘This Emerald Isle’
So where’s it gone, this border fraught of ours?
It can’t be seen, this separation sore,
Drawn ‘cross troubled Isle by warlike Mars;
Scratched on map by infected hand of war.
Ignored by happy breed of Brexit man,
This spectre’s yet to come to Leaver’s feast,
Its fortress build and scupper faultlined plan,
With moat defensive, to drown the Brexit Beast.
So letteth not your Brexit lover’s passion
Be chilled or damped by spectre’s waiting rage.
Ignore it by all means and truth do ration,
And think of happier things that turn your page.
This blessed plot, this earth, this Emerald Isle,
Must choketh not on Brexit’s bitter bile
©Keith Murphy
sitting upon the rocks
oval bleached souls
with stone hearts
watching the waves rise
thoughts drift away
into another world
obscured
by cryptic currents
on the crest you sit
on the tempest
long-haired temptress
enticing with
your mermaid vice
crashing waves carpet
galloping onto sands
the white steed crashes
as sea lime backslides
salt upon this earth
breathe wild and free
I hear the seagulls cry
echoing off cliffs where
white skull prey lays
one moment smiling
then washed away
I found my Shangri-La
amidst black tidal pools
of misted mirrored pearl
drops that fall then stop
breathing in sea air
leaving a little love
upon the golden sands
a sailors burial ground
in the emerald Isle
© Liam McDaid/Kim van Breda—March 2016
Let me take you by the hand
And lead you through my loving land
You will be greeted with a smile
Share in banter that beguiles
As golden harps
Play sweet tunes
Leprechauns dance under full moons
Glowing fires warm you soul
As colleens dance on the ballroom floor
Fields are green and valleys lush
With streams and lakes
Full of tranquil hush
Castles stand throughout the land
Steeped in the history of their clans
The Amadawn ‘ave played the joker
for the Good folks fairy Coort
‘T was they ‘ave egged the paper birches
an’ touch’d the scare crow’s stalks.
They ‘ave giv'n leerin pumpkin ‘eads
to Dullahan black ‘eadless ‘orse.
Tied the liein’ Leprechain’s tongues.
Changed the dread Pooka’s course.
Stol'n the noble Banshees keen moan.
an ‘idden ‘er bone white comb.
They ‘ave lured two changeling lovers
to Red Man’s bloody ‘ome.
N’er free since June, the jesters play
their brash tricks on Samhain’s eve.
Stealin’ all the gifts left fur the dead
‘neath mournin’ mortals trees.
N’t till the sunrise will they lave off
wid ‘ the Leprechauns in toe.
And sadly scurry ‘omeward bound
sure laven us all alone!
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