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A Celtic Miscellany
By Thomas McCarthy
Magic rain magic mist magic dew magic hail
Magic darkness magic sea magic waves magic
River magic fountain magic well magic spring
That bursts forth when a magic spear pierces
Rock magic oak tree magic ash magic lime tree
Magic bough magic yew magic hawthorn...
St. Patrick's Day
By Derek Mahon
1

Down the long library each marble bust
shines unregarded through a shower of dust
where a grim ghost paces for exercise
in wet weather: nausea, gout, ‘some days
I hardly think it worth my time to rise’.
Not even the...
Saint Patrick’s Again
By Denise Low
Live jazz at El Fresco is one guy, electric plinks,
until he turns off the switch, closes his eyes,

and warbles a boy’s tenor, wood-flute tones,
pure séance hymns from before Christians.

Rowdies at the bar stop fighting and stare
as seawater...
Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey
By Hayden Carruth
Scrambled eggs and whiskey
in the false-dawn light. Chicago,
a sweet town, bleak, God knows,
but sweet. Sometimes. And
weren’t we fine tonight?
When Hank set up that limping
treble roll behind me
my horn just growled and I
thought my heart would burst.
And Brad M. pressing with...
Killary Harbor
By Peter Balakian
I drove through the narrow Gods—
privet and cholesterol, or
Irish creamery butter as the waiter

called it, as it shaved another day
off my life. There was no salt
and antimony, just lumpy roads

through Meath and Leitrim.
The sky was a show of flashing
mirrors as...
The Lost Land
By Eavan Boland
I have two daughters.

They are all I ever wanted from the earth.

Or almost all.

I also wanted one piece of ground:

One city trapped by hills. One urban river.
An island in its element.

So I could say mine. My own.
And mean it.

Now they...
A Drinking Song
By William Butler Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
St. Patrick’s Day: With an Irish Shamrock
By Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna
From the region of zephyrs, the Emerald isle,
The land of thy birth, in my freshness I come,
To waken this long-cherished morn with a smile,
And breathe o’er thy spirit the whispers of home.
O welcome the stranger from Erin’s green...
St. Patrick’s Day
By Eliza Cook
St. Patrick’s Day! St. Patrick’s Day!
Oh! thou tormenting Irish lay—
I’ve got thee buzzing in my brain,
And cannot turn thee out again.
Oh, mercy! music may be bliss
But not in such a shape as this,
When all I do, and all I say,
Begins...
St. Patrick’s Day
By Jean Blewett
There’s an Isle, a green Isle, set in the sea,
     Here’s to the Saint that blessed it!
And here’s to the billows wild and free
     That for centuries have caressed it!

Here’s to the day when the men that roam
     Send longing...
Corned Beef and Cabbage
By George Bilgere
I can see her in the kitchen,
Cooking up, for the hundredth time,
A little something from her
Limited Midwestern repertoire.
Cigarette going in the ashtray,
The red wine pulsing in its glass,
A warning light meaning
Everything was simmering
Just below the steel lid
Of her smile, as...
Song
By James Joyce
My love is in a light attire
     Among the apple trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
     To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo
     The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
     Her...
Game Night
By Conor O'Callaghan
Love not
being in the loop.

Grant the spruces’ wish,
the golf compound
graying out of use,
suvs in the it lot,
power outage,
a chorus from the quad.

Bless the elsewhere
where others are
not here or you.

And rain
after midnight . . .
Ask yourself,
is that rain or bells?
Sober Song
By Barton Sutter
Farewell to the starlight in whiskey,
So long to the sunshine in beer.
The booze made me cocky and frisky
But worried the man in the mirror.
Goodnight to the moonlight in brandy,
Adieu to the warmth of the wine.
I think I can finally stand...
Down By the Salley Gardens
By William Butler Yeats
Down by the salley gardens
   my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens
   with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy,
   as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish,
   with her would not agree.

In a field by...
Easter Week
By Joyce Kilmer
"Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave."
Then, Yeats, what gave that Easter dawn
A hue so radiantly brave?

There was a rain of blood that day,
Red rain in gay blue...
I Found a Four-Leaf Clover
By Jack Prelutsky
I found a four-leaf clover
and was happy with my find,
but with time to think it over,
I’ve entirely changed my mind.
I concealed it in my pocket,
safe inside a paper pad,
soon, much swifter than a rocket,
my good fortune turned to bad.

I...
The Little Waves of Breffny
By Eva Gore-Booth
The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea,
And there is traffic in it and many a horse and cart,
But the little roads of Cloonagh are dearer far to me,
And the little roads of Cloonagh go rambling through...

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poetry-magazineGame Night

A Celtic Miscellany

Game Night