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You don't wear black face.
You'd never do such.
You don't wear white face,
You're no mime.
But every March,
Millions
Dress in green,
Affect terrible brogues,
And get drunk, some must disgracefully:
Because that's what the Irish do, think they.
Is it tasteful to wear a yarmulke for Yom Kippur,
A burka on Eid al-Adha,
And join the parade down Fifth Avenue?
Not.
Sliante
Don't know why the world thinks the Irish are drunkards. I go to Ireland every year, and the only drunks I see are North Americans, whites and blacks, ****, straights and all others not mentioned.  Even the phrase "Paddy Wagon" is an ethnic slur.
aon lann
go géar
nó fírinneach
a thógáil amach
cad atá tú


no blade
that sharp
or untrue
to take away
what is you
Credits to Temporal Fugue for this beautiful poem I found
How to write ones final words? How find the will to carry on?
When I know this ship and all - all of this - will soon be gone.
Yet perhaps, if not my bones, at least my memories will be found
Amid the wreckage of a land where none but swaying palms abound.
So may the finder of this bottle bring these words I duly pen
To the family of the sailor - Kieran Dacey Boylan -
Though my body lies in rest beneath the roiling of the sea -
Know my soul forever soars above the verdant Irish lea.
fiachra breac Jun 15
bhí coinne agam anocht,
chuaigh muid go Lus na Gréine.
bhí sí go hiontach.

labhraimid le chéile,
faoi gach rud agus níos mó.
bhí sí go hiontach.

tá sásta orm.
ruth Jun 7
A lament don Ghaeilge

A language
in my Blood
but not - on my tongue.

The prose and poetry of my ancestors
fallen - on deaf ears.

When did we accept this anglicized assonance,
to marr the seanchaithe tale of soil and air?

The Land of Saints and Scholars -
speaking words from others tongues.
A Catalan
liaison where
with his
jazz guitar
as Gioconda
in Hoboken
really left
for Athens
and green
pasture of
Ulster that
pokes a
fable with
lure of
capes in
New York
and Saint-Tropez
Abercrombie , John ;noted jazz guitarist
fiachra breac May 28
laethanta sásta,
botharanna salach ‘s
éan orágamaí
happy days,
grubby roads and
an origami bird
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
Star BG Mar 17
I am not IRISH,
but on Saint Patricks Day
I be one tall and strong.

One to appreciate Irish music,
and dance with
Celtic Thunder.

Where I wear Green
and wave flag honoring
the country grand.

One to have button
saying Kiss Me I'm Irish
and wait for one openly.

Where I turn TV onto
parade to cheer happily
inside day.

One to breath deep
and speak with
learned Irish accent delicately.

I am not IRISH
but full of celebration
for date of March 17th
dear to heart.

Perhaps in next life, I shall be.
Happy Saint Patricks day ALL
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