On Hearing One Reciting Verses Of Callanan
He recited Gougane Barra and the outlaw of Lough Lene
And my thoughts went back the long gone years to my school going days again
When our teacher recited those verses to us from the pen of a Cork born bardic man
The one whose bones rest in distant Portugal Jeremiah Joseph Callanan.
The poems of J J Callanan will live forever more
And are recited far distant from green old Erin's shore
A true poet of the people though he died poor and young
And he was one of genius and his songs are still sung.
The poet and hedge school teacher his poems known far and wide
And greatness is a thing of him that can never be denied
He recited his verses in village and in town
And even in his too brief life Callanan knew renown.
He recited Gougane Barra and it took me far away
To the school house room in Millstreet happy memories with us stay
When our teacher recited the poems of Callanan 'he was showing his years in gray'
Back in the nineteen fifties and that's going back many a day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Related quotes
I felt traditions were fading away
I felt traditions were fading away
Today, it is all about
Fast, easy, and gaudy
It destroy customs
It was time to give something back
To ensure the transmission
Of ancient art form
Was handed down
By the old Masters
In its integral form
To be recited at it's best
Royal poetry has always been a mystery
What do the royals read?
No one really knows
Royal poems relate
To their individual art
Culture, and ceremonies
It is formed differently
And recited distinctively
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Edward Harrington
With the best writers of his era Edward Harrington did rate
The farmer's son from Shepparton was a poetic great
He wrote the stirring ballads that poetry lovers love to recite
A poem of his recited at many a poetry night.
As a young man Edward Harrington went off to fight in war
And through the remainder of his life he carried the mental scar
Of his terrible experiences in Palestine far away
And the mental scar remained with him until his dying day.
His great ballads of the Australian bush rangers Dan Morgan and the Kelly gang are sung
By ballad singers who heard them when they themselves were young,
Australia's most notorious in verse he glorified
The men who hid from the law in the rugged country side.
He was one of Australia's last famous men of rhyme
The poems of Edward Harrington have withstood the test of time
And those who knew the great poet said he was sensitive and shy
And fame and adulation he did not seem to enjoy.
In 1965 in his seventieth year Edward Harrington passed away
But his poems are still recited and his songs are sung today
The farmer's son from Shepparton a prince of poetry
One of Australia's finest and few as great as he.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Small Need...
Let me write some poems
Let me be a poet.
Give me a pen,
Give me a paper,
And give me a few thoughts.
Let the world know me a lot
Let me be a clot.
Give my poems a rhyme
Give them a rhythum too.
And give me a name.
Let my poems be recited by all
Let my lines be quoted by the world.
Give me your fingers
Give me your mind as well.
Let me too be a poet.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Dan and Mary Ellen
With fondness I remember my aunt Mary Ellen the woman married to my uncle Dan
She was my role model and mentor long before I grew into a man
She taught me old songs from her childhood and poems to me she did recite
And she gave me valuable insights on Nature before I learned how to read and to write.
She and Dan in life did have their crosses their only child a girl in her childhood died
Their happiness at the birth of their daughter by the reaper's scythe to them denied
But Mary she got on with her life and her cross she bravely did bear
And her sense of loss never made her feel bitter and she never said life was unfair.
A lover of old poems and stories she knew the words of many a song
That she used to sing by the turf fire on Winter nights cold, wet, windy and long
She recited poems of the bards of Sliabh Luachra old greats from the centuries ago
So wise and knowledgeable for one self educated and so much about life she did know.
With Dan whom she spent many Seasons in the grave-yard at Cullen she lay
I mourned at the news of their passing though from Lisnaboy I live far away
They were generous with their wisdom and their knowledge of life they passed on down
And at peace their bones now rest in Cullen some seven miles from Millstreet Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Wires
Wires
I was fourteen
when our literature teacher said:
‘For today’s homework
you have to write a poem about your arms’.
The next day I stood up before the class and recited:
‘My arms are like very, very long wires
with which I can embrace the whole world.'
The teacher said: ‘Very good, great metaphor’.
He died peacefully
just a few years before the Wireless Era.
Lucky for him, he escaped the struggle
of all these wireless things,
even wireless loves.
Meanwhile, I mourn for the death of my first great metaphor.
poem by Ndrek Gjini
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Sigerson Clifford Sung Of
Sigerson Clifford sung of the The Boys of Barr Na Sraide the happy boys who hunted for the Wran
The boys who grew up to be freedom fighters Who took on the British troops The Black and Tan
He glorified them in his famous ballad the brave young rebels of his Kerry Town
The boys of Caherciveen and Barr Na Sraide to fight for Ireland their claim to renown
Sigerson Clifford sung of his gentle teacher the likeable and pleasant Brother Mick
The one who introduced Humanity to his classroom who banished the strap that pained and burnt the stick
A better and by far a more successful teacher than those who took delight in the usage of the cane
He was so different to his other teachers that he and his school mates wondered was he sane
Sigerson Clifford sung about the Irish Travellers of them some famous ballads he did write
He was the uncrowned Poet Laureate of Kerry other his songs sing and his poems do recite
His songs and poems are full of joy and pathos the one who was born with the gift of rhyme
In death he remains as a poetic legend and he was a legend in his own lifetime
Sigerson Clifford sung of the Boys of Barr Na Sraide and in Irish literature the renowned Kerry poet
Lives in his poems and songs as one remembered he was indeed a literary man of note.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Boys And Girls I Went To School With
The boys and girls I went to school with from me now far away
And even some of them not living now where the dead are they lay
And in distant flights of fancy I fancy I see them yet
And them I still remember and them I won't forget.
The boys and girls I went to school with the years have left them slow
And were I to meet them on the street perhaps them I''d not know
For the years they leave us looking older and there''s no turning back the hands of time
And those I went to school with like me now long past their prime.
Many of the boys and girls I went to school with live distant from Millstreet
And we well might be strangers now if by chance we did meet
In my mental pictures of them they have not aged a day
But reality is different and 'tis always been that way.
Many of the boys and girls I went to school with in Millstreet our Home -town
Have left that green old countryside where Finnow babbles down
For to join with the great Blackwater on it''s journey to the sea
Still their innocence and youthfulness will always be with me.
The changes keep on happening and nothing seems to last
Still we cling on to our memories and we can''t deny our past
And though we may now be strangers were we to meet again
The boys and girls I went to school with young in my thoughts remain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Merry Carnival
Some poems are love songs
And can even be sung
Some are praises to love
All its glory and cost
Or personal enquiries
To those who are lost
I have songs that give praise
But this song laments
I have poems for loving
But this poem complains
Of Americopia, where consumers spend
Afflicted by thirst, without solace from pain
A Merry Carnival
Whose show cannot end
This Americomedy
Its laughter undressed
By those calling for peace
And working for rest
The Americarnivore
Plays at love like a beast
The Americatastrophe
In implacable haste
Addicted to plunder
Lays its heroes to waste.
Some songs are praise poems
To heroines and gods
Which celebrate mortals
With barely-heard cries
At the well of the throat
Where redemption lies
And at the firm juncture
Of a shoulder and hand
Tracing the crossroads
With delicate allure
The poems are recited
The songs raised once more.
poem by Frank Bana
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A teacher who is just right
Have you had a teacher
That makes your heart glow
A teacher is wonderful
A teacher whom you feel honored to have
A teacher who you can laugh or cry with
A teacher whom you can love no matter what they do
A teacher who looks up to you when you don't know
A teacher who just seems to understand you
A teacher who you think about day and night
A teacher whom you pray for as you go to bed
A teacher who is there when need them to
Thoughts of them are always in your head
A teacher who shares with you there ups and downs
A teacher who is there for you in school
A teacher who you share all your smiles with replacing al your frowns
poem by Rosa Tenezaca
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The Poems Of John Clare
For years in Northampton mental asylum he battled his ghosts of despair
His Nation's finest poet of Nature the marvellous wordsmith John Clare
So many of his poems are relevant today
The one who loved Nature with words had a way.
The Helpston he grew up in not a cultural place
And though in that old Village his was a known face
They little realized the fame to them he'd bring
That poetry lovers World wide his praises would sing.
Without him less people of Helpston would know
The great poet of Nature of centuries ago
He died in Northampton mental asylum in dire poverty
Yet is there one greater Nature poet than he?
His flora and fauna poems have passed scrutiny's test
And as a Nature poet he was surely the best
Into the soul of Nature it seemed he could see
And his verses have outlived his mortality.
He never did enjoy his literary renown
And he died in the asylum in Northampton Town
But he was a true poet and his type are so rare
And old Helpston lives on in the poems of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Boys I Went To School With
We played football in the school yard and we swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow
And the boys I went to school with perhaps now looking gray
And many of them from the Homeland shore like me live far away.
Many of the boys I went to school with and that's going back more than four decades in time
Are now ageing grand fathers and years beyond their prime
And those legs that could move so quickly some forty years ago
Now feeling tired and heavy and their fastest pace is slow.
The boys I went to school with have known a better day
And that time takes care of everyone it would be fair to say
Our young years went too quickly and time just flitted by
And on looking back it seems like only yesterday when I was a school boy.
Some of the boys I went to school with to the grim reaper have gone
But life back in the old Hometown as usual carries on
And in the fields near Millstreet Town where the rank rushes grow
The Finnow on towards Drishane and the Blackwater flow.
Most of the boys I went to school with I have not seen for years
But for my fading memories I don't have any tears
We played football in the school yard and in Summer swam in the Finnow
But the years go by so quickly and to father time we bow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Those That I Went To School With
Some of them with the departed and the others growing old and gray
Those that I went to school with in the long gone yesterday
From the boys and girls I went to school with many years before I reached my prime
I am separated by distance and by long years of time.
Some of them live far distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
And from the Town in View of Clara hill overlooking Claramore
And some of them remained in Duhallow married and there raised their family
And some of them remained unattached single and fancy free.
Most of those I went to school with I have not seen for years
And for the past and for what has been I've shed nostalgic tears
Like every other migrant for the past forever gone
But the present is what matters and we keep on keeping on.
Of those I went to school with good memories I retain
Though most of them I realize I will never meet again
We've gone our separate ways in life but memories of them I do recall
And happy memories of what was the best memories of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Back to School
I can't believe it went by so fast
Now is time to go
Back to school
I'm not ready, but
I have to get through this
Another year
Filled with crazyness, funny, great, and rollercoaster ride
Time to get back to those books,
Lectures, meeting new teachers, and
Meeting new classmates
Seeing friends/or girlfriend/boyfriend
We haven't seen in while
I'm just ready for another year
Now is time to go
Back to school
This last thing I want to thing about
Why can't summer last forever
Well life goes in circle
Good things have to come too end eventually
Get ready to see school again
I hope I can remember where things are,
It been almost three months
Time to get through seven hours of schools
Even through I hate school I need it
Back to school
Once again with fun, excited, bored, happy and all kind emotions
You feel happen in everday of your life at school
Some of us will the butterflies, but as days go by
You be calm and get used to class, people, your teacher and school again
You be ok
Everday is brand new day
Don't stress out and take a deep breath
Have fun and enjoy
It goes by fast before you know its over
There so much memories you won't forget
Back to school
poem by Christina Phan
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On Reading Poems And Songs Of Burns
The poems and songs of Robert Burns are still living
And though his body died more than two hundred years ago
His spirit and his soul will live forever
You will find them where the Afton Waters flow.
He was the pride of Scotland Robert Burns
The greatest of his clan and of his race
And along with Walter Scott he ranks as his Country's greatest
And in literature he commands the highest place.
'For Auld Lang Syne' will surely live forever
As Robert Burns gift to the New Year
When you attend a new year celebration
More likely than not Lang Syne you will hear.
His great poems To a Mouse and To a Mountain Daisy
His haunting ballad to his Red Red Rose
The great poet living in his songs and verses
And the legend that grew with him grows and grows.
You see the music in the poems of Burns
He was more than a peasant man of rhyme
He was a humanitarian and a great poet
The lesser bards have faded out in time.
He died in poverty but he is famous
His songs and verses known and sung World-wide
The fame of Burns will live on forever
He brought to Scotland patriotic pride.
From Alloway In Ayrshire Robert Burns
His legacy the marvellous gift of song
The Scottish his birthday and birthplace honour
But to all peoples his verses belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Young Men of Sidon
The actor they'd brought in to entertain them
also recited a few choice epigrams.
The room opened out on the garden
and the delicate odour of flowers
mingled with the scent
of the five perfumed young Sidonians.
There were readings from Meleager, Krinagoras, Rhianos.
But when the actor recited
'Here lies Aeschylus, the Athenian, son of Euphorion'
(stressing maybe more than he should have
'his renowned valour' and 'sacred Marathonian grove'),
a vivacious young man, mad about literature,
suddenly jumped up and said:
'I don't like that quatrain at all.
Sentiments of that kind seem somehow weak.
Give, I say, all your strength to your work,
make it your total concern. And don't forget your work
even in times of stress or when you begin to decline.
This is what I expect, what I demand of you
and not that you completely dismiss from your mind
the magnificent art of your tragedies
your Agamemnon, your marvellous Prometheus,
your representations of Orestes and Cassandra,
your Seven Against Thebes -merely to set down for your
memorial
that as an ordinary soldier, one of the herd,
you too fought against Datis and Artaphernis.'
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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School's out
Well we got no choice
All the girls and boys
Makin all that noise
'Cause they found new toys
Well we can't salute ya
Can't find a flag
If that don't suit ya
That's a drag
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Well we got no class
And we got no principles
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not go back at all
School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely.
poem by Killed Killa
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Teacher Says, Teacher Goes
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
what you have done,
was clearly a mistake,
maybe it is,
time for a break.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
that you have been naughty.
That you have been quite foughty.
That you are being rude,
don't call teacher a dude.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smilies,
teacher know,
that you were making faces,
behind teachers back,
that you were throwing spitballs,
at the teacher's pet.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows.
So enough is said,
so now you know,
that whatever you do.....
Teacher says,
Teacher goes,
Teacher smilies,
Teacher knows
poem by Jasmine Aira
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Live And Learn
Live and Learn
by Michael W. Smith & Wayne Kirkpatrick
on i 2 (EYE) (1988)
Never should have tasted that forbidden fruit
Tell me why do I always do
What I don't want to do
Now, I'm the only reaper of the seeds that I sow
And when I walk the field of my stubborn will
It's a hard row to hoe
There's a price for getting smarter
So I pay what I owe
While bridges burn
Let the shadow fall behind me
I am wiser I know
We live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
Is it out of the fire, back into the pan
Is once enough to let it all sink in - or will I do it again
A time for understanding has now come of age
So I heed the word of the counselor and the voice of the sage
Try to see the meaning
Read between every line
When pages turn
There'll be no room for explaining what has been well defined
We live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
An engaging temptation had me doing time
'Cause when it starts a fire under strong desire
We are partners in crime
But hindsight is clearer
I can see where I've gone and never return
It's a new man in the mirror
It's a new freedom song to live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
Excerpt from "Mortality" by Willim Knox
recited by Chris Harris
(ed: recited before the song
"'Tis the wink of an eye
'Tis the draught of a breath
From the blossoms of health
To the pales of death
From the gilded saloon
To the burr in the shroud
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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John Masefield He Wrote Long Stories In Rhyme
For many years England's Poet Laureate but that's going back in time
John Masefield he wrote long stories in rhyme
True genius of him none could deny
His great poems to his greatness testify,
In the Literary World John Masefield held in high esteem
Of his era perhaps the poet supreme
As a young man as a deck hand he spent some time at sea
And much of the bigger World out there he did see
His Saltwater Ballads his ticket to fame
And in poetry his became a household name
His last remains in Nature's bosom lay
But his long narrative poems are read and enjoyed today
Far from England's shore by many a Masefield fan
He lives in his poems the great Ledbury man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Sweet School
School is where one learns,
Kowledge is what one earns,
Teachers, friends are a part of school,
Without them, a school, isnt a school,
A teacher's duty is to teach,
And a student's duty is to breach,
When parents get the complain,
The teacher's trust then, gets hard to retain,
Oh! It's recess,
But to her heart there is no access,
Boy tries to impress girl,
But oh! She's a knurl,
Recess is over and class has resumed,
Next exam, God! I am doomed,
I know I won't pass,
Coz I know Im a bass,
Walking back home in the evening,
It feels like my stress is lessening,
Im happy to be home,
Coz there is every place to roam,
Back to school, early in the morning,
I see it is snowing,
I'm back to a place of learning,
Knowlegde is what Im earning,
School is a source of knowlegde,
The best part in my life is being at this stage,
It includes everything,
And it lacks nothing,
Teachers, friends are a part of a school,
Without which a school isn't a school..............
poem by Sherbanu Molu
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