I would love to write the story of my upbringing in Ireland.
quote by Fiona Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Robert Emmet
“Let no man write my epitaph.”
The defiant rebel said.
'Let no woman eulogize me
After I am dead.'
'I give my life for Ireland-
An Ireland strong and free
An Ireland that‘s united,
One free of tyranny.'
'When my country takes its rightful place
Among nations of the world.
That day I will not live to see
When our banner is unfurled.'
'On that day, and only then
Let my suffering be recalled-
and that I died for Liberty-
The sweetest death of all.'
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maybe I
You were right
You came over me
What'd never been before
You slid under my door and now I find
A Reason to admit I've been too lazy
But in this light
In this atmosphere
I'm starting to believe
The other side of me but who's to know
Honey... surely one of us is crazy
Maybe I... I'm not so easily stung
Maybe I... I got some love for someone
Maybe I... I'm not the story for you
Maybe I... I'll be the do you ought to do
So now I stand
I never stood before
What's better left unsaid is done, buried and dead and you're alive
Girl I think you might just stay the night
Maybe I... I'm not so easily stung
Maybe I... I got some love for someone
Maybe I... I'll write a story for you
Maybe I... I'll be the do you ought to do
I'm not trying to take it easy
I'm not trying to help you see
I'm not trying to take us over
I'm just trying to believe
Maybe I... I'm not so easily stung
Maybe I... I got some love for someone
Maybe I... I'm just the story for you
Maybe I... I'll be the do you ought to do
Maybe I... I'm not the one for your love
Maybe I... I'll be your heaven above
Maybe I... I'll write a story for two
Maybe I... I'll be the do that you do
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My upbringing was very straightforward suburban working class upbringing.
quote by Billy Bragg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Artiste
If I were a painter!
I would paint a picture of you,
If I were a songwriter!
I would sing of my love for you,
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were a painter!
I would paint a picture of you,
I brush your hair,
with gentle strokes,
with a touch of brown,
and of you on your bed.
I'll make you blush and glow,
With a single stroke I can
make you smile again,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were a songwriter!
I would sing of my love for you,
I would write the words,
to tell you how I feel,
And maybe make this real,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
a love that would bind
our two hearts,
write words of love for your voice,
as I let it wash over me,
of kissing your lips and the taste of you,
But I am only me,
as you can see.
RG/RR
poem by Robert Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God Be With You
The truth will ever hide
Even though I tried
They tried to take my pride
But they only took my father from me
They only took my father
Even though I cried
Even though I tried again
God be with you ireland
God be with you ireland
Sometimes I was afraid
Even though I prayed
Ive lost my religion now
You took that too somehow
Blood upon thy hands
Blood upon thy hands again
(I have served my time)
God be with you ireland
(suffered for my crime)
God be with you ireland
(I have served my time)
God be with you ireland
(suffered for my crime)
God be with you ireland
God be with you now
God be with you now
God be with you now
God be with you now
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give Ireland Back To The Irish
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian you are tremendous
And nobody knows like me
But really what are you doin
In the land across the sea
Tell me how would you like it
If on your way to work
You were stopped by irish soliders
Would you lie down do nothing
Would you give in, or go berserk
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian and all the people
Say that all people must be free
Meanwhile back in ireland
Theres a man who looks like me
And he dreams of God and country
And hes feeling really bad
And hes sitting in a prison
Should he lie down do nothing
Should give in or go mad
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Just Do It For the Enjoyment
I hear this all the time:
'Oh?
So you're a writer?
What else do you do?
How much money do you make? '
I write poetry!
'Ooooohhh!
So you like to write 'poooems'?
I use to do that,
When I was in elementary school.
You make money from doing that? '
No.
I just do it for the enjoyment!
'Oh gawd!
You're one of those sentimentalists?
One driven by emotions and unresolved issues?
Confused by life!
And abused by a dysfunctional upbringing.'
I suppose.
But I currently have two books out!
'Nooooo?
But no one's into reading poetry! '
Me either.
I didn't say I read it!
I write it!
'Oh!
Well...
You 'must' be doing it for the money? '
Not yet!
That's next!
'You want me to help you? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I write
I write and imagine
and create my own story
and what I think I write down
without anybody being able to stop me
and there’s a knight clothed in steel
who’s finished fighting and unsaddles his horse.
I write and imagine
and make everybody’s story
of peace descending to earth,
children honouring their parents,
being exemplary and prepared to study,
but reality is cruel and naked
and I write and imagine.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ireland.
Written for the Art Autograph during the Irish Famine, 1880.
Heartsome Ireland, winsome Ireland,
Charmer of the sun and sea,
Bright beguiler of old anguish,
How could Famine frown on thee?
As our Gulf-Stream, drawn to thee-ward,
Turns him from his northward flow,
And our wintry western headlands
Send thee summer from their snow,
Thus the main and cordial current
Of our love sets over sea, --
Tender, comely, valiant Ireland,
Songful, soulful, sorrowful Ireland, --
Streaming warm to comfort thee.
poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My point is there's a hidden Scotland in anyone who speaks the Northern Ireland speech. It's a terrific complicating factor, not just in Northern Ireland, but Ireland generally.
quote by Seamus Heaney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Write
Let me not
Write about you
Let me write
Something new
Let me fall for
Another guy
And write a
Love story
All new ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ireland Shall Rebel
WHILE tyrants rule the land,
Beneath the Irish skies;
While e’er the iron hand
Upon our people lies;
While sons are driven forth
In other lands to dwell,
Still in the South and North
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
While fanlike from below,
And pale against the skies,
That light of shame—the glow
Of burning homes—shall rise;
While hot indignant tears
From Irish hearts shall swell:—
Be it a thousand years,
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
Until the tyrant’s rod
Shall broken be in twain,
And on the dear old sod
Blest freedom treads again;
Or till our masters learn
To rule our country well,
The fires of hate shall burn!—
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Write With My Heart
I write with my heart
My heart on my sleeve
I'm open and honest
At lest I try to be
I never question
If you're wrong
I never think
You're a mistake
To me you're just human
Just like me
I am who I say
I am whom I write
My life story is here
With each stanza I write
People they ask
Am I really for real
Yes I say with pride
Read the story of my life
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Ireland In The Coming Times
Know, that I would accounted be
True brother of a company
That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,
Ballad and story, rann and song;
Nor be I any less of them,
Because the red-rose-bordered hem
Of her, whose history began
Before God made the angelic clan,
Trails all about the written page.
When Time began to rant and rage
The measure of her flying feet
Made Ireland's heart hegin to beat;
And Time bade all his candles flare
To light a measure here and there;
And may the thoughts of Ireland brood
Upon a measured guietude.
Nor may I less be counted one
With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson,
Because, to him who ponders well,
My rhymes more than their rhyming tell
Of things discovered in the deep,
Where only body's laid asleep.
For the elemental creatures go
About my table to and fro,
That hurry from unmeasured mind
To rant and rage in flood and wind,
Yet he who treads in measured ways
May surely barter gaze for gaze.
Man ever journeys on with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
Ah, faerics, dancing under the moon,
A Druid land, a Druid tune.!
While stiIl I may, I write for you
The love I lived, the dream I knew.
From our birthday, until we die,
Is but the winking of an eye;
And we, our singing and our love,
What measurer Time has lit above,
And all benighted things that go
About my table to and fro,
Are passing on to where may be,
In truth's consuming ecstasy,
No place for love and dream at all;
For God goes by with white footfall.
I cast my heart into my rhymes,
That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!