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:
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.
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!
*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!
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!
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