Saints in Heaven Seamus O'Malley
What have you done to your gal Sally
And as the Irish say
Twas no luck on that day
He left her gin-soaked down an alley
Their next time out, he done it again
In Irish eyes, that's a mortal sin
This is our pub Seamus
So don't try to blame us
Cuz we won't be letting you back in
Then up popped the brother of Sally
You left my sister in an alley?
With revenge in his eyes
His sheleighly did rise
Say goodnight to Seamus O'Malley
Categories:
seamus, humorous,
Form: Limerick
The leprechaun trap wasn’t empty;
A toy leprechaun nestled inside
With a nice thank you note
That the leprechaun wrote,
So my granddaughter took it in stride.
If she’d caught one, she wanted some wishes,
Like a carousel built in her room
Or to meet Taylor Swift
Or a baby sis gift,
None of which she could get, I’d assume.
Her big brother, who once would have joined her,
Now knows Daddy left Seamus* behind;
He confirmed, with a wink.
Childhood ends in a blink,
With these memories etched in the mind.
*the toy leprechaun’s name, according to the note
Categories:
seamus, granddaughter, imagination,
Form: Rhyme
Ulster poet Seamus Heaney
ever a favourite with me
In which nostalgic childhood shines through
to become a Nobel winner too
Categories:
seamus, people, poetry,
Form: Clerihew
Said Seamus to his wife, with a wink
Since I cannae go out for a drink
I'm sure me and you
Can find something to do
Let me hug you, while both of us think
Categories:
seamus, home, ireland, marriage, romance,
Form: Limerick
envision
images of
jesus but when
speaking every
other word
is F&#@
(Enjoy retirement Dooley)
Categories:
seamus, muse,
Form: I do not know?
Off, Seamus marched with a swagger,
Yet, soon, he slowed, that sly lagger.
Then, not very far,
He snuck to a bar:
By noon, his march was a stagger.
March 17, 2017
Luck of the Irish Limerick Contest
Kim Merryman, Sponsor
Categories:
seamus, humor,
Form: Limerick
He keeps himself confined,
to bluster now, and remonstrate
the struggle being more than he can bear.
Pieces of him pulverized, fashioned from
the sweat of his own making to a glimpse
of the immortal, just a glimpse, but not
the crowning glory.
So many vestiges, heros in the making,
but a careless chip, an errant slice,
consigns them to the beggars pile,
without that patina of agelessness.
Never ready, never groomed to wear
that sacred halo on his head,
the crowning glory.
Once in a while a piece emerges,
bursting from the cold, defiant marble,
his fingers work, so resolute,
to fabricate this work of art,
fingers, limbs and face in perfect symmetry,
they become eternal,his reward a wreath,
the crowning glory!
Author's Note
...inspired by the poetry of Seamus Heaney.
Categories:
seamus, writing,
Form: Verse
There once was a farmer called Seamus,
who had an incompetant anus.
When out on a date with girlfriend Kate,
he blamed his dog when he farted,
to prevent her being startled.
Categories:
seamus, dog, girlfriend, humorous,
Form: Limerick
...inspired by 'Goodnight' by Seamus Heaney
From dark to black they staggered,
felt for familiar surfaces,
they groped, until the lantern flickered,
faint glow resurrecting shadows.
Cold and flaggy, floors uneven,
up and down they skittered
like two drunkards on a binge,
finding legs, orientation.
Gaslight blue-flamed 'neath the kettle,
blanket grabbed, the bed was ransacked,
tea was swallowed gratefully,
with a pinch the lamp gave up the ghost.
From dark to black, not even starlight
gave relief to weathered eyes,
huddled 'neath the self-same blanket,
wide-mouthed yawns and muffled sighs.
Categories:
seamus, writing,
Form: Quatrain
...inspired by 'Fireside' by Seamus Heaney
Flashlight tracings trap and dazzle,
dancing in the twilight. Children hurry
through the meadow, flip-flops flapping,
eager beavers chasing dreams.
Quick the flow, the stream blinks
back a hint of moonlight,
and the torches' criss cross
patterns scatter 'til the beams converge.
Nets are plied, and mason jars
are dunked beneath the rippling surface,
small fish wriggle in confinement
midst excitement and delight.
Safe and snug, imaginations settle,
tucked in as they say goodnight.
Categories:
seamus, kids,
Form: Verse
...inspired by 'Goodnight' by Seamus Heaney
From dark to black they staggered,
felt for familiar surfaces,
they groped until the lantern flickered,
faint glow resurrecting shadows.
Cold and flaggy floors uneven,
up and down they skittered
like two drunkards on a binge,
finding legs and sturdiness.
Gaslight blue-flamed 'neath the kettle,
blanket grabbed, the bed was ransacked,
tea was swallowed gratefully,
with a twist the lamp gave up the ghost.
From light to black, not even starlight
gave relief to weathered eyes,
huddled 'neath the self-same blanket,
wide-mouthed yawns and muffled sighs.
Categories:
seamus, writing,
Form: Quatrain
...inspired by 'The Railway Children' by Seamus Heaney
Memories as sharp as diamonds,
keen as knives, the smell of
train smoke burns my nostrils still.
Chilly mornings, misty, magic,
gleaming rails so full of promise,
lumbering Leviathans,
wheezing, roaring, bound for Scotland
or the local seaside towns,
holiday makers reveling.
Dewdrops glisten, hush and listen
for the storied 8:09,
ready with our pens and journals.
Now steam and smoke are long forgotten,
flashing wheels and majesty,
except for old men who once were young
with memories as sharp as diamonds.
Categories:
seamus, adventure, children,
Form: Verse
He keeps himself confined,
to bluster now, and remonstrate
the struggle being more than he can bear.
Pieces of him pulverized, fashioned from
the sweat of his own making to a glimpse
of the immortal, just a glimpse, but not
the crowning glory.
So many vestiges, heros in the making,
but a careless chip, an errant slice,
consigns them to the beggars pile,
without that patina of agelessness.
Never ready, never groomed to wear
that sacred halo on his head,
the crowning glory.
Once in a while a piece emerges,
bursting from the cold, defiant marble,
his fingers work, so resolute,
to fabricate this work of art,
fingers, limbs and face in perfect symmetry,
they become eternal,his reward a wreath,
the crowning glory!
Last Modified: July 18, 2015 at 09:05 am
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...inspired by the poetry of Seamus Heaney.
Categories:
seamus, art,
Form: Verse
...inspired by 'An Artist' by Seamus Heaney
He keeps himself confined,
to bluster now, and remonstrate
the struggle being more than he can bear.
Pieces of him pulverized, fashioned from
the sweat of his own making to a glimpse
of the immortal, just a glimpse, but not
the crowning glory.
So many vestiges, heroes in the making,
but a careless chip, an errant slice,
consigns them to the beggars pile,
without that patina of agelessness.
Never ready, never groomed to wear
that sacred halo on their heads,
the crowning glory.
Once in a while a piece emerges,
bursting from the cold, defiant marble.
His fingers can't work fast enough
to realize this masterpiece,
fingers, limbs and face
in perfect form become eternal,
the promise of a wreath, the crowning glory.
Categories:
seamus, tribute, writing,
Form: Verse
...inspired by 'Goodnight' by Seamus Heaney
From dark to black they staggered,
felt for familiar surfaces,
they groped, until the lantern flickered,
faint glow resurrecting shadows.
Cold and flaggy, floors uneven,
up and down they skittered
like two drunkards on a binge,
finding legs, orientation.
Gaslight blue-flamed 'neath the kettle,
blanket grabbed, the bed was ransacked,
tea was swallowed gratefully,
with a pinch the lamp gave up the ghost.
From light to black, not even starlight
gave relief to weathered eyes,
huddled 'neath the self-same blanket,
wide-mouthed yawns and muffled sighs.
Categories:
seamus, tribute, writing,
Form: Quatrain
Related Poems