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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #950174
A poem for all Irish people away from Ireland on St. Patrick's Day
I am English but absolutely love Ireland and have visited several times. However, it was when I was visiting Fort Lauderdale with my husband that we spent a very pleasant evening at 'Kelly's Bar' for an Irish music evening. The band, 'a fire in the kitchen' was performing, one member sang the Irish songs with tears in his eyes. During the break we sat with him and he said that although he got emotional when remembering his early life in Ireland and all his family that were still living there, he was not unhappy. I wrote this poem from what he had said but we never returned there before we returned to the UK so he never saw it.



I'm a piece of Ireland, far away across the sea,

American I've become but I'm very proud to be

Forever Irish; and forty shades of green

I sing it from my heart, picture the Irish scene,

I still have the Emerald flowing in my soul,

My childhood's long ago and now it's a whole
Different life I've claimed to become free,

But my Irish roots still mean the world to me.



I sing favourite Irish songs in a bar, tell jokes, 

Music, violin playing for me always evokes

Feelings from those almost forgotten times,

Lilting ballads, jaunty jigs, Ireland's rhymes.

I'm telling the story of my Irish roots tonight

I always keep a bit of Ireland in my sight,

Tunes bringing tears, tunes making you smile,

I'd like to share my Ireland with you for a while.



Irish jokes and laughter hide the passion in me

For the country of my birth, that's far across the sea.

Family gatherings there with music to the fore,

There's singing and dancing, all Irish to the core,

With a fire in the kitchen warm are my memories,

I always remember my folks and their families,

So as I sing to you tonight, look into my eyes

You'll see something there I don't try to disguise.



It may be many years since I walked in Dublin city

Saw the rivers flowing, saw Irish colleens so pretty 

As they danced familiar jigs in a traditional way,

The likes of which you do not see in the USA.

I miss the green fields, beautiful when blooming,

But I am not unhappy, so don't you be assuming

I am, I may be pining just to visit for a while,

My Irish eyes are smiling as I sing of the Emerald Isle.
© Copyright 2005 Ann Ticipation (annticipation at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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