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Springtime and Old Irishmen
As an Irishman,
tis my prerogative
To be an authority on all things
Great and small
As an "old" Irishman
it's my fate
Of late (and as always)
To simply know it all
As an old Irishman of visage worn
Of craggy face, rheumy blue eyes
With clothing crudely rent and worn
Prone to ale, stout and whisky sighs
As an old wise, wizened Irishman
Who loves the winter as a wondrous thing
But as sure it is, I'm an old Irishman
I treasure most…the Irish Spring
As a wise, wizened, oft inebriated Irishman
Given well to know that one's only given so many things
I relish the pleasure of the Springs I have left
Until this old wrinkled Irishman takes wing
As when this old Irishman
leaves the moor and the glen
There's but a few things I'll rue
To not see nor to hear once again
ne'er again see na' more The hind end of Winters…
ne'er hear "Danny boy" pluck again at me heartstrings…
And Na' more to smell the cold Irish sea
Nor know the fresh faces of fine Irish Springs
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every St. Patrick's Day every Irishman goes out to find another Irishman to make a speech to.
quote by Shane Leslie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Put an Irishman on the spit, and you can always get another Irishman to baste him.
Tiger By The Tail
What a shock it was so surprising
You looked so small and frail
I didnt know what to do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
People said that you must be joking
You let emotions run away with you
I realized a little too late
I bit off more than I could chew
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
At times life can be so enlightening
But it can turn on you
Lately it gets so complicated i
I dont know what the tiger will do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
The Word
Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru.
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.
The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shake A Tail Feather
(o. hayes, v. rice, a. williams)
Producer: chris lor-aldge
Albums: whats love got to do wth it
B-side of the why must we wait until tonight? single
Well I heard about the girl
Youve been dancing with
All over the neighborhood
Tell me why didnt you ask me baby?
Or didnt you think I could?
Well I know that your partner will never step aside
Ive seen you do the jerk all night
Why didnt you ask me baby?
I would have shown you how to do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Ahhhh!
Twist it
Shake it
Shake it
Shake it baby
Here we go loop de loop
Shake it up baby
Here we go loop de la
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Well, you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Well, you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
All right
Ahhhh!
Twist it
Shake it
Shake it
Shake it baby
Here we go loop de loop
And we shake it up baby
Here we go loop de la
All right now
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
So you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
You bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Well can I see you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather?
Well bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Do it
Shake it
Shake it
Shake it baby do the twist
Come on baby oh come on
Ohhhh come on
Ahhh
Ahhh
Twist it
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LVII: Used
There’s no word ‘used’ with loneliness
There’s no word ‘used’ with boredom
There’s no word ‘used’ with pain
There’s no word ‘used’ with rejection
There’s no word ‘used’ with ignorance
There’s no word ‘used’ with guilty
There’s no word ‘used’ with sacrifice
There’s no word ‘used’ with problem
There’s no word ‘used’ with slavery
There’s no word ‘used’ with piracy
There’s no word ‘used’ with power
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Irishman is never at his best except when fighting.
Word Mechanism Behind A Poem
haunted by a word from the very morning
as soon as morning opens its door to give us birth again
a word follows my nail tips, my tongue tips, my minor fracture
in the left leg little finger where a pain of wound
during the last day stretching its passion
everywhere its tail, it means the tail of that very word
crawling silently to grasp my thoughts
daily paper comes with its regular course
wants to be strangled by proper attention at least once
at least a single news-eater who will suck
the last dropp of its imprinted ejaculation
everywhere observes the shadow of that very word 'tyranny'
take a bold sip of hot tea to get a move from it
yet hot too is also haunted by the word perhaps
threat me so loudly with its intense warm
about to be jumped up and throw away abruptly
the content from mouth
tyranny
the old cat perhaps funning with its timid stealthiness
violating violently the family protocol to maintain peace
and shouted fiercely blaming the others
guessing the conspiracy of punishing me, tyranny
and gradually becomes a tyrant to display my superiority
paper shows Goddafi still untouched
Hurricane chasing the whole system to crush
Estel makes us aware about 9/11
Pranab k c
Edited on 09/09/2011
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cycle of Word
When one word drown, one word will raise
When one word vanished, one word will exist
When one word gone, one word will come
When one word finished, one word will show
When one word flies, nothing can take it back
When you talk, I wait like exiting child
The next word my ears will hear
But you keep silent, wandering in your own dream
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Squirrel
When I see you were climbing a tree
I was really ashamed of myself
as sitting in an office the whole day
like a plump-pudding.
What a marvelous bushy tail you got; and what happened
to the man's tail?
How beautiful the man's primitive stage of evolution
or civilization; simple, crude and fundamental.
Then his name was Monkey only
no surnames at all.
Now we are facing the Apocalypse
and the burlesque human are in antics and real canibals.
The tail is very important nowadays.
At least we can proceed to a jungle
and live peacefully with the help of our tail
jumping from a tree to another tree
for our survival.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now here I am playing a passionate young Irishman who would die for what he believes in.
quote by James D'arcy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Lizard Thoughts On Another Night When I’m Alone
the lizard licks its tail
in a playful mood remembering
the younger days of its
short life,
IT is playing with light
wishing that there will be fire on the ceiling
too eager to please itself
upon itself
which by the way is our way of defining
what narcissism is all
about,
the lizard bit its own tail and
eat it
not worrying though because it can grow
another tail
in the manner of
auto-regeneration
which we humans do not have
really the ability to do
i watch it closely
like the cover page of the poems
of Gratian
till now, i cannot really figure out
whether
envy has seeded its discord
inside my
heart
or i am just hungry myself
and wish i had a tail
for me to eat
for supper....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As you know, I am neither Roman Catholic, Protestant Episcopalian, nor Presbyterian, nor am I an Irishman.
quote by John Bright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keeping a woman to her word is like trying to hold an eel by its tail.
Who takes an eel by the tail and a woman at her word, may say he holds nothing.
The englishman greets, the irishman sleeps, but the scotchman gangs till he gets it.
An Irishman is the only man in the world who will step over the bodies of a dozen naked women to get to a bottle of stout.