Long Irish Poems
Long Irish Poems. Below are the most popular long Irish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Irish poems by poem length and keyword.
Every form of life has it's walls, nothing, no one stands alone
some are trees, brush, branch, twig and wood and bark
some are mortar and stone, mere workers flesh and bone
others lay in memorials of the mind and heart of freedom's start.
Walking in the shadows of the forest growing bare
the pathway, worn and tattered by twigs and leaves of this locale
abandoned layers born of unknown, hidden architects no longer there
an opening spillway becomes a stage to walled canals.
Some harvested stone stacked upon each side
keeping water flow secure along Delaware and Raritan park roams
contained and directed from Bound Brook on to Princeton pride
away from the mix of dirt and cobblestones.
Who once walked here, where canoed and kayak waters strewn?
along this unpaved curl of hidden trails indemnity
twists and turns unfurling to a spillway hewn
where memorials now stand as markers without memory.
They say, Irish immigrants built this waterway like a well-planned quilt
some bodies buried where they worked and died
benath the rocked mortared wall containments blood built
and their hearts sought freedom without walls that today still cry,
For Craig Cornish cotest, A Wall in the Woods
10/7/2020
Background: The 70-mile Delaware and Raritan Canal State Park is one of central New Jersey's most popular recreational corridors for canoeing, jogging, hiking, bicycling, fishing and horseback riding. The canal and the park are part of the National Recreation Trail System. This linear park is also a valuable wildlife corridor connecting fields and forests. A recent bird survey conducted in the park revealed 160 species of birds, almost 90 of which nested in the park.
With its wooden bridges and 19th century bridge tender houses, remnants of locks, cobblestone spillways and hand-built stone-arched culverts, the canal is a tremendous attraction for history lovers. The upper portion of the feeder canal follows the Delaware River through historic New Jersey towns such as Frenchtown, Stockton and Lambertville. The main canal passes the Port Mercer bridge tender's house, through the charming villages of Kingston and Griggstown to Blackwells Mills.
The EU Commissioner to do with competition,
Ruled against Apple’s avoidance of Euro tax,
By homing itself in southern Ireland, evasion,
Where it doesn’t pay tax in a double Irish fax.
One ramification of Brexit is that the good EU,
Will be looking in this divorce proceedings interim,
At other filters of finance for its adhesive glue,
At other ways to support its productions and vim.
The thing is, I expected this rational reflection,
For some time, since the many shamed the greats,
When in 2015 Amazon was sought for collection,
Along with Google and Starbucks, at the gates.
you followed closely behind me
out the corner of my eyes
I could only see your shadow looming
I clutched my books closer to my vest
losing a button at the light dashing
through the alley the sign read kennedy
my heart panting my penny loafer's
splashed about tainted oil spills
from auto mechanics mesh
dantily I walked backwards
backing into the irish stone building
reeking of fear I let out an infamous
sigh catering to my path
looking over my shoulder glancing
through my dark rimmed glasses
dropping my pencil I scurried off
in spite your awkward gestures
to take a peek at my drawings
suddenly i remembered you
when my pedal broke
while riding my mongoose
from thee oxford exchange
settling inside the soft nook
of pastel fabrics from Pakistan
anxious I was eagar to make it home
away from your froward eyes
wondering what could you want
dropping my notebook just in time
for a fire drill at st Theresa
school of arts dazzled I was
when father arrived holding
his lantern exposing your
dark expression so cleaverly
portrayed your blackness in snow
finally revealing the face of a crow
~Irish Blessings~
(Rhyming Couplets)
Again is another St. Patrick's Day
And we celebrate it in a grand way
We sure like wearing something green
And show it upon a shirt or a pair of jeans
There's something nice about this holiday
And lots of us agree that is a special day
When we can think for some good reason
About other things that relate to this season
Some people feel just like dancing
While making merry and all the way laughing
Some like watching for those jolly green little men
Leaping and dancing while carrying gold by the glen
St. Patrick's Day is a very happy day
Filled of fanciful fables the Irish way
Enshrouded in mysteries and fairy tales
One more than the other behind an Irish veil
So today is another St. Patrick's Day
Let's dance and be merry the whole day
Let's search for leprechauns and for a four-leaf-clover
And find rainbows even after this day is over.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
March.17.2015
IN GOD I TRUST!
Roses are red,
Violets are blue
Wait,
Violets are really more purple
that's why they're called "Violet",
right?
And come to think of it Roses are pink
and sometimes white and yellow
and
peach
and purple!
No!!
I thought Violets are purple!
My mother's maiden name is
Violett
but with two Ts at the end.
I think it's French,
but we're Scottish and Irish and
English
and
German,
and what about the German Violet.
It sometimes blooms white and lavender,
but isn't it better known as the
Persian Violet.
Then there's the African Violet
and the New Guinea Violet,
no
that's an Impatiens,
scratch that last one.
Stop!!
I'm getting a headache.
What
was
this
about
anyway?
Oh,
Roses are red white yellow peach purple,
Violets are blue white lavender and spelled with two Ts
(sometimes)
It doesn't sound quite right anymore.
Oh
well,
you get the idea.
Have a wonderful loving Valenttine's Day!! (with two TTs)
02/14/16
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman Flying
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, seeks young sprig poe
whet tick friend in toto,
though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
Walking along the path of the Leprechaun,
was the greenest grass I've ever walked on.
The sound of a harp whistled through the trees.
A little wood nymph said "Follow me please."
I stayed really close afraid to get lost.
First time in Ireland she was the boss.
"A little bit further to a pot of Gold,
If you're deserving, of it you will hold."
The path was lit with an unearthly glow,
never have I seen such a huge rainbow.
right up ahead was the pot of Treasure,
the Lerechaun asked, "what is your pleasure?"
I want your Treasure to give to the weak.
It is not for me this Treasure I seek.
I come from a place in a far off land,
people are poor they need a helping hand.
"How do I know your not telling me a lie?"
"For all I know you're a deceiving guy."
If you don't believe me that is okay,
Send the Gold to the needy then I'll stay.
In but a moment I seen the sky flash,
Suddenly all the Gold turned to cash.
"Alright I'll trust you to do what you say'
If you don't I'll come take it all away."
Irish Poems Poetry Contest.
When I was a younger man, the ladies fancied me.
I’d beguile them with my smile and winsome flattery.
“Tell me do you love me true? Am I the only one?
Do you swear to marry me? Take me as your beloved?”
“Oh yes, you are the only one. I’ve only eyes for you
And if you’d lay your body down, I would marry you.”
I preyed upon their innocence. I trifled with their dreams.
But never did I fall in love, ‘till I met Josephine.
Josephine, Josephine
Prettiest girl that I’ve ever seen.
Josephine, sweet Josephine
I dream of you at night.
An Irish girl, red ringlet curls, with sparkling emerald eyes
Oh to kiss her ruby lips and to win her bonny smile!
If a sultry bird came around to give herself to me
I'd turn her away that I might win sweet Josephine.
“Oh my darling, oh my dear
I’ll always love you best.
I would keep you sweet for aye.
Till Jesus gives you rest.”
Josephine oh Josephine
Prettiest girl that I’ve ever seen.
Josephine, sweet Josephine
I pray you be my bride.
I bought a ring for Josephine, to win her heart sublime.
Gold and silver filigree, set diamonds shining bright.
Then I went down on bended knee to ask her for her hand.
With impish smile she whispered I was not her only man.
Josephine, oh Josephine
Prettiest girl that I’ve ever seen.
Josephine, sweet Josephine
How could you break my heart?
Ten years I prayed and wished in vain I might see her again.
Another day I’d bear the shame, then die a lonely man.
But lo that evening Josephine, came knocking at my door.
Still a maid, her dalliances left her lone and poor.
“Oh my darling, oh my dear
I always loved you best.
I pray you keep me sweet for aye
‘Till Jesus gives me rest.”
She kissed me once and whispered, “Love, ‘till death will do us part.”
I kissed her twice and shoved a knife into her cheatin’ heart.
Josephine, oh Josephine.
Prettiest girl that I’d ever seen.
Josephine, sweet Josephine.
I’ll never see you again.
the witches and goblins do a Halloween dance
black cats with yellow eyes trot away in a prance
Celtic elves are arriving from Ireland and France
Jack-o-lantern grins, telling me his name is Lance.
I feel surrounded by Halloween, but it is early, right?
Don’t struggle against it, you will lose the fight.
This warning is given by a flame in the corner, bright.
Forty days until the dreaded ominous Halloween night.
I decide to order my costume, it had better be good.
I understand the pixies a bit, as an Irish lass should.
Enchanted broom in the corner offers to take me into the woods.
Am I a witch then? I guess this was something I misunderstood.
Sun is declining, beneath a blue Irish sea
With a fire to warm me' bones, in a cottage by the bay
And the coals to bake me scones,
Where the bracken turns so reddin'
Like a wildfire on the mountain
And wee nanny goats on rocky hillsides, are too many for the countin'
Heather waves in summer breezes...
And harshness bringin' winter's season
Thar' be waving sails upon the blue
And leafy shamrocks on the green
Where the rugged shores, and seagulls cry, and a sunset captures you
Granite stones, and bogs of grass, water gleams like shining glass
Friendly folks bearin' ruddy cheeks, and a colleen, fair thee lass
We'll tip our mug at village pub, and make a toast to St. Patty's kin
Let me sink me' eyes upon the scene of Irish rugged land
Upon the skies, upon the streams, where druid legends live
Upon the land...home of the clan, where me many roots began
Where the ole' pale moon at nightfall, scatters memories a'glowing
Of fair roses of Tralee, over garden gate, a growin'
Charming valleys, greener hillsides, fill thee heart of all 'me clan
Pick ye' a shamrock.... look for gold, shake yer' hands with leprechauns
Kiss ye' a Blarney .....Come to Killarny, come to all that's home to me
Where names of O'Reily, or McDougal where so many Mac' roots began
For Debbie's contest "Over the Rainbow"