Tin Whistle Poems - Poems about Tin Whistle

...the whole world is happening at the same time every conversation, every bird call, every lion roar every everything bunched up to oneness in my head I carry the white noise of distance wherever I ......

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...Being part Irish I have to admit that yes indeed, I celebrate it. If truly the Irish are lucky you see, I’ll have my green beer and sandwich of brie. I’ll dress in me greens with a b......

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...The Celtic Cross at Île 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 w......

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...Home is where . . . The heart and reason mould into one and the same mirror of harmony . . . the Golden Mean and centre of gravity as long as life’s turns spin around . . . where dents in t......

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...The time spent thinking up these rhymes, could be put to better use. I could learn a language, or DIY the house. Maybe learn to fly a plane, or sail across the sea, or walk across the Gobi, and d......

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...COMING HOME I came home at last across the seas To my home country in South Dublin, And stood soaking up the refreshing Irish mist, Allowing the Manchester smoke to wash out of my lungs. ......

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...Grandfather played the tin whistle with Paddy on his knee for his grandson he played songs of Ireland songs that will live on on Paddy’s tenth birthday Grandfather gave him his own to play ......

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...A bee met an antelope. Rescued it with a spear. It did. That was sheer bravery to face such horn. When patterns of wings grow dim it is wise to fly around erratically thus eradicating the stench from......

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...so much colour wrapped in one tune plays enchanting music upon a tin whistle dancing upon ripples whistling pipes played within the ocean a boat sailing calm waters coming ashore out of the shadow......

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...The hinge squeaked when I entered. I found the string to click the light. I knew where it was even in the dark, even after so many years. This shop takes me back to days with my grandfather......

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...Waking, realizing dawn was past Hearing a background noise Some what like a wet tin whistle Child blown in a futile attempt at a note “What kind of bird is that?” “A red winged blackbird” She ......

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