This island green from sea to ocean
Beyond the pale in perpetual motion
Is free embodied yet in disguise
The white boys hide behind blacked out eyes
Where potato crops failed the rain offered blight
A sympathy of others as more died each night
In famine starvation yet in ignorance
Now standing on the cusp of pure providence
The golfing the yachting all objects of wealth
Are traded exchanged for poor literary health
From O’Casey to Yeats from Collins to Russell
The Celtic tiger once more flexed her muscle
Now feasting on the beast of capitalism
Without concepts of a future vision
Is lost like all the other sheep of this union
Beyond compare and in confusion
This Emerald jewel from crag to mountain
The other worlds door through natures fountain
Is flowing freely but in disregard
For the poorest ones when the days get hard
This notion this dream from Howth to Sneem
The offering up of thickest cream
In hope desperation then resignation
The rising from the ashes of the Irish Nation
Yes, ones poor relations are the measure of a nation. We must remember the 'bad old days.'
amo,
Peter
The Celtic tiger once more flexed her muscle
Now feasting on the beast of capitalism
Without concepts of a future vision
Is lost like all the other sheep of this union
Beyond compare and in confusion
I love your choice of words and imagery, and the title.
Thank you again for the positive comments and feedback. Sometimes the past explains the now and helps to get things into perspective.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/26/2009 11:46PM by Bohemian Poet.
This is a good one, I missed it earlier.
Les