On Reading Poems Of Mangan
Many of his verses tell of his great sadness
The hardships through life he had to endure
He lived in the hungry years of the great famine
And he knew what it was like to be poor.
His father James a Limerick man from Shanagolden
'About that place there is a famous song'
And his mother Catharine Smith from Fishamble Street in Dublin
Quite poor and to poor kindred she belong.
But circumstance of birth doesn't seem to hinder genius
Though wisdom from the poor is seldom quote
And though Mangan's verse today may seem neglected
He surely was a major Irish poet.
He never had his poems published in England
And outside of Ireland he's almost unknown
But his 'Dark Rosaleen' perhaps will live forever
And it took a genius to write such a poem.
He himself said Dark Rosaleen was from the Irish of Costello
And that into English 'Roisin Duibh' he did translate
But many critics say the poem is quite original
And that in any case it lives as something great.
One of Ireland's greatest poets James Clarence Mangan
But in the literary World a near forgotten name
And I have my doubts if there were many better
And he is worthy of a greater fame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Related quotes
Mangan
Arguably the greatest poet old Ireland has seen
'Twas he penned the poem known as 'Dark Rosaleen'
In eighteen forty nine in his mid forties in poverty he died
Though true genius of him never can be denied
The great James Clarence Mangan Ireland's National bard
His journey through life was to say the least hard
He lived as he died in abject poverty
Yet one could not name many poets as great as he
From consumption and poor diet and neglect he died very young
For him no State funeral and he was unsung
Despite his hard life it seems a remarkable feat
That so many great poems the great poet did bequeath
To Ireland and it's people though he died just past his prime
As one of the poor souls of the Dublin of his time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Has To Wonder Why
John Clare was the English language greatest poet of Nature
So much of Nature's ways the man did know
But he died in a mental institution
In Northampton asylum near to fifteen decades ago
Just like Vincent Van Gogh the Dutchman a World renowned artist
His paintings are sold for millions today
Yet he died poor and mentally unstable
At his own hands in quite a tragic way
William Cowper was a literary genius
A man who too was mentally unwell
He never did enjoy the fame he earned
And life for him it was an Earthly hell
James Clarence Mangan is the National Bard of Ireland
He died in mid life at forty six years old
A poor Dubliner in Ireland's years of famine
His death was of consumption we are told
Janet Frame was a great New Zealand writer
But she was seldom happy in her mind
Her life story is not a happy story
Though her equal would be very hard to find
Stephen Foster was America's greatest songwriter
Of him true greatness cannot be denied
But fame in his lifetime failed to make him happy
And 'twas of alcoholic poisoning that he died
Paul Robeson one of the World's greatest singers
He died a very disappointed man
A victim of politics and racism
Yet his fame on it does not have a time span.
Poverty, madness and racism not a barrier to greatness
As the lives of many greats does testify
But in their lives some for their genius not rewarded
And why this should be one has to wonder why?
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Most Famous I Am Poem
The most famous 'I Am' poem came from the pen of John Clare
When in Northampton mental asylum his type of person rare
Since when mentally unwell his best poems he did pen
One of the most amazing in his time of literary men.
The most famous 'I Am' poem of self does not boast
From the pen of one who to self never drunk a toast
A poor and mentally ill and near forgotten man
One close to the end of his tragic life span.
The most famous 'I Am' poem to it has a sad ring
'Tis not of the wonderful life it does sing
Now used as the anthem poem of the mentally ill
The most famous 'I Am' poem life's cup of dark sorrows does fill.
The most famous 'I Am' poem not a great song of life
But of one who had struggled with his inner strife
From the heart of a poor poet a cry of despair
The most famous 'I Am' poem from the pen of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Speranza's Son
His poems and plays are literary gems his quotes popular today
A genius and a great poet with words he had a way
Incarcerated in Reading Jail he lived at a time
When for a man to love another man was looked on as a crime.
His mother was a great poet Speranza was her name
In the Dublin literary circles of her time she was one who knew fame
She gave to the World Oscar Wilde the truly enlightened one
What woman would not feel proud to give birth to such a son.
His father the antiquarian and gifted writer became famed far and wide
And as an expert on human diseases his worth could not be denied
But nowadays he is better known as Oscar's father the wit and literary great
A legend for the ages and one to celebrate.
The Importance of Being Earnest, The Ballad of Reading Jail
and Lady Windermere's Fan
From the pen of Speranza's son the renowned literary man
And though he died as a pauper in Paris from Dublin far away
Through his humorous quotes and insightful writings his legend lives today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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
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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
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Patrick Colum
He penned 'The Old Woman Of The Roads' and 'A Cradle Song'
And to Ireland's best lyricists he surely belong
And his haunting ballad 'She Moved Through The Fair'
With any song ever written is one to compare.
And though to the reaper the poet has long gone
His best poems and lyrics will always live on
He sure was a master of the wordsmith trade
Poets like him are born they cannot be made.
The name of Patrick Colum is a memorable name
Even in his own lifetime he did know great fame
The beauty in his verses is for all to see
A man of great talent who penned great poetry.
Many of his poems are good but his best poems are great
And with the best of Eire he is one to rate
And even in death his fan club does grow
Most lovers of poetry a song or poem of Colum's know.
A legend in death and in his own lifetime
Patrick Colum one who penned quite memorable rhyme
His wonderful gift with the World he did share
A poet of the people and his type are rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Turlough Carolan
He was blind and illiterate that much of him we know
And still his music is with us from centuries ago
He had creative genius and his genius still shine through
A rare gem Turlough Carolan one of the chosen few.
The harper of the county Meath in music live today
His music known around the World in Countries far away
And Carolan's concerto still very much alive
The only test of genius is when their work survive.
The only test of genius is when their work live on
For centuries and centuries when they are dead and gone
And Carolan has passed that test a name to celebrate
His music live three hundred years the genius of the great.
A son of peasant parents and destined to be poor
And though addicted to alcohol his genius remained pure
I like that saying it says it all 'can't keep a good man down'
And the name of Turlough Carolan was destined for renown.
I just switched on the radio to hear the D.J. say
This is a tune from Ireland from Ireland far away
Carolan's farewell to music, oh let the music play
The music of the harper the harper lives today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Lake Poets
You have heard of William Wordsworth he was bard of Cockermouth
And he truly was a great poet if that ever was in doubt
And with Southey and With Coleridge they became known as the lake poets
And they made the Lake District famous and some famous poems they wrote.
Robert Southey was a fine poet he was slave to poetry
And he was for awhile Poet Laureate proves the great poet he must be
And though he is not well known as Coleridge and Wordsworth's is a greater name
He tends to be under rated and deserve a better fame.
And as for Samuel Taylor Coleridge a name verse critics celebrate
His works were born of genius a poetic all time great
The Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner his masterpiece and some say
Is even greater than the famous elegy of Gray
And as for himself Will Wordsworth his fame seem to grow and grow
He has fifty times as many readers nowadays as he had one hundred years ago
When one talks of poets and poetry Wordsworth's name can't be left out
A testimony to the greatness of the Bard of Cockermouth.
Coleridge, Southey and Wordsworth geniuses all three
Their names inscribed in glory and poetic history
They lived in the Lake District that beautiful English country side
And due to the fame of these men the Lake District is known World wide.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Menace
Oh, when the land is white as milk
With bloom that lets no leaf between,
When trees are clad in grass-green silk
And thrushes sing in a gold screen:
What is it ails Dark Rosaleen?
Why is the banshee in the night
Crying for all the young men gone?
Now when the world with bloom is white,
When the good sun's warm on the stone,
Why does the Woman of Death make moan?
As one who is not comforted,
I heard in every lonely glen
Dark Rosaleen cry for her dead
And for her dying race of men.
Dark Rosaleen, take heart again!
For, oh, there's God in His high place
And Patrick seated by His side
To judge with Him the Irish race;
And Columcille, Kieran and Bride
Shall not forget before God's Face.
There's Mary of the Seven Swords,
Queen of the Gael -- oh, many a saint,
With Oliver Plunkett to look towards
The Mercy Seat, with praise and plaint,
For Rosaleen, ever the Lord's.
Oh, weep no more, Dark Rosaleen!
Menace and terror pass you by.
Oh, loved beyond the sceptred queen,
Dark Rosaleen for whom men die!
And loved till death, Dark Rosaleen.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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On Reading Of Racism In Ireland
I always feel disappointed when of racism I read
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their colour or their race.
As the Land of saints and scholars Ireland was known Worldwide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.
Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.
I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.
I am an Irish migrant far from my native shore
And others treat me with respect than that one could not ask for more
A fair go for all people and for everyone fair play
Those words from centuries ago are relevant today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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George Crabbe Wrote Of
George Crabbe wrote of hardship and poverty and woe
In the England he lived in a long time ago
But perhaps his poems might be more popular today
Had he looked at life in a less truthful way.
George Crabbe wrote of children in dire poverty
The poor sad victims of Human cruelty
And the poems full of pathos and the poems full of truth
Of a poet who was blessed with the great gift of ruth.
He wrote of human cruelty to their own kind
A God in the soul of such a person you'll find
He did not write of mythological figures or monarch or squire
He wrote for the poor his type I do admire.
Of the poverty around him he was all too aware
But poets like George Crabbe they have always been rare
Though if you feel a bit down and a good laugh you do need
His poems lacking in Humor are not for you to read.
Of the poor souls of England George Crabbe did write
His poems not hard to understand or to read or recite
And though as a person and poet he was great
Such poets the masses never do celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Most Famous I Am Poem
The most famous I Am poem was penned by John Clare
When he was in Northampton mental asylum and burdened by care
A poem from all others that set him apart
For life's poor and forsaken a cry from the heart,
A poem by an aged poet lost in the lost years
The most famous I Am poem move many to tears
A poem written by one who knew about despair
That poem his reality such poems are rare
The most famous I Am poem tells of an Earthly Hell
Known by the fringe dwellers the mentally unwell
The song of an old poet forsaken and gray
The truth in his words is still living today
And though the renowned old wordsmith to the reaper long gone
His famous I Am poem it is living on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Hell Or To Connacht
To Hell or to Connacht was Cromwells's war cry
To poor Irish tenant farmers his cruel words did apply
Cromwell was a war criminal the facts never lie
To Hell or to Connacht were his words or die.
When Cromwell handed over the command of the Royalist Troops to Henry Ireton the results were the same
In human history their treatment of poor Irish people is a human shame
In their conquests of Ireland thousands of people died
Any form of human rights of them was denied.
Poor Irish tenant farmers were put on the road
To Connacht or to die of no fixed abode
Oliver Cromwell and Henry Ireton were far worse than cruel
They were despotic leaders who abused their rule.
Anyone who knows of history surely do know
Of the atrocities of the Crown forces in Ireland three and a half centuries ago
Cromwell and Ireton were horrible men
They must have been born in the Devil's den.
Some look on past history as over and gone
But in Ireland to Hell or to Connacht those words do live on
And thousands on walking to Connacht died of hunger and cold
The poor and forgotten their life stories untold.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Great Grandma
Great Grandma married Great Grandpa
poor Irish girl and poor Indian man
Great Grandma
used to get beat by Great Grandpa's mom
Great Great Grandma
because Great Great Grandma only spoke an Indian
language and not English.
She got hit by a train.
Lots of us Indians got hit by trains in one way
or another, but this was
literal and not metaphor.
poem by Smack Thompson
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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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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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Oh To Be Wealthy And Famous
Oh to be wealthy and famous living in a big house by the sea
With a Rolls Royce in my garage of money worries quite free
Seen as a successful person with heaps of money to spend
Everyone would want to know me everyone would be my friend.
I could help the poor and needy for others I could do good
I could help you out then poor fellow instead of saying I would help you if I could
Money it speaks every language pity the poor and downtrod
Surely there is nothing greater than money the great paper god.
I could do wonders with money help those in dire poverty
Be an example to others to worthy causes donate generously
Instead I struggle for survival one of the poor of our Street
Life for me an uphill battle struggling for to make ends meet.
Oh to be wealthy and famous the wealthiest man in the Town
I could be generous with money help those financially down
Instead I am just a poor battler who would wish to be my friend
I who must be careful with money and count every dollar I spend?
poem by Francis Duggan
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Almost all the noblest things that have been achieved in the world, have been achieved by poor men; poor scholars, poor professional men, poor artisans and artists, poor philosophers, poets, and men of genius.
quote by Albert Pike
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tom Moore
Moore found the ballads of Green Isle,
Were oft obscured beneath the soil
As miner digging in a mine
Finds rubbish 'mong the gold so fine.
So Moore placed dross in the waste basket
And enshrined jewels in casket,
Where all may view each charming gem
In Ireland's grand old diadem.
In eastern lands his fame prevails
In wondrous Oriental tales ;
So full of gems his Lala Rookh
Hindoos and Bramins read his book,
And dark eyed Persian girls admire
The beauties of his magic lyre
Glowing like pearls of great price
Those distant gleams of Paradise.
He sang of Bryan Borohm's glory,
Renowned in ancient Irish story,
And shows the wide expanded walls
Which once encircled Tara's Halls
When joyous harp did there resound
And Ireland's greatest king was crowned
All wars and tumults then did cease,
Ireland did prosper great in peace.
He sung of meeting of the waters,
And of Ireland's charming daughters ;
Great minstrel from his harp both flows
Ireland's triumphs and her woes ;
Canada doth his fame prolong,
While she doth sing his great boat song.
And his own countrymen adore
The genial, witty, bright Tom Moore.
poem by James McIntyre
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