Poems for All Occasions Read online

  The school teacher,John O’Sullivan,

  Who hailed from Limerick fair,

  Gave America four of its finest,

  Governors, general, attorney.

  In the Civil War in U.S.A ,

  Philip Sheridan from Cavan town,

  Proved to be a general great

  Won fame and wide renown.

  The list is long and treasured,

  From New York to Paciffic shores.

  Their names will live forever

  For bravery always adored.

  FATHER EDWARD FLANAGAN AND BOYS’TOWN

  Ballymoe near the Galway border,

  Reared a staunch outstanding son,

  His name was Edward Flanagan

  Great renown, for deeds he won.

  In Omaha, Nebraska,

  Trojan work for homeless boys,

  In them he saw no evil,

  Building up their ego with pride.

  He established Boystown projects,

  To help young chaps at risk,

  ‘Twas many the lad he saved, secured,

  From slavery and early deaths.

  Trades and small time industry,

  Set up to employ these boys,

  Like the late Saint John Bosco,

  Fr. Ed. all odds defied.

  The year was nineteen forty eight,

  When suddenly he died,

  Close by the walls of Old Berlin,

  Europe’s war orphans cried.

  He relished his beloved Ballymoe,

  The place which gave him birth,

  His name will live at home and abroad.

  Father Flanagan, we’ll ne’er forget.

  EAMON DE VALERA

  Eamon De Valera,

  Born of an Irish Mother,

  A Spanish father.

  Loved by millions,

  Hated by few.

  Talented Statesman.

  Manhattan sunlight,

  His first view,

  Into a world, he knew

  One day he would

  Come back to home.

  Home in his beloved Erin.

  Proud Commandant

  In 1916 Rising;

  his death sentence,

  by Crown Forces,

  commuted, because

  British authorities

  Unsure of his nationality.

  Scared they were of the

  Land of his birth,

  Noble, loyal America,

  Second home to the Irish Race.

  Dev,elected Sinn Fein MP,

  For East Clare in 1917.

  But greater things in line;

  June 25th, 1959, elected

  President of the Emerald Isle.

  Dev, tall, Irish to the core,

  Spoke his Gaelic with guttural style.

  Gentle giant, seldom smiled,

  Scared his British rivals,

  Until his final departure,

  He bid us all adieu,

  At the gallant age of 92.

  May he rest in peace

  Till we meet once again,

  With the saints of Ireland

  Patrick, Brid, and Colmcille.

  1947—FROM THE POLO GROUNDS, NEW YORK

  THE MATCH BETWEEN KERRY AND CAVAN

  The year was ’47, our wireless on a mat,

  Lay neath the kitchen window ,around it we all sat.

  Eight of us and Dad and Mum, with neighbours chocker block,

  Listening to the gallant game from the Polo Grounds New York.

  Our hearts, they beat for Kerry, but Cavan won with dare,

  I can almost hear the wild applause and beloved Micheál O’Heihir,

  Great, outstanding were our boys, how proud, indeed, were we,

  Jim Brosnan, Dowling and Keohane, Gega and Dan O’Keefe.

  As far as I can recollect, the Ref. was named “O’Neill”

  But Cavan too, had mighty men, how they could kick and leap.

  Duignan, Tighe,O’Donoghue, and the great man called “John Joe”

  Gunner Brady, Stafford brave, Gannon and many more.

  Though I was only a small wee girl ,to me they were the best,

  Radio Eireann brought into our homes excitement, joy and jest,

  To me that wee black radio was the greatest gift from God

  My heart it beat so fast and throbbed, what a brilliant game it was.

  THE GREAT JACK DEMPSEY

  World famous as “Non Pareil”

  Was born as Jack Kelly in 1892.

  But made his mark in the boxing world

  Fresh and fearless through and through.

  With a brain so clear, he fought with ease

  From 1886 to ’91,

  Ed McDonald’s dreams in smiderreens

  Jack floored them one by one.

  Jack Boyland came from Flushing Bay.

  Three and twenty rounds of sweat,

  Which poured in drops from both their brows

  Our Jack Dempsey won all bets.

  Then came the French Canadian.

  La Blanche, the Boston Marine,

  Who held a formidable record,

  And deemed mighty hard to beat.

  But Jack sent forth a powerful punch,

  La Blanche lay on his back,

  He rolled about and groaned so loud,

  For Jack he was no match.

  Johnny Regan great was next in line,

  On the shores of Long Island fought,

  Thirty two rounds with class, the tide came in fast

  Regan unconscious, distraught.

  The very last time, Jack was inside the ropes,

  An exhibition he sparred with pride,

  June,’95 ‘gainst John L. Sullivan,

  Five months later Jack Dempsey died.

  ‘Twas November the first, All Saints’ Day,

  In the year of Our Lord ‘95,

  the cursed disease, known as T.B.

  Forever closed Jack Dempsey’s eyes.

  (’95 referred to was 1895)

  IRISH WRESTLERS

  Irish men of physical strength,

  Won great fame and renown,

  World records were smashed by them,

  Opponents lay on the ground.

  First to mind, comes O’Sullivan Don,

  The “Galway Wonder “ was he,

  With jaws and teeth, great chains he’s meet,

  Whirling them in circles neat.

  Tipperary man Art McCabe,

  Born in eighteen O2,

  Stood 6 foot 3, weighed 16 stone,

  Victory easily did woo.

  He defeated America’s mighty man,

  Ben Tennan, stout and tall,

  Lifted a platform, heavy as lead,

  On it twelve men in all.

  Let’s not forget the Kerryman,

  From Sneem’s own lovely vale,

  His name it was Steve Casey,

  A wrestler of great fame.

  His name will live in his native Sneem,,

  As long as birds still fly,

  The list of famous Irish men,

  Would fill folders, disks and files.

  HEROES IN THE RING

  Gentleman Jim Corbett,

  Heavy weight boxer with class,

  His Dad from Tuam in Galway,

  His Mother a Dublin Lass.

  Boston Strong Boy,the great John L.,

  Tralee was home to his Dad,

  Who married a girl from fair Athlone,

  Ten years John reigned as champ.

  From Kiltimagh in lovely Mayo

  Gene Tunney’s Parents came,

  World heavy weight boxing champ,

  A champion full of dare.

  Last , but perhaps the “GREATEST,”

  As often he himself declared,

  Muhammad Ali, three times world champ,

  His Grandad,O’Grady from Clare.

  HENRY FORD

  In the Rebel county of Cork,

  Evicted from home one day,

  Wa
s a man and his wife, heartbroken they

  ‘Cause they had no where else to stay.

  In a coffin ship from lonely Cobh,

  Thomasina and John set out

  To brave the broad Atlantic foam,

  A new land they dreamed about.

  The Fords though young and gullible,

  Worked hard and luck came their way,

  Gave birth to the gifted Henry,

  In Michigan one fine day.

  His name will live forever,

  While the world’s roads run by,

  His cars are sound, reliable,

  A motorist’s pride and joy.

  FAMOUS IRISH INVENTORS

  Many names of Irishmen,

  Are in the book of fame,

  Inventors great in every field,

  For deeds, with world acclaim.

  Who built the the very first telegraph line,

  Henry O’Reilly, his name,

  The inventor, Morse, of telegraph

  Was grandson of an Irish male.

  The submarine was invented ,

  By a Clare man, a Fenian too,

  His name was John P.Holland,

  An Irishman true and true.

  The great relief for farmers,

  Was the machine to reap and bind,

  Invented by Mc Cormick,

  His Grandad an Irish boy.

  Roger Bresnihan,a Kerry man,

  Baseball’s finest players,

  Invented shin-guards, put to use

  Saving Men from cuts and graze.

  John Howard Kyan, A Dubliner,

  Around eighteen thirty four,

  Processed wood, named “Kyanising”

  The likes never seen before.

  Though Times were hard and tedious,

  Those men from Ireland’s shores,

  Used their brains and intellect,

  More precious than priceless gold.

  FAMOUS IRISH FILM STARS

  MAUREEN O’HARA

  And other film stars of fame

  Fiery red head,

  tall beautiful,

  Dublin’s daughter,

  eighty years young,

  Still charming,

  With her Irish lilt

  And sea blue eyes.

  “The Quiet Man,”

  The strains of

  The isle of Innisfree

  Won all hearts

  At home and abroad.

  Bringing laughter

  Re Mary Kate Danagher,

  Whose teasing flirtation

  Stole John Wayne’s affection,

  Her wild Irish customs

  And her childlike mannerisms

  Mixed with innocence

  So beautiful long ago…

  Her very first Movie

  “Jamaica Inn”

  When Hollywood realized

  This Irish maid

  Was there to stay

  until to day,

  Fifty plus films later.

  Hollywood’s Irish Greats.

  Irish wit, good humour,

  Made actors second to none,

  Frank Quinn produced young Anthony,

  He proudly called him “Son”.

  The Cagney Dad, a barman,

  In New York, he filled the jars,

  Fathered our childhood idol,

  James the man for spars.

  Martin Sheen’s beloved Mum,

  She came from Borrisokane,

  In the county of Tipperary,

  A county of hurling fame.

  Delaney was his Mammy’s name,

  Kevin Kline from Louis, Missouri,

  Harrison Ford had an Irish Mum

  Catholic and good humoured.

  How many tears of joy we wept,

  At Charlie Chaplin’s antics,

  From his Mother,Hannah Hill from Cork,

  Inherited his gifted acting.

  Walt Disney, who gave us Donald Duck,

  As well as the mouse named “Mickey”

  Was born to an Irish country lass,

  Mary Richardson young and pretty..

  Then Patrick Duffy, the gorgeous Pat,

  Hitchcock from Emma Whelan,

  Maureen O’Sullivan and Tyrone Power,

  Gregory Peck sent hearts a leaping.

  So proud we were of the Crooner,Bing,

  And the smiling Barry Fitzgerald,

  We loved to hear the former sing,

  The latter brought such laughter.

  I could go on about many more,

  Who proved their worth as actors,

  Their fame has spread in many shores,

  Erin’s lovely sons and daughters.

  GRACE KELLY

  Beautiful Grace, Princess of Monaco,

  Swan like in shape, actress supreme,

  From the County Mayo, Ireland’s western coast,

  Her ancestors sailed in a foul famine boat.

  They were hardworking people, loyal to their faith,

  And in the Old land of Erin, the name ”Kelly” was great.

  The blonde, beautiful Grace, Monaco’s uncrowned queen,

  Met her death on the road, ruined her life’s dream.

  ST. PATRICK’S DAY, 1992

  St. Patrick‘s Day is blooming around this lovely globe,

  But it can be a lonesome time for parents on their own,

  A family stays close with you, when they are young and small,

  But all too soon they disappear, sweet memories we recall.

  I guess it‘s just what life entails, from the beginning of this life

  Parents rear their children and like birds they learn to fly.

  And float away far from their nests and find friends and foes alike,

  Forgetting the old birds at home, who miss their fledglings bright

  To day I feel nostalgic, I miss my kin and home,

  I watch the parades through out the world, and still feel quite alone

  But I am only one of those many lonely beings,

  who sit at home in silence,

  And slumber in by gone dreams.

  CLIMBING CROAGH PATRICK IN CO.MAYO

  (Croagh Patrick , where St.Patrick spent 40 days and 40 nights)

  In the eerie light of early dawn,

  Standing, one gazes in awe.

  One’s spirit seems to falter

  At the glimpse of the summit tall,

  Soaring high into the open sky

  On this the final Sunday in July.

  Shadows creeping near you,

  Movement as pilgrims walk,

  Some are bent with sticks in hand

  Faces serious, minds in thought.

  The three hour climb is starting,

  A head, a line of pilgrims talk,

  Tapping with stick on stone and twig,

  Following the footsteps of Patrick’s walk.

  They kneel and pray, then climb with dare,

  Two and a half thousand feet above,

  Here Patrick cared with love, his sheep,

  Gazing down on the desolate moors.

  The fields of Murrisk, to Erris Hill,

  Clew Bay so far beneath,

  forty days and forty nights,

  St. Patrick prayed with zeal.

  O’er the wind swept crest in Mayo,

  Midst the Baa Baa from the sheep,

  Demons in shape of black evil birds,

  Swooped down by the young boy’s feet.

  He chanted psalms to beat them,

  Then rang his bell, they say,

  Angel Victor came from up above,

  The demons fled in haste.

  An Angel came as a pure white bird,

  Illuminating fair Clew Bay.

  EASTER IN IRELAND

  Easter time in Ireland

  Is a time of love and peace,

  Sharing all our dreams with you,

  And wishing you good cheer,

  Sunshine‘s rays o‘er Ireland,

  Brightening glen and dale,

  Ba
by lambs are bleating,

  Welcoming Easter Days.

  Daffodils, like gold dust

  Adorn each dyke and ditch,

  Chickens and cuddly ducklings

  Shelter ‘neath Mother‘s wings.

  Joy is in each feature,

  Easter is in the air,

  Streams like layers of silver,

  Adorn our land so fair.

  THE BEAN SHEE( BEAN SÍ)

  Ireland’s Bean Shee, our fairy woman,

  Greyhaired spirit,long haired and crying,

  Her weird loud scream sends many shivers

  Through minds still wondering whose next to die?

  She only comes when true Gaels are leaving

  Their earthly world to go on high.

  The old weird woman comes a calling

  For the Macs and O’s, the Celtic tribe.

  Her shrill Ochone speeds past the windows,

  Mournful, keening, her gown long and white.

  A face so withered, with wrinkles many,

  This weird old lady, death’s own guide.

  Twice I’ve heard her wail and mourning,

  Scared to death, indeed was I,

  Some hours later, two of my neighbours

  Went forth to God,’neath a midnight sky.

  IN MEMORY OF JOHN F. KENNEDY. {NOV. 1963}

  Six grey steeds trotted by,

  Stately, noble, their heads held high,

  Lying in a coffin, which they bore,

  A president silenced for ever more.

  His voice still lingers in memory lane,

  His smile we see, his thick brown hair,

  That Irish twinkle, that won all hearts,

  The sense of humour of President Jack.

  Each home is mourning the world o’er.

  Each heart is praying and feeling sore,

  All humans shudder with sad dismay,

  The loss of that statesman from the U.S.A.,

  A wonderful father and husband is gone,

  Leaving his loved ones to carry on,

  Tears are falling like lashing rain,

  Two little orphans are waiting in vain.

  Their darling parents bade them goodbye,

  Mammy returned with tears in her eyes.

  But where is their Daddy they loved to greet,

  An Assassin’s bullet ended his deeds.

  Lonely, a beautiful girl in black,

  Her loved one is gone, and will never be back,

  She gazes upon him, longing to say,

  We’re parted a Stor, we’ll meet once again.

  When God in the heavens will send out a call,

  “Come forward my friends, I welcome you all”