Short Patricks Poems
Short Patricks Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Patricks by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Patricks by length and keyword.
I once drank some beer that was green
The weirdest that I’d ever seen
They said, “It’s that way
For St. Patricks day"
I then peed with green in my stream
This leprechaun Fastly appeared
And said, will you be mine, my dear
He showed me his gold
That little man was bold
So, I snatched it up and disappeared
If there was a competition for prettiest girl
Bonnie would probably win it, look at her curl!
Ginger curl laid on her forehead with a swirl.
St Paddy Day speaker gave his girl a quick twirl.
St Paddy’s day Guinea pig is loud singing again
The foam from his beer is dripping down from his chin
He seems to be a little inebriated, I think I dare say.
He gives me the wing and says “Happy St Paddy’s day!”
Hooray for Saint Patrick’s Day
Hooray, hooray for Saint Patrick’s Day
Hubby took steps unaided today
It may be only two
But at last a break through
A shamrock for luck, we’re on our way.
* * *
17th March 2022
We're jottin' down our poems, me boys
We're jottin' down our poem
From old Bombay to Galway Bay
We're jottin' down our poems
All wannabe Byrons just step aside
We're the best bards on land and foam, Aye!
We're jottin' dowm our poems, me boys
We're jottin' down our poems
Happy Saint Patrick’s day
Today, wear a bit of green!
Be you a man, or a fun Colleen!
This is the day we are all Irish!
Go ahead, have fun....and.....
Above all ......be outlandish!
Hugs,
Panagiota O’Toole
3-17-2022
7:25pm PST
To the luck of the Irish is what they say
For today we celebrate St. Patrick's Day
With little leprechauns running around
Their gold still hiding, waiting to be found
With four leaf clovers across a breast
Their myth of luck was put to the test
Then before our eyes
What should we behold?
But a leprechaun shouting,
"I found me gold!"
If you are going to frequent a pub today
Make it in Cork, though it be far away
Make it Murphy’s, for it is St. Paddy’s day
And while you are there, you had better pray.
The Irish are wild, never dull or gray.
They always talk blarney, want to have the last say.
If you want me to come, I will be there said Jay
I love Irish pubs, there is plenty of play!
I thought it was just a myth
About following a rainbow
It was said, that at the end
Of each rainbow is a pot of gold
So, I followed one to the end an
Standing there was a leprechaun
With a pipe in his mouth and
Holding a golden staff
I said to him, where’s me gold
Suddenly, a pot fill with
Gold appeared and boy
Did I have a hard time
Getting it home!
Upon walking I saw
The cutest lil thing
A dressed-up leprechaun
Carrying a shillelagh stick
With a long pipe in his mouth
And circles coming from his ears
It looked like rings of fire
Oh dear, oh dear, it was
Coming from his extra-long beard
As he strutted along, not a care
In the world, he starts to spin as
He twirls and twirls, unleashing
A strange glare
St Paddy’s day elf had a secret pal
He wished it would have been his cousin Al.
It was actually a bunny, which was kind of weird.
For when he thought of the rodent, it appeared.
You must be magic, he said, leprechaun-like, right?
The bunny held on to his leg, and he held on tight.
It was difficult to sneak a gift to the little guy.
He shows up day and night the elf said with a sigh.
Erin’s face looks like a map of Ireland, I was told.
She had ginger hair with slivers of dashing gold.
Her eyes were as green as the Emerald Isle.
And she lit up Dublin with her darling smile.
Many chased her in a merry happy fun-loving way.
She was gorgeous, funny, and always gay.
Her famous corn beef and cabbage was the best around.
Her tasty shepherd’s pie was devoured to the ground.
Shamrock twins argued about this and that
They argued as to if a dog was a hog
Or a cat was a bat
On Halloween they were disagreeable to a masterful degree
They put spells on each other’s jack-o-lanterns
They put spiders in each other’s tea
Their favorite holiday was St. Patrick’s Day
with green mint shakes and pistachio cakes
They argued about this and that
But never about the sanctity of St. Pat
Click A micka Click a micka slap slap slap
Coletta was clicking out a jig after her nap
She is up on a chair! Her grandma said with alarm.
She is pure Irish, her daddy argued, full of charm.
Click A micka Click a micka slap slide, slide.
Coletta’s moves were more than grandma could abide.
She returned home, fearing the baby would fall off the chair.
She did not of course, for St. Paddy’s Day was in the air.
I met him in a forest deep in the black forest woods.
Unassuming and silent, he stood as a leprechaun should.
Sparkles in his eye reminded me of the gold I had seen.
Just last night in my reoccurring Irish loving dream.
I said hello and he gave me a slight nod of his head.
I wondered if he was a phantom, alive or dead.
Twinkles in his eyes made me scurry promptly away.
Imagine running into a leprechaun on St. Paddy’s day!
I am dancing with St. Pat the little Dublin girl sang out
Click click click clack her feet clicked over and about.
She was doing a jig, with no training whatsoever.
The rain had stopped, it was turning to good weather.
Click click click the shoes sang out, against the floor.
“Erin go braugh!” yelled out the eejit next door.
“Ireland forever!” I yelled back, being neighborly.
The tiny Irish dancer continued jigging it with glee.
the deepest secret between us
was the gift
the rosary
you bought for me
that dreary manhattan february morning
in St. Patricks cathedral,
you came running to the coffee shop
where i waited,
cramming for a math final
and handed me the red heart shaped satin box
when I opened it and saw Jesus and the beads,
they could have been arrows
hitting my heart like cupid was aiming bulls eye,
to be carried forever
my first valentine.
While the brisket was slow cooking we went to the pub
Their brisket was already done, that was the rub.
I said to my woman, can I have a bit of this grub?
That was my biggest mistake, it was a giant flub.
Although she said yes, she was pouting in a bit.
I recognized the sign of her bad side, she can be a chit.
grabbed the biggest beer I could find, and she threw a fit.
Knew now that the rest of my night was going to be full of grit.
The Irish soda bread baking
All the people are waking
Preparing for the big day
You better get out of the way
Cause the leprechaun’s are about
Their mischief might make you shout
Everyone is wearing the green
The town square is a great scene
With Irish flags and the shamrock
And a great bong from the town clock
Announcing the grand parade
With Irish music being played
Everyone shouts hooray
And agrees it was a great day
Happy St. Froggy’s Day! The space traveler said.
I looked up and stopped eating my Irish soda bread.
It’s St. Froggy’s day, right? The alien said confidently.
That’s when I knew he had not learned enough from his TV.
It’s St. Paddy’s day, not St. Froggy’s day, I said, grabbing a beer.
He walked over, trying to fit in, and sat down, uncomfortably near.
Trying to pretend he was from this planet, but I knew he was not.
Or else he was an eejit; I turned away from the misinformed snot.
heading to Blarney Castel to get me some....
Cork, Ireland, here I come!
To give the Blarney Stone a kiss,
means I will be a more persuasive miss
I can hardly contain my joy, with my new blips
new flattery will gently flow from my lips.
I have always wanted the gift of gab.
It’ll be the best day when I meet the slab.
Blarney Castle, get ready to pucker up.
I am ready to change my luck and my cup.
Hold me upside down, let me give you a kiss.
I am going to Cork, hope I won't miss!