Long Shamrock Poems
Long Shamrock Poems. Below are the most popular long Shamrock by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shamrock poems by poem length and keyword.
Meadow of Evermore Rise,
Verdant greens of envy neath the skies,
Emerald breathes swirl wayward bound,
The scene repeats the olivine surround,
Spray of jade gladiolas emerges for eyes.
The cool rocky fence tinged moss lies,
Gathered sage on display, tossed flies,
Observed fronds of ferns, all around,
Meadow of Evermore Rise,
The mints swim freely, breeze back tries,
A row of pines stands proud, trophy prize,
Laurel newborns crawl the hilly ground,
Chartreuse treats, all roaring to be found,
Harlequin limes anoint, trickled tea ties,
Meadow of Evermore Rise.
2019 September 24
aabba aabR aabbaR
it took one glance into your emerald eyes’ kindest beams
for the focus to change and enlighten darkness and pain
to guide my broken refraction towards your olive skin
I felt all verglas thawing vision and join chartreuse blinks
of the moment as light sea foam pastels sprouted lush ferns
presented sage mint and lime moss to the harlequin waiting
to be brushed by honeydew colour and cinnamon fragrance
my own wilted flowers struggled at first to blossom again
hibiscus cranberry and feverish scarlet had lain abandoned
hastened by drought colour blindness and glanced disrepair
the Little Prince at the time merely a frog awaiting the kiss
looked at the broken thorns presiding over crimson petals
of vulnerable hope shattered kindness lost evergreen shoots
I love you said the candy apple and plumed with the parakeet
24th October 2021
In my garden sits a large granite rock,
flecked with traces of quartz, mica, and spar.
A juggernaut, juxtaposed with shamrock,
and flowers of yellow and cinnabar.
Time and weather exposed its hidden faults,
riffled with colors of every hue.
And butterflies visit it for its salts;
today, I spied one of indigo blue.
It stood poised on that rock, with folded wing,
edged in gold filigree fit for a king.
Shadows lengthen across the garden floor,
as cooling breezes sweep the quiet air.
And the blue butterfly took flight once more,
leaving the silent giant waiting there.
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"
every March seventeenth, the glint froom
a perverted imp finds me achin'
and if aye dig deep enough,
this Goyish pseudo judo day yo criss chin
can figuratively unearth a puckish
(gnome like) elfish sprite
with a layer ring ga Erin
which byte size (key) ah man able troll
help pan for treasure hunters
plume bing the underworld
with his (aye farm lee bull eve
moost har male) sly grin
stirring thy faux set (head)
feigned Irish with in
new mutter nada trace,
(boot perhaps juiced an iota)
o' Brogue kin
Celtic gene found
within me genealogical tree,
an itty bitty min
newt chromosomal thread,
(which with assistance of Crispr)
i.e., a more discerning Quaker can pin
point how this predominantly
(decrepit ole coot)
Semitic baby boomer tub hoot
(whale hugging
ma gude look four leaf Shamrock)
can locate long buried loot
according to legend
(plus devout avid fervent
Irish Aunt Fib B. Hen
aka Sally Salamander Newt)
doth avail her excitement to help up root
(perhaps revisiting a previously dug oop ditch)
maybe treasure undetected
cuz ova technical,
and/or mechanical glitch
truth to the tantalizing myth
whar hike can hitch
my dreams to a morning star,
that would make a par man rich
and put an end
to mine fingers that hoo twitch
which i roan nick pie rite (of quartz)
alluding to healthy appetite,
sans tea zing alluring
(whet started as byte)
size nar invisible craving,
which fantasy easily didst excite
(necessitating yars true lee) to don robe of foo fight
tar, yet persistent and nagging lust didst light
lore (akin to un hearth thing
pot o' gold at rainbow's end),
cuz hum ma penniless plight
such dogged pursuit, a mirage,
whereat aye drool in plain sight
thus conk clue ding this
hip poe eponymous droning pome
though, tis plenti mo' hie hood write!
Form:
St Patrick’s Alphabet
A is America land of the free
B is for Beatles as Irish as me
C is the great Cliffs of Moher so pretty
D is for Dublin the capital city
E is for Eire – true name of my land
F is for Fionn and the Fianna his band
G is for Guinness a world-famous name
H is for Hurling a rather rough game
I is my Island and what it creates
J is for Joyce, Stephens, Swift and Jack Yeats
K is King Niall and the old kings at Tara
L is a leprechaun called MacNamara
M is for mise, me fein and me too
N is for Nuala, Naoimh, Nora and crew
O is O’Reilly O’Keefe and their worth
P - Patrick saint in the land of my birth
Q is for quiz, gob, cailin and the rest
R is the River Shannon in the west
S is for Shamrock a flower of three
T is Tramore, Tullamore and Tralee
U is U2 who are still going strong
V is from Ulster – he’s Van Morrison
W – whiskey a very strong drink
X is eXcuse me no word can I think
Y is for You when like me you agree,
Z ’s not in Ireland there no last can be
“Song for St Patrick 2022”
Find me a four-leaf clover she said
Find me a four-leaf clover
If you do
You’ll get Lucky she said
You’ll get Lucky
I’ll name it a shamrock she said
I’ll name it a shamrock
Find me a Leprechaun she said
Find me a Leprechaun
If you do
I’ll put him in a clasp and
Press him to my breast
I am very lonely and
Will love him very deeply
Find me a Leprechaun she said
Find me a Leprechaun
Please wear green today she said
Please wear green
If you do
I’ll be your queen
And never make a scene
I can get quite mean
If you don’t wear green
Please wear green today she said
Please wear green
Let’s drink some green today she said
Let’s drink some green
If you do
You’ll find much merriment in the brew
It will thrill you through and through
I’ll drive you home in a cab
When you no longer can stand
Let’s drink some green today she said
Let’s drink some green
Sing me a song she said
Sing me a song
Make it happy and gay
When foreplay is the game
If you do
I’ll sing along with you
And kiss you on the cheek
Sing me a song she said
Sing me a song
Come dance with me she said
Come dance with me
If you do
I’ll hold you tight
With all my might
And won’t let go
Until the morning light
Come dance with me she said
Come dance with me
Pinch me she said
Pinch me
If you do
There is no offence
Unless you pinch my behind
That would be mighty unkind
Pinch me she said
Pinch me
I want to know if it was you or me
Or the Leprechaun clasped to my breast
Who got lucky Today
Happy St. Patrick ’s Day
I recognize a tune from album of your songs
And listen intently to impressionist sounds
As you hop scotch from branch to branch
Like a child all excited, frolicking in playground
Peeking from behind shamrock green leaves
Singing of love in blossoms of dogwood tree,
As you tease a female, flapping your round wings
Showing off white patches, revealing breasts
Pointing curved beak to articulate a message
In verses of romance, courting your soul mate
Inviting her to celebrate the visions of spring.
A prolific singer, you mimic songs of blue jays,
Woof-woof of dogs, and croaks of hiding frogs,
Wailing screams of sirens on ambulance moving fast
And hasty beeping shrills of my alarm clock;
Reserving your very best for ardent mating calls
Choreographing dance-moves fit for wedding halls
As you seduce a female on youthful virgin date,
Aspiring to one more voice, one more etiquette
Adding to repertoire another song of desires
Pursuing next newness, next chase to happiness.
June 30, 2019
Placed 4th:Pick a title, volume 6, personification contest by Edward Ibeh
Title chosen--The Mockingbird
HM: Strand choice 3 contest by Brian Strand
The chartreuse pearls hung on the pregnant vine
as whispered jade of leaves in autumn breeze.
The necklaces of trellis did entwine
like clefs of absinthe notes in verdant keys.
Limes envied grapes reflecting fervent sun,
bright clusters for musicians then to splay
in shamrock fields with fables to be spun
of emeralds and pears in harvest play.
Cerulean spread 'cross effulgent sky
when came the time for plucking of the harp.
Lithe fingers did each picker then apply
and place with grace refrains upon the tarp.
In peridot the countryside rejoiced
while to reprise fruition gave a voice.
You who dwell in the gardens
with friends in attendance,
let me hear your voice!
Song of Songs 8:13 NIV
Young love, young love.
Her love longs to hear her -
her chirping in the garden,
the peak of harp-pluck
and see the flight
of purest shamrock eyes.
Her love’s jealous for
a whispering of cherubic lips.
*A find, this dove, this only daughter,
the favorite of the one who bore her.*
Her young prince, in ivory tower, thinks of her
from sunrise to sunset and forever
in his dreams.
She keeps a company of friends,
who delight in her white teeth,
her minty breath, her measured words.
They’re acquainted with
her grace, the smooth taste
of time and space…for him, oblivion.
Her love misses out, on chipper words,
so lovely-shaped, in rainbow-afternoons.
He longs for her all the time
but though she is his,
not all her time
is his.
5/13/2022
*Song of Songs scripture