Okay, this month, (as if you haven't guessed) the subject for the "challenge" is
St. Patrick's Day .
But, along with your submission on the subject, I'd like you to send your favorite 
"Irish Wisdom" . 

Remember, poets retain their copyright on their submitted material, so PLEASE, ask before 
you take a copy .... and if you like their work....tell them so, their e-mail is linked to their name.

 

What's Turning Everything Green by Anna Mae Wittig	St. Patrick's Day is Nigh by Shelby Forrest
Ireland  by Barbara Lipski	The Story of Rory  by Tom Stonham
Of the Green  by Sheila Panzone	Our Moment  by L.B. Strawn
At the Celtic Festival  by Rick Van Weenen	Wearin' of the Green Terese Akins Anthony
Look Out For the Irish They're On Their Way  by Shelby Forrest	There's Nothin' Like the Irish by Gerry Rothery
Ireland Forever by Mary A. Sullivan Struzik	Emerald Isle  by Barbara Martin
'Tis a Wee Bit O' Irish by Beverly Sandy	The Irish Question  by Thomas Vaughn Jones
An Irish Jig  by Thomas Vaughn Jones

 

I'd have to say, one of my favorite Irish sayings is:  May you be in Heaven an hour before  the devil knows you're dead !

What's turning everything green? 

I walked in the woods one foggy March day,
And what do you think I did see? 
   A little green man no more than two feet, 
 Sittin' there, starin' at me! 

    He had a tall hat, with a shamrock on top, 
      And he jumped when I started to talk, 
       He bid me good day, started running away, 
    Much faster than my feet could walk. 

          I asked him to wait, for I meant him no harm, 
      And He paused just a moment to say, 
 I'm sure that you've heard, 
if you catch me, my gold, 
   Will be yours on this Saint Patrick's Day. 

 I told him I had, but I learned long ago, 
 You appreciate more, what you've earned. 
  And I'd much rather have him here as a friend, 
Then he stopped on a dime and returned. 

 He said all his life, people chased him about,... 
For his gold was worth much, they were told. 
    But the words that had just come out of my mouth, 
Could stop a Leprechaun cold. 

For tis true that a friend, is worth more than gold, 
And he wished that more people had seen. 
     That it wasn't St. Patrick's Day, shamrocks or elves, 
.....but their envy 
        That turned them all green.

 

Here is my bit of Irish wisdom... "May you live as long as you want  and never want as long as you live."

Saint Patrick's Day is Nigh

To the home of the Irish I would like to return
I would like to go back there again
How would I return or how could I go back
To a land where I never have been?

So I will  start counting the days up in March
I will stop when I reach seventeen
That day is well known here as Saint Patrick's Day
All the people turn out wearing green

There's corned beef and cabbage and green bottled beer
(In the South, even green are the grits)
Green  candy, green bagels,even green eggs and ham
(If Dr. Seuss gives them permits)

So I will not plan, then, in Ireland to be
All the people have come over here
There's Murphy, O'reilly, McGinnis, McGee
(And the Leprechans, too, will appear)
-- 

 Ireland

Surrounded by roaring seas of gold, protected by the cliffs of Mohr,
Filled with valleys of rich green land, this place created by Gods hand.

Oh Ireland I belong to your story,let me reach into your magnificent  glory.
Legends born from Erens home, gallant clans of O'Connor and O'More's.

Great tragedy you have known, from potato famines to Henry V111's scorn.
Ulster wars, Sinn Fein, reminders of a legacy carried from way back then.

Irish lore of dance and song, of Killkenny Castle and County Dublin,
Children of Lir, Gaelic Lor, Magilligan Point and Kerry Rainbow.

Stolen from English shores St. Patrick became yours. We salute with Green 
beer, and wink at a Leprechauns good cheer, to celebrate the heroics of 
Ireland and all they hold dear.

Tom's Bits o' Wisdom As you slide down the banister of life,  may the splinters never point the wrong way.  ************************ Bless you and yours as well as the cottage you live in. May the roof overhead be well thatched and those inside be well matched.  *************************** For each petal on the shamrock this brings a wish your way. Good health, good luck, and happiness for today and every day.  ************************* Grant me a sense of humour, Lord, the saving grace to see a joke, to win some happiness from life  and pass it on to other folk.

The Story Of Rory

Me Mither said “Rory, son, Rory McHale,
you’re headin’ for Hell ... you could well land in jail.
Stop flirtin', stop fightin’ ... get married ‘n’ pray.
You’re 60 years old, son.” ... Then Mum passed away.

I slowed up some over the next 30 years.
No fightin’, no flirtin’, old friends, a few beers.
The day I turned 90 I jest sorta sighed,
I felt my life fade so I laid down ‘n’ died.

I didn’t feel diff’rent from bein’ alive,
me toes ‘n’ me fingers ... five, five, five ‘n’ five ...
I felt young ‘n’ strong ‘n’ that’s wrong if you’re dead -
I stood up 'n' saw me still there on my bed.

A great Golden Staircase stretched clear to the sky,
to Heaven where good people go when they die.
While waitin’ for Sinners like me when they croak,
a horrible hole belchin’ ugly black smoke!

I didn’t look twice at that staircase of gold,
I took a deep breath ‘n’ dived straight down that hole -
I ain’t one to cry about IF’s, WHY’s ‘n’ BUTs ...
I’d lost me old belly ... I’d keep me old guts.

I got to the bottom ‘n’ there was Ol’ Nick,
surprised I was ready for roastin’ so quick.
He said, “Man, I’ve gotcha!, you’re sure gonna cook!
Jest wait ‘til I check you in this great big book”.

He asked me me name, I said, “Rory McHale”.
Big asbestos pages he turned, with his tail ...
“MacDonald, MacPherson, Mac Gregor, MacPhee,
MacGlusky, Mac Lauchlan, MacKenzie, MacNee”.

“I’m DAMNED” snarled ol’ Satan, ‘n’ slammed down the book.
“McHale’s not listed, man, you’re off the hook ...
Not English, not Scottish, not Welsh ... dear, oh, dear ...
You’re Irish! Pure Irish! Get to Hell outa here !!”

A great golden staircase stretched clear to the sky.
I laughed at the Devil ‘n’ waved him Goodbye.
I climbed up, up, up, ‘til I reached Kingdom Come ...
‘n’ who stood there smilin ? Me Old Irish Mum!

 
 

Sheila's Bit o' Wisdom May your heart be light,  and your wallet heavy.  May the tax man  cease to levy.  ********************  May those at odds  find common ground.  To our promises  may we all be bound.

Pretty lasses hold handfuls of clover; 
velvety and green 

The Blarney Stone, the temper; 
the castles and the brew 

Irishmen in tweeded plaid; 
blaring Celtic highland tunes 

From Limerick to Dublin; 
beasts strain to pull their carts 

Past cottages of thatch and rock; 
toward journey's end: the market 

What makes these Gaelic folk so rich; 
in earth's abundant treasures 

Perhaps a hearty laugh will do; 
to please the Irish pleasure! 

 

Wisdom of L.B.  My ancestors came from Scotland about 1680. Therefore I'm anything but Irish----so mewords of wisdom would be "To all ye Irishmen, niver trust a Scotsman" Yuk, yuk, yuk! (Ye must say it in the Scotish brogue.)

Our Moment

 We walked for a moment together,
A brief span from the years of my life.
I loved her as IRISH love Heather,
And wanted her for my wife.

        She was sweet as perfume from a flower,
        Her beauty as a dew sparkling rose,
        As fresh as a brief April shower,
        But, our moment came to a close.

So saddened was I at her death.
How brief were the years of her life;
As short as a gasping breath---
She would never become my wife.

        I'll never find, though I try,
        Another as radiant as she,
        Who stood on a pedestal, high,
        For all, her beauty, to see.

Though years have passed since that time
Her mem'ry is fresh as a rose.
The love which we shared was sublime
Till our moment came to a close.
 

At the Celtic Festival

All as one, they’ve gathered 
To celebrate this day
To dance each dance for freedom
To bless their kin who lay 

Holy, hard breed people 
Defiant of decree 
All thankful for the home they’ve made
All happy to be free

All showing way of being
Each, giving us a show
Of how their people party
Of how traditions go

And we, we all stand witness 
We share their tales and way
We join the Irish culture
And all enjoy their day
 
 

And here's my bit of Irish Wisdom "May God keep you in the hollow of his hand"

Wearing of the Green

Look Out for the Irish, They're on the Way

They're looking for parties where whisky is plenty
There's one going on at the house of McGinty
There's others at Reilly's, O'Toole and McBean's
Such fun and festivities, like you've never seen.

Then over at Murphy's, the tone became louder
Someone had thrown overalls into the chowder.
Let us go to O'Leary's; They're expecting us now
But avoid the old barn, and beware of the cow.

Flannigan and Dugan  had argued all night
No one was at fault; they just loved a good fight.
Then McGinnis and Morgan jumped into the fray
A good way to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day.

 

Wisdom-- Better than the gold of kings are memories of happy things.

There's Nothin' Like the Irish

 

Irish Words of Wisdom:  "A swelled head may be your passion ...  Alas!  You can't eat satisfaction!"

Ireland Forever

'Tis not just Corne Beef and Cabbage 
or Guiness Beer
It's not just the fiddle 
or the pub crowd! 
'Tis the courage 
locked in the heart of ye .. 
The Determination to survive 
To push on against the Odds 
It's really "getting it" 
When they don't have clue! 
IRELAND FOREVER

'Tis not just those old Irish songs, 
or the soda bread 
It's not just the Brogue 
or the cup of tea!
'Tis.............
The Ireland rooted in the old and new sod! 

The Ireland that lives! 
The Ireland  that thrives!
The Ireland that takes the risk! 
The Ireland that believes! 
The Ireland that sees beyond today
and dares to dream the impossible
Tis ......
The Ireland that will 
one day be united and free! 
IRELAND FOREVER!


A Trip to the Emerald Isle

I believe in the Blarney stone, is that so wrong? The "Irish Rovers",
sing a great  song. 

I believe in those wee folk called Leprechauns, too 
One just never knows what "believin' can do: 

Those wee lil-guys , mischievious they are; 
May be a'findin' ; some "gold", from afar; 

Just what would you do, with GOLD ye may ask? 
Why, i'd buy me a Genie, to do all my tasks; 

The time that would save me; Begorra!!.. how fine; 
Time to seek out some new "pals", while being online; 

Coz, one never has, one too many a friend; 
I'd tell them ."i'm Irish", their ear I would bend; 

I'd fill them all up, with some Blarney and then;  I'd start a'lookin',
for many more friends.!!

 

Be so good that God and everyone else will make room for ye!

THE  IRISH QUESTION 

I've never been to Mayo, 
or laid eyes on Galway Bay, 
And I've never set a foot in Donegal, 
But my mind's eye sees the mountains 
on a mist enshrouded day, 
And I hear that quiet, insistent Gaelic call. 

Are there really magic rainbows, 
hiding pots of fairy gold ? 
Is the leprechaun still lurking there unseen ? 
Are there mighty Irish poets full of stories to be told ? 
Does the shamrock grow 
in forty shades of green ? 

All these questions without answers 
help to keep my mind aglow, 
And my spirit soars in primal ecstasy. 
When I'm searching for my Heaven, 
then the nearest thing I know, 
Is that special place set in the Irish Sea. 

AN IRISH JIG 

Flynn O'Finnigan, the leprechaun, is thumping on his drum 
And his pounding has this prehistoric beat 
It will pluck and pull your heartstrings till your brain is cold and numb 
But that still won't stop the dancing in your feet 

Then there's twenty fairy fiddlers, their music loud and shrill 
With a sound that sets your very soul on fire 
They will keep your arteries racing, and your fingers can't sit still 
As the volume and the tempo climb up higher 

Now the elves begin to harmonise with magic silver flutes 
Though they keep themselves away from human sight 
And that wilful, wanton wailing reaches down into your boots 
So you'll dance away each hour throughout the night 

They're preparing for the party that will celebrate the day 
When the bombings and the killings have to end 
When the troubles are all over and an Irishman can say 
That an Irishman is everybody's friend 

Let us pray the truce is settled and that peace can have it's chance 
Don't you think that life in Ireland will be grand 
When we're free from all the slaughter and we join in the dance 
Of a feisty, fairy, Irish Gaelic Band 

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