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You and me, and Molly Malone
In Dublin city, so far from home
Looking over the Liffey
That's when it hit me
My love for you, had only grown

In Galway Bay, we couldn't stay
The loyalty, love, and friendship day
Rainbows at the Cliffs of Moher
The Blarney Stone we can't ignore
Waterford Crystal and...Cabernet

You and me, and Molly Malone
Is the memory, that I've carved in stone
Dancing in Dublin
You've got my heart bublin'
My love for you, had only grown

Guinness, whiskey, cider
I got sick on chowder
Hanging out with Wilde
Don't forget that child
Ten thousand years they're not

You and me, and Molly Malone
Here comes the time, for us to go home
Even though we're leavin'
We will leave here knowin'
My love for you, had only grown
(My love for you, had only grown)
In memory of my 2017 trip to Ireland!
Most of it is self explanatory. one memory was of me and my boyfriend looking at a famine statue. a local Irish dad and two of his sons were passing by, when the youngest son (~8) shout out "those statues have been here for ten thousand years" the older brother (11) playfully pushes and quickly correct his younger brother and informs us that "no they're not"

I suppose we stuck out as tourists!
Ray Dunn Mar 29
in a field of four leaf clovers—
i’ll await your three leaves,
my dear

you’re my goodluck charm—
mixed amongst non-scented flowers,
my love
Just  thinking back to when I wore my grandmothers necklace, an Irish symbol with  marble from homeland of Ireland, and lost the pendant in a field of clovers by my school. Makes me very sad to remember, hopefully I’ll find it one day
Makayla Jane Mar 26
We skipped 1st period together
And things were cool and calm

No issues - we didn't get caught
As I gave advice to you as usual,

We discussed what we have in common - good and bad
Then you can't see anything good about yourself
But as I told you,
Sometimes the good things and people are overlooked;
Sometimes we overlook the good things about ourselves

After that you agreed and seemed to understand a bit
Suddenly you asked what's on my mind,
To which I confessed my fear to you

How I want to live near my best friend after high school,
That I want to be around someone I know
"Because, anxiety." As I said
And added how the thought of going to a different country
Scares me to all high ****

Then again, you mentioned that you want me to go with you to Ireland
Or that we can stay here
And when your grandmother passes, I can move into your house with you

I don't understand why you're being so nice,
I don't know if I can believe your words
You a confusing character my friend, I hope I can trust and believe you.
Feel free to share revision ideas (:
Dawnstar Mar 17
I know a land of salt
and pepper stalks and moss,
whose jagged, hazy coast
a thousand flowers bears —
of Ireland I boast.

Even now my heart is sick
for a home I never had.
If I were there,
what I would do,
I'll tell to you....

I'd show my love the mountain's nooks,
I'd pounce the foeman's daring rooks,
and plunder every dusty book,
and sleep in emerald vales.
We'd clamber up to a secret cave
and there we'd dwell,
away from the pell-mell,
and fast away in purple robes,
pretending we were noble-born
(for Ireland, we ought to be),
we'd in defiance hunger stave.

See now, her cloud legions marching in step
like flares emerging from the wood.
While horses roam her sunlit plains
and flowers shudder in her breeze;
while puddles form in shallow pools,
my watered mind accustoms trees
of bleak and twisted nature,
on the wild icicle river,
coldly biting my knees.

But here afar away,
there's treasure under every
glistening leaf,
'twixt frond and fern,
bristle and bramble,
and bounding stream.
By daylight,
Eire counts every rock;
at starlight,
assesses her stock.

I know a land
whose greenery bursts
in the morning dew,
and gives hopeful cause
to a hundred generations
of stoic sword-brethren
flashing down the coast,
singing their jolly tune,
as the oak decks are mounted
with freedom's guns
emboldening battle new.

Her amber-gilded name spears through
clouded sea and Cambrian cliff:
if every isle were touched as this!
by saintly light from Atlas' air.
She is the jewel of the isles,
the song of countless souls.
As men march down her
summer roads to meet their
tender-hearted lovers at home in
comfort from callous kings, the
breeze will bring news of another
christening or crossing... for then
each girl will spy him coming, and
make haste to alert the town,
and they will all turn out with joy
to welcome home their darling boy;
to herald the ending of famine and war,
and so they will shout for centuries more!
HeWhoExplores Feb 23
It was Friday morn, and the sky was still as dark as charcoal.
The coach drove on through the peaceful County of Carlow, with sleeping passengers as quiet as door mice.
As the clearing of the morning darkness began, the bedraggled boy awoke from his slumber, perplexed and bewildered.
It was in this moment his journey took a delightful twist; as the skies from outside turned a pale blood-red.
It was a magical sight, he thought, as he rubbed his eyes just to be certain.
But what a shame for the passengers as they continued to sleep, missing the rising spectacle.
The boy, in awe and delight took witness to the beautiful gift, witnessing for the first time beautiful County Carlow, in all of its glory.
A little story from a bus trip
HeWhoExplores Feb 21
Crowds gathered and the noise of disobedience shook the neighbourhood whole. I was in the southern part of the city, where sinners sinned and the practitioners groomed the bars and off licenses solely to quench their thirst for liquor. It was almost midnight and hordes of young and old alike chanted and sung merry making song that rang through city; and what a noise it was. And it was on this night I met a lad who dressed as if the night belonged to him. A tall, slender fellow who hadn’t a care in the world. His Caribbean afro would bob up and down as we giggled to anecdotal stories of the past. We were rebels of the night, breaking away from the fragile unity that was the friendship circle.

A few stragglers in the form of Chavs had joined. Many of them formed bonds with the pretty girls, rivalling us out in the end. Deciding momentarily on what our next plan was, we split away from the group and continued midnight drinking into the Holy Lands. We could hear the barking of neighbourhood dogs tangle with the distant explosions of fireworks in the sky. It was beautifully chaotic. But as midnight sinners it was like music to our ears.

“I’m off mate, take care of yourself.” The fellow said as he guzzled his last remainder of his bottled Budweiser.

“You heading home, aye?” I smirked, clearly egging him on to stay out just a tad longer. But, this was to be it. With a hug and a good luck, he was off, towards the mystic backstreets and towards the Ormeau Road. I never caught the young lad’s name, nor did I ever catch his age. It was a strange meeting between the two of us. As if, for one singular night we knew everything about each other yet knew nothing at all. I recall sitting back down on the sidewalk and smiling, before looking up towards the decorative sparkly night sky. And, what turned out to be a spontaneous and random night ended up as a completed final chapter, to a superb little story.
A little story reminiscing a lovely time long gone.
Deb Jones Jan 2018
My Ireland

Next summer I am going to Ireland.
Where my yearnings have always been.
Since I was a child I knew.
The thought still gives me shivers.
I want to stand on ground and feel the steps my forebearers once walked.
The battle cries, the pain and the elation.
I will know them all.
I will know the hills when I see them.
Like calling to like.
I will drive until I find the place.
Then I will park and walk the hills.
I will look at the emerald isle and let the wind blow through me.
My family makes fun of me.
Asking how will I know.
I will know. I will know.
My heart yearns for Ireland.
And I know, just know
That Ireland has been waiting for me.
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