Sweet Erin

Sweet Erin, how I ache to walk
Along your shores again.
To smell the peat and meadows sweet
To ease my inner pain.
I smell the new mown hay
In minds that pass me by so close.
I bow my head in anguish,
For I needs must turn you loose.
I ache with inner torment
For the crystal waters clear.
The pull of your sweet shores
The purple mountains drawing near.
The Liffy running Dublin town,
The bustle, banter, colour,
Then moving outward to the sound
Of silence like no other.

poem by Rosi Caswell
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Personality

Some aspire to have it.
Many do,
With charisma too.
Others claim to fame,
Is making attempts...
To establish names,
For themselves.
And they will do that,
In a heartbeat.
No matter who is plagiarized.
They will find a way to steal,
A personality.
The origin of it may not fit.
But for them,
At least they can convince
What has been obtained,
Sticks!
As long as the glue holds.
While traveling either from Dublin...
Or to Chicago!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cantankerous Celts

Wild and reckless they were indeed
in defense of their heartland

redcoats and the black and tans
ruffians and thugs in uniform
firing on crowds of civilians
in Dublin, September 1913

50,000 ATTEND FUNERAL OF WORKERS
KILLED BY TROOPS

Tribalism of cantankerous Celts
tends to run bloody in the streets

Today's Celts include Serbs, Scots
and Basques fighting for freedom
Headlines shout of strife and mayhem
in the Middle East

Yanks liberated Europe

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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The Sleeping Beauty

“Call that a yarn!” said old Tom Pugh,
“What rot! I’ll lay my hat
I’ll sling you a yarn worth more nor two
Such pumped-up yarns as that.”
And thereupon old Tommy “slew”
A yarn of Lambing Flat.

“When Lambing Flat broke out,” he said,
“’Mongst others there I knew
A lanky, orkard, Lunnon-bred
Young chap named Johnny Drew,
And nicknamed for his love of bed,
The ‘Sleeping Beauty’ too.

“He sunk a duffer on the Flat,
In comp’ny with three more,
And makin’ room for this and that
They was a tidy four,
Save when the eldest, Dublin Pat,
Got drunk and raved for gore.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Fringe flower

Small fragile
as if a piece of
bone china with a
creamy sheen landed
on cobblestones of
a Dublin street

she walked there those
uneven stones
beneath her feet
pasty hand clasped
secure in his grip
her eyes protruded
to try to touch
lifeless buildings
carriages horses
cobblestones below
life seemed slow

but then that grip

[...] Read more

poem by Walter Durk
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St. Patrick's day

Make sure you wear a touch of green,
For where there is 40 shades seen,
Be sure to have a shamrock on,
And honour the national icon,
Praise the patron saint of Ireland,
Make the most of the events planned,
Parades that began in Dublin,
Spread further than you'd imagine,
A brief break from observing lent,
And fasting in which days are spent,
Enjoy that from which you refrain,
For one day no longer abstain,
The air fills with cheer and singing,
Streets fill up with crowds and dancing,
Minds full of care will soon have none,
Once celebrations have begun.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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Twilight In A Tea Cup! ! ! !

When we first met;
Our friends squatted for tea in a newly painted eatery,
Growing weightless with Joyce, Sartre, Pyncheon & Proust,
Mugs &Mughals collided, intellectual dislocation sanitized,
Like on a conveyor belt, revolved on the metaphysical rifts
in the philosophical firmament,
When the hour of the wolf dawned & the howling began,
Illuminating discussion we handed it down like vermiform appendix.
Evening exchanged junk food for soul food amidst the aroma of tea.

Our tea dabbed in colors like a heterodox, reflected twilight in evening mist,
Plotting her teasing gold’s miserly, ethereally hem lined trees
Dallied with darkness, like a damsel in mock protest,
Gold rims of tea cup stalled heuristic breeze
Casting a ruse, scurried in high octave to test.

On tea surface -clouds floated with an orange-tipped smile,
blurring distances in dimensions, devout shadows asserted fidelity;
Cuckoo strains corseted us, stars dropped splashless
throwing their histrionics in purple velvet

[...] Read more

poem by Seema joglekar
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Aliyah

Follow your mind and your dreams,
But technology changes everything;
And i am like the prisoner of love inside you.

I am the brave warrior on your love and,
The accumulation of your sincere love matters to me;
For you and i belong to each other.

A fascinating visit ona fascinating tour!
Temporized by the status of the realms;
And i promised to be your best friend.

I am doubling my imaginations like Dublin,
But i have the zeal to meet your heart;
And i promised to be your best lover.

Take it or leave it,
For you can't jump over the truth!
Because we are in love and,
I know the muse of your heart my sweet Aliyah.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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the Droplet

I am but one droplet in the stream,

carried along by gravity,

which snakes toward the River Liffey

which then empties into the sea.

One droplet, chemically the same

as all my brothers in the tide.

Yet unique, I am myself.

distinct from others by my side.

What a crazy ride it’s been

over rocks and through the woods

[...] Read more

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Michael Furey

That night was cold,
The wind was biting.
All over Ireland
the snow was falling

"I was packing
my trousseau,
To Dublin town
I was to go."
"I heard a pebble
strike my pane.
A moment passed,
then, there, again."
"I looked out
On the snow filled lane.
That's when I saw him,
Saw my Michael.
His pale face raised
toward my light.
Like an angel

[...] Read more

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Quaternion

Fix belt tip under books on table top
While holding buckle level, step away
Rotate the buckle once; two pi nonstop
A twist results which looping won't unplay.
Restart and rotate buckle four times pi
And now by looping belt round buckle end
The twists are cleared, exhibiting to eye
Zen essence of rotation; comprehend?
Never mind.

October sixteenth, eighteen forty-three,
beside the Royal Canal of Dublin town,
Will Hamilton glimpsed spatial clarity,
as view from fourth dimension looking down.
For multiplying triples, fly one higher,
by summing in a more capacious zone,
‘A circuit closed and spark flashed' to inspire
famed maths graffiti carved in Broome Bridge stone.
i^=j^=k^= ijk = -1

poem by Diane Hine
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Across the Universe (Life Poem)

1,000 miles from the Merry Christmas muzak in Port Moresby
Fat Brisbane taxi philosopher’s poor mouth moaning season
Navan road Sydney AMEX girl pining for the cold in Dublin
Along with traditional stuffing of turkey ham and trimmings.

10,000 miles to London via sticky Bangkok “Merry Clistmas”
And cattle class envy of First class lounge showers mid-flight
But Jetlag is the same nightmare at both ends of the plane
As we fly across the universe to be home for Christmas.

1,000,000 people flying to their friends and families
Do all those sad, glad, bad, mad once-a-year reunions
Make it to Happy New Year without killing each other
Resolving to be prosperous, viceless and happy again?

poem by Ian Beckett
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Irish Legacy

Sweet Erin I will walk your shores
In mind and body too.
Connemara's rugged grandeur
Killarney's lakes so blue.
Harsh beauty and the silence
Of Wicklow's haunting scene.
The lushness of Meath's meadows
And their forty shades of green.
The mystic seas and rivers,
And Dublin's Liffy blue.
Dear Erin I'm your daughter,
There's nowhere for me but you.
So in shadow and in laughter
My thoughts turn evergreen,
For I am far, but yet not so.
Your child, your wee spalpeen.
You draw me to the Emerald Isle.
My soul yearns just to ride,
Along the bay of Galway
With freedom by my side.

[...] Read more

poem by Rosi Caswell
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Mangan

Arguably the greatest poet old Ireland has seen
'Twas he penned the poem known as 'Dark Rosaleen'
In eighteen forty nine in his mid forties in poverty he died
Though true genius of him never can be denied
The great James Clarence Mangan Ireland's National bard
His journey through life was to say the least hard
He lived as he died in abject poverty
Yet one could not name many poets as great as he
From consumption and poor diet and neglect he died very young
For him no State funeral and he was unsung
Despite his hard life it seems a remarkable feat
That so many great poems the great poet did bequeath
To Ireland and it's people though he died just past his prime
As one of the poor souls of the Dublin of his time.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Alan (Life Poem)

I have Uptown Girl on my DVD,
And Friends on the floor,
I am moving to the music,
And rocking to the beat.

I have training centre every day,
And I am working very hard,
I know that I am growing up,
Everyone tells me so.

I am at Bayside Gym each week,
And have won a lot of medals,
I got them at gymnastics events,
In Dublin, Belfast and Milan.

I go to movies every Saturday,
And eat in Eddie Rocket’s,
I like my dad to come along,
And share my coke and popcorn.

[...] Read more

poem by Ian Beckett
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Dancing Dervish

You shine like a Moonbeam,
Bringing your day into my night,
Been lost in a storm waiting for your Light,
Where have you been all my life?

In darker days you were but a dream,
A glimmer of light unseen,
I need your love... love,
You know what I mean?

Your love comes from within,
Swirling all around me, drowning me,
You are the Light, you are my life,
Why do we have this strife?

From Durban to Dublin I seek,
You are always just out of reach,
Why my love is it so hard,
To keep you around?

[...] Read more

poem by David Andre' Klopper
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At Currabwee

Every night at Currabwee
Little men with leather hats
Mend the boots of Faery
From the tough wings of the bats.
So my mother told to me,
And she is wise you will agree. .

Louder than a cricket's wing
All night long their hammer's glee
Times the merry songs they sing
Of Ireland glorious and free.
So I heard Joseph Plunkett say,
You know he heard them but last May.

And when the night is very cold
They warm their hands against the light
Of stars that make the waters gold
Where they are labouring all the night.
So Pearse said, and he knew the truth,

[...] Read more

poem by Francis Ledwidge
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Peggy O Deere

Sad am I so sad to hear
About the death of Mary O's daughter Peggy O Deere
From her old Hometown many miles away
Her remains in Dublin lay.

I knew her since I was a Primary school going boy
She was five or six years older than I
She was one I used to meet
On the road west of Millstreet.

Cycling to and from the Millstreet convent years ago
She always smiled and said hello,
Always in a happy mood
Never knew her to be sour or rude.

A beautiful teenager with shoulder length dark hair
Always happy and free of care
In my memory she did not age or gray
And I still see her as young today

[...] Read more

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Signalman

I see him as the signalman
On the unseen tracks of time
A family priest for all of us-
As we travel down the line.

Railway stations made him blue
When he was young and leaving home-
I wonder if it was his Signalman
That for so long kept him going? .

He taught the boys of Wexford
By the Barrow in New Ross
And at a later time the Déise lads
In Dungarvan’s lovely town;
A chaplin in Dublin's Liberties
Now in Limerick nearer home;
The road that led to his priesthood
Had earlier started off in Rome.

In his vestments with a bell of brass

[...] Read more

poem by Matt Mooney
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On Second Thought

Pants hanging down…
Not because of H. Rap. Brown…
But of an inner frown…
I drown…
I should be leader…
Not a clown…
It's not the color of my skin…
That holds me back…
But those pants hanging pass my crack…
I can't seem to get my composure…Back…
Yakkdy-yak Yakked-yak talking slick…
And grandma don't go for that…
I'm thinking the grass is greener on the other-side….
Because on this side my pride and respect I hide…
Fad's are my only ride…
With them I do glide…
You name'em…I claim'em…
On Second Thought…
Who am I really…
Pants hanging, talking silly…

[...] Read more

poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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