Ireland and England are like two sisters; I would have them embrace like one brother.
quote by Boyle Roche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life And The Five Elements
Five sweet sisters and brother, water, air, fire, earth and sky one:
Moving and pushing the life, full of sorrow and fun.
Five rosy sisters and brother, in days from creation to today’s nix:
Developing and developing – every thing for life’s happy fix.
Five timeless sisters and brother, from evolution to today’s dream:
Water, Air, Energy, Food and Environment enough for life gleam!
Five tireless sisters and brother, from hell to heaven:
Each life that calls, I say 'FLIES IN SEARCH OF DREAM! '
Five deathless sisters and brother, none is the youngest or oldest one:
And no body can claim or propose, no body is near or dear done.
Five omnipresent sisters and brother - but free from clutches of time and age
No body can stop and engage them, but all are under their bondage.
Five dancing sisters and brother, of life and life nothing more:
Sun of new lives so gracious and majestically rises so much before!
Five mighty sisters and brother - Their age, well, never mind!
Universe jogs along with them, like the rest of human kind:
But the miracle and mysticism of life, sisters and brother no body knows
But the puzzle remain unsolved 'how the world goes'!
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tell It All Brother
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters
Tell it all.
How much you're holding back on me
When you say you're giving all?
And in the dungeons of your mind
Who you got chained to the wall?
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters
Tell it all.
Did you plant your feet on higher ground
To avoid life's mud and stone?
Did you ever kick a good man
When he was down, just to make yourself feel strong?
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters
Tell it all.
Tomorrow just might be too late
Now is the time
To get your jumbled mind straight
And seek a new design.
Did you ever walk for a crippled man
Pretending you were lame?
And what made you think one feeble hand to God
Was gonna make him call your name?
Tell it all brother and sisters
Tell, Tell it all
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters, tell
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y.... Differences
So many differences between one another
I love my Muslim brother
I love my Christian brother
I love my Hindu brother
I love my Bhuddist brother
I love my Jewish brother
I love all my sisters too
Somewhere deep inside
I believe that God loves all of us too
Let us celebrate our differences
Let us learn all from one another
Let us celebrate our similarities still more
I love my black brother
I love my white brother
I love my yellow brother
I love my red brother
I love my brown brother
I love all my sisters too
Somewhere deep inside
I strongly believe
That God loves all of us too
Let us celebrate our differences
Let us all learn from one another
Let us celebrate our similarities still more
I love my liberal brother
I love my socialist brother
I love my central democratic brother
I love my right winged brother
I love my left winged brother
I love my communist brother
I love all my sisters too
Somewhere deep inside
I strongly believe
that God loves all of us too
Let us celebrate our differences
Let us all learn from one another
Let us celebrate more still our similarities
I love my rich brother
I love my poor brother
I love my obese brother
I love my hungry brother
I love my middle class brother
I love all my sisters too
Somewhere deep inside
I strongly believe
God loves all of us too
Let us celebrate our differences
Let us learn all from one another
Let us celebrate still more our similarities
Can you imagine a world
Where all of us would be the same?
We need the differences
The key is humility, humbleness
Let us celebrate our differences
Let us learn all form one another
Let us celebrate still more our similarities
poem by Aufie Zophy
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SOS (Save Our Sons)
We Black men of England
Too proud to cry for shame,
Let's cry a sea
Cry publicly,
Expose our very pain,
For Babylon the bandit
Is on our sisters trail,
The bad talk
And the cool walk
Will not keep us out of jail.
We Black men of England
Our guns are killing us,
How dare we?
Now hear me
How great is dangerous?
There's a fascist and a druggist
Out to get our kith and kin,
Let silent guns
Save our sons
The power is within.
We Black men of England
Excel as if in sport
For our people,
Because some people
Want to see our face in court,
When we Black men of England
Look the mirror in the face,
Through our sisters eyes
We men shall rise
As proud sons of our race.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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My Little Brother
You didn’t come into my life
Not in the ordinary way at least
No biology here
My brother
We didn’t grow up together
Nor do we see each most days
Living miles apart still
Despite it all or
Just that I have figured out
That you are my dear brother
Are just a rare human being
And it has nothing to do
With family biology
It is all you
Either way it doesn’t hold much significance
Lucky I get to be just one of your five sisters
I am very glad you are a part of my family
My brother Ed
I will always love you
And hope you will let me be
Just another one of your five sisters
So can I tell you if you
Should you ever need a shoulder to lean on
You know where to find me
I’ll be available always
Happy 40th Birthday, my little brother
poem by Linda Engwall
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Our Brother John
He left Ireland in nineteen fifty two
Our brother John the man I barely knew
He was the eldest of the family
And the Homeland he was never more to see.
In life our brother John he journeyed far
He lived through peace time and he lived through war
In Korea with the Air Force of the U.S.A.
Far distant from the fields of Claraghatlea.
One of my sisters Mary wrote to me
She said our brother died with dignity
In death as in his life he showed his bravery
And at least now of his sufferings he's free.
Our brother John left two sons and a wife
And he worked hard all of his working life
Only in his sixties he seemed young to die
He was my hero when I was a boy.
From Millstreet thousands of sea miles away
Our brother John in a distant graveyard lay
And though I'd not seen him for more than thirty years
The news of his passing reduced me to tears.
He was the quiet man never spoke too loud
And of our brother John we felt so proud
In his death from his sufferings he found his release
And may he rest forevermore in peace.
poem by Francis Duggan
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How She Went To Ireland
Dora’s gone to Ireland
Through the sleet and snow;
Promptly she has gone there
In a ship, although
Why she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
That was where, yea, Ireland,
Dora wished to be:
When she felt, in lone times,
Shoots of misery,
Often there, in Ireland,
Dora wished to be.
Hence she’s gone to Ireland,
Since she meant to go,
Through the drift and darkness
Onward labouring, though
That she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Ireland
O WE have loved you through cold and rain
And pitiless frost,
Consuming our offering of blood and brain
Gladly again and again and again,
Though it all seemed lost,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will fight, fight on for you till
Your anguish is past,
The wronged ones righted, the tyrants still. —
Though God has not saved you, yet we will,
At the last, at the last,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will love you in warmth and light
And the happy day,
When you have forgotten the terrible night,
Standing proud and beautiful bright
For ever and aye,
Ireland, Ireland!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of England - Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a nation.
quote by Charles Stewart Parnell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brother Walfrid Stands by Parkhead's Gates
The Celtic songs filled heaven's sky
and we marched along the Gallowgate
Joined by comrades, brothers and sisters,
As Brother Walfrid stood by Parkhead's gates.
The Celtic passion is such devotion,
Heritage, culture and our faith,
Our father’s father bore the tradition,
While Brother Walfrid stood by Parkhead's gates.
In the Garngad, from the parish of St.Roch’s,
Ireland’s sons and daughters would pray,
From the Royston Road, we would find our spiritual home
As Brother Walfrid’s soul welcomed us through Parkhead’s gates.
Our Irish inheritance we will cradle,
With the Glasgow Celtic, we will celebrate,
On the Holy Ground will play heroes & legends,
Blessed by Brother Walfrid who stands by Parkhead's gates.
The green and white drapes over our heart
As we are educated on the Celtic way,
And as we gather within Celtic Park,
Brother Walfrid stands by Parkhead’s gates.
Nov’17th 2005
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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To My Brothers & Sisters Adrift in Troubled Times This Poem of the Moon.
Since the disorders in Henan and the famine in Guannei, my brothers and sisters have been scattered. Looking at the moon, I express my thoughts in this poem, which I send to my eldest brother at Fuliang, my seventh brother at Yuqian, My fifteen brother at Wujiang and my younger brothers and sisters at Fuli and Xiagui.
My heritage lost through disorder and famine,
My brothers and sisters flung eastward and westward,
My fields and gardens wrecked by the war,
My own flesh and blood become scum of the street,
I moan to my shadow like a lone-wandering wildgoose,
I am torn from my root like a water-plant in autumn:
I gaze at the moon, and my tears run down
For hearts, in five places, all sick with one wish.
Ireland, Ireland
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Down thy valleys green and sad,
Still thy spirit wanders wailing,
Wanders wailing, wanders mad.
Long ago that anguish took thee,
Ireland, Ireland, green and fair,
Spoilers strong in darkness took thee,
Broke thy heart and left thee there.
Down thy valleys, Ireland, Ireland,
Still thy spirit wanders mad;
All too late they love that wronged thee,
Ireland, Ireland, green and sad.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Made In England
I was made in England
Out of cadillac muscle
I had a quit-me father
I had a quit-me mother
I had a little Richard
And that black piano
Oh that sweet Georgia peach
And the boy from Tupelo-
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
I was made in England
Out of cadillac muscle
Face down on the playground
Crying god send me a brother
Not a bloody nose
For Rock-┬┤n┬┤-Roll
Give me that sweet Georgian peach
And the boy from Tupelo
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
I was made in England
Like a blue Cortina
But a Yankee summer
Had a way about her
You had a scent for scandal
Well here┬┤s my middle finger
I had forty years of pain
And nothing to cling to
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
If you┬┤re made in England
You┬┤re biult to last
You can still say homo
And everybody laughs
But the joke┬┤s on you
You never read the song
They all think they know
But they┬┤ve all got wrong
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
song performed by by Elton John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Dan
Old stories he told and old ballads he sung
The Tans were in Ireland when old Dan was young
He was twenty six years in nineteen sixteen
And the bitterness and grief of war he had seen.
I knew him when he was in his mid sixties in his life's early Fall
And he said his Civil war memories were his saddest memories of all
When the signing of a Treaty caused families to divide
And brother at the hand of brother had died.
He had fought in war but the praises of war would not sing
He said war to Ireland death and sorrow did bring
A heroic freedom fighter of which he never did brag
He said far too many lives lost for the colour of a flag.
With the deceased of Munster for decades he lay
I knew him as an ageing man his hair silver gray
He told stories and sung songs of his younger years
Of the Ireland he loved Land of bloodshed and tears.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Team Brother Walfrid Called Celtic
In the Archdiocese of Glasgow
In the city’s east end,
Brother Walfrid sat with his assistant Brother Dorotheus,
The vision they shared
Was that the poor must be fed
As the dinner tables lay empty for the Irish.
Brother Walfrid had a dream
That wore Ireland’s emerald green
And would be saviours to the minority Catholics,
The Irish stood at Parkhead
And the football was played
By a team, that Brother Walfrid called Celtic.
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Celtic Ray
When lewellyn comes around
And he goes through market town
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready?
When mcmannus comes around
On his early morning rounds
Crying hey...
Youll be on the celtic ray
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
When the coal brick man comes round
On a cold november day
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready? are you ready?
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Ive been away from the ray too long
Ive been away from the ray too long
All over ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, come home children
Children, come home on the celtic ray
In the early morning well go walking
Where the light comes shining through
On the celtic ray
Come home children
Come home on the celtic ray
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Of Ireland
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.'
One man, one man alone
In that outlandish gear,
One solitary man
Of all that rambled there
Had turned his stately head.
That is a long way off,
And time runs on,' he said,
'And the night grows rough.'
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
'The fiddlers are all thumbs,
Or the fiddle-string accursed,
The drums and the kettledrums
And the trumpets all are burst,
And the trombone,' cried he,
'The trumpet and trombone,'
And cocked a malicious eye,
'But time runs on, runs on.'
I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
"Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Sir Richard's Song
(A. D. 1066)
I followed my Duke ere I was a lover,
To take from England fief and fee;
But now this game is the other way over--
But now England hath taken me!
I had my horse, my shield and banner,
And a boy's heart, so whole and free;
But now I sing in another manner--
But now England hath taken me!
As for my Father in his tower,
Asking news of my ship at sea,
He will remember his own hour--
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my Mother in her bower,
That rules my Father so cunningly,
She will remember a maiden's power--
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my Brother in Rouen City,
A nimble and naughty' page is he,
But he will come to suffer and pity--
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my little Sister waiting
In the pleasant orchards of Normandie,
Tell her youth is the time for mating--
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my comrades in camp and highway
That lift their eyebrows scornfully,
Tell them their way is not my way--
Tell them England hath taken me!
Kings and Princes and Barons famed,
Knights and Captains in your degree;
Hear me a little before I am blamed--
Seeing England hath taken me!
Howso great man's strength be reckoned,
There are two things he cannot flee.
Love is the first, and Death is the second-
And Love in England hath taken me!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Teardrops In My Eyes
I grew up with four sisters and a brother we'd always run and jump and play,
My brother and I'd pull pranks on our sisters It seemed we had a new one everyday,
We'd scare them with the frogs, the snakes and spiders, Oh we loved to make them cry,
I lost my oldest sister, now I'm the one who's got the teardrops in his eyes,
She'll never call me little brother, laugh that laugh she used to do,
When I saw her there so peaceful, all these feelings hit me true,
I wish that I could tell her that I'm sorry, and had the chance to say goodbye,
I'm looking at my Brother as we carry her with teardrops in our eyes.
She'll never call me little brother, laugh her laugh that 'woo-hoo, hoo',
When I saw her there so peaceful, all these feelings hit me true,
I wish I had the chance to say I loved her and had the chance to say goodbye,
I'm standing at her gravesite, for I'm the one whose got the teardrops in his eyes.
poem by Steve Brom
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