Ireland Poems

My chair, 
at times over 
the past twelve weeks
my prison cell. 
Seven weeks more 
before my sentence
is completed. 
But today,
my chair is going to be
my time machine.

Not flashy and gaudy,
with a Christmas display
of flashing, colorful lights,
nor as threatening as that
celebrated...Read More

A young Irish lass with no man
Danced in the Moulin Rouge Can-Can
In Dublin again
She joined with Sinn Fein
And bombed as Republican Anne...Read More

You tossed me about,
You smiled in motion as I broke in pierces,
Did you see what you had?
As you swayed me powerlessly unto the prisons of your heart,
You poisoned my heart with your trickery,
Something that looked like love,
Did you hear my...Read More

The Celtic Cross at Ile Grosse
by Michael R. Burch

“I actually visited the island and walked across those mass graves of 30, 000 Irish men, women and children, and I played a little tune on me whistle. I found it very...Read More

A ll things are as it may, beckons a queendom of two faiths,
B orrowed Boleyn's "B" blue brocade the better choice made,
C ancer claims the spring, agrees with the passage of her sister,
D elves to part the heavens anew throne,...Read More

Three faerie neonates left in the garden bright
They slept well yesterday, well into the night
The Banshee wanted to save them, but was attached to a house.
The Brownies were worried they would be eaten by a mouse.

Three brave faeries from fairyland...Read More

Padraig's Fire

Hurry!
Hurry through the night
With windstorms
Breathing at your back
Before the shadows know
You pass their doors -
Their darkened, dusty, empty hearths -
Before the dawn ascends -
Before the pipes awaken;
Carry close
Precious flint and tinder
Next to the wildly beating
Warmth -
Beneath your flowing cape.

Hurry!
Hurry...Read More

Heartbreak brings more strength
By: Ireland Dowd

Heartbreak is like a lit candle that is blown out.
Everything you know is only doubted.
A sad flashback of the memories you had shouted.
Right at the moment, those tears begin to sprout.
Time is a devil bringing...Read More

By Izunna Okafor



Beyond the shrubs of Sahara 
Lifted a munt of brainy bond 
Over the Mississippi of Ethiopia
Lofted a penner with his hunky thoughts

Across the bridge of a foreign land
Hovered a book of beautiful pages
Tightly enclaved yet as an Ireland
In a skull...Read More

Things Hurt
By: Ireland Dowd

Talk about all the failures of others all you want.
Hope it doesn’t come back to bite you.
I sincerely don’t care about all of the ludicrous you put on yourself.
Not only do I laugh at it, I choose...Read More

Songstress
by Michael R. Burch
 
for Nadia Anjuman
 
Within its starkwhite ribcage, how the heart
must flutter wildly, O, and always sing
against the pressing darkness: all it knows
until at last it feels the numbing sting
of death. Then life's brief vision swiftly passes,
imposing...Read More

When I had just turned nineteen,
I then caught the travel bug.
The urge to travel the world,
was similar to any drug.

But I lived in a country town;
quite green and very naive,
and the world is a big place
that was hard for me...Read More

CLARITY   FROM  OBSCURITY

Time the wanderer  -
For  a pyramid moment stilled  -
On a rain-filled winter night
In dark  narrow streets
Often  hostile, alien,
Tonight  familiar friends,
Seems  to  offer  safe limits. 

Certainty in...Read More

Vodka seems to be part of the Russians.
It's like order and structure for Prussians.
Vodka opens the mind,
but it makes one inclined
to fall over and suffer concussions.

How the Irish delight in their drink
is straightforward and touching I think.
Sean and Mary McGinnis
raise...Read More

There’s one thing that bonds animal to man,
That unites the wild with the caged,
Those captivated within bondage and those roaming free; disengaged.
At a first wandering gaze or slinking inquisitive eye,
One may be misled in the assumption that this feature perhaps...Read More

Brexit!
The dreaded word,
haunts us once again,
Oh!Visions of doom, burst and gloom!
lies and false promises spun in looms,
In Houses of Parliament rooms,
To craft election win,
And enforce,
Brexit!





A red- letter day Rictameter poetry Contest...Read More

How Long the Night
translation by Michael R. Burch

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts
with the mild pheasants' song ...
but now I feel the northern wind's blast—
its severe weather strong.
Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!
And I, because of my...Read More

It is far, far better that I see
and train my eyes to look for thee.
Try, trying, tried but to no avail,
To gaze upon shores through fog’s veil
For a glimpse of my dear city Cork. 
...Read More

County Down winter falls hard buried in snow
Bone chilling ice buries the soul that had a heart
Sliced in two twice removed from love from life
From the equation to a distance in a kiss
Mistaken for friendship that missed the mark 
Bone...Read More

They tried but left in tears,
Now,far from Ireland's sadness.
A train of covered wagons
upon vast plains of promise.
Cork, but a dream in a tear....Read More

i hate to 
be short
but not a
midget
or to be
politically
correct a
little person

but in Ireland
in days of 
yore not
your or
my time
i would
have
been

a wee folk or
in the land of
oz i would
have been 
a munchkin
and in other
times i'm not
sure where

the word dwarf
derived from
but now
looking
back
and
re
re

ading...Read More

“Irish I am,” my mam speaks in hushed tones to the air
She questions still, seeming to her alone
Intones, “Ireland, O Ireland, what are you?
Where do you keep yourself, so I may rediscover you?”
Her speech unknown surely to her
Rains down, trickles...Read More

Our doctor's name is Dr. Liam Crummy
In Ireland, it's a common name but we find it funny
“Top 'o the morning”
Means “A good day coming”
Wish I was Irish, they're language is charming




...Read More

Erin, for a girl who embodies Ireland
by Michael R. Burch

All that’s left of Ireland is her hair—
bright carrot—and her milkmaid-pallid skin,
her brilliant air of cavalier despair,
her train of children—some conceived in sin,
the others to avoid it. For nowhere
is evidence of...Read More

This is the place the ’punchers come
when it is time to drink their pay,
ride in from the hilly rangelands
to forget cattle for a day.

Norma in the kitchen will cook
beef and spuds for this roving horde,
her husband Mick will greet them...Read More