I am green Irish on all sides of the family. For St. Patrick’s Day, I wrote this poem to honor my Irish relatives.
I was lucky to spend
much of my childhood
around my great grandparents,
grandparents, and great aunts and uncles.
A hard-working and
hard living bunch.
They drove Chryslers that had
automatic pilot settings
that guided them to
Thistledown and Northfield
horse races on weekends
and to the lottery store
and family card parties
after the workday.
I truly hit the lottery
with this group,
because they instilled
working-class values in me.
Anyone of my Irish relatives
no questions asked would
give you the shirt off their back.
Of course the garment
would have been soaked
in honest sweat,
tobacco aroma,
whiskey stains
and had an ace or two
pinned inside the sleeves.
Their lives were cut short
by the hard work they did
and their hard play
that eased the workday pains.
They’re all gone
but never for gotten.
Bless you all!
10 things you didn’t know about St. Patrick’s Day.
Black 47: “James Connolly”
Irish Descendents: “Come Out You Black and Tans”
I’m troubled, I’m dissatisfied. I’m Irish! ~ Marianne Moore
Elecpencil 