Tuesday March 17th, 2009

The exercise:

Happy St. Patrick's Day! The one day a year we all get to indulge in our love of all things Irish. On this occasion I'd like to share my favorite Irish blessing: May you be in heaven an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

Today's topic: luck.

Mine:

In me back pocket
There be a lucky penny,
Next to me locket
That holds a hair from Jenny.

The coin's a winner,
It's never left me lowly;
Though I'm a sinner,
It brought me love so holy.

4 comments:

Greg said...

And a happy St. Patrick's Day to you too! I hope it was a sufficiently drunken one ;-)

Luck

Out on the porch past a weathered rocker,
Is where I keep my luck
In a canopic jar on top of a sea-locker,
Engraved with an eider duck.
My old dog Toby keeps watch with blinded eyes,
And my luck is guarded by a myriad of lies.

It's waiting for another time when the sun is red and low,
And it's needed to save a soul
From the depredations of things below.
My luck will make things whole,
And the cthonian dwellers will send their pain in dreams,
Where nothing is as it seems.

Anonymous said...

Four-leaf clovers.
A rabbit's foot.
A lucky penny.
I'm counting my lucky stars
That I have the life that I do,
And that I share it with you!

Tracy said...

*smiling*

In my kitchen hangs a plate: May you be in Heaven a half hour before the Devil knows you're dead.

(Apparently these plate-makers were cutting the running start down to 30 minutes!)

Mine:

Once I traveled through the Emerald Isle,
The green, 'tis true, is greener than you've known.
And a met a man in Kinsale,
That sold me a silver ring -

At first he teased "you Americans you come!
With only a pinky of Irish in you"
But he still charmed me -
Was able to charm me
And sold me a silver ring.

From there I traveled - a friend in tow,
Up to Blarney Castle
After kissing The Stone
I met a man who sold me some marble -
Green, he said, from County Mayo.

He showed me a brass knocker,
For me father, he suggested
As his friendly arm draped my shoulders.
But when I left, only the keepsake stone,
Was carried in my pocket.

So here's to Ireland! And to her sons, and even higher I lift to her daughters!
And here's to the Dublin cabbie, Who warned me away from the canals,
and to the potter I found when I lost my way.

So here's to Ireland, her sons and her daughters!
To you and every day -
I miss your people, your land, your spirit,
And I will return some day!

Marc said...

Greg - ah, but twas a sober one to be sure. Perhaps this weekend I shall make up for it.

I had to google at least three words in your poem - I think you've returned to form :P

Bunny - that's so sweet, you're a lucky one for certain :)

Tracy - ah, those plate makers. Always in a rush.

I actually bought a little figurine with that blessing on it when I was in Ireland and gave it to a friend of mine when I got back. She was like 'aww, thank... wait a second!'

Your poem reminded me of my time in Ireland as well. I too will get back there one day - though I suspect I won't be traveling by hitchhiking the second time around!