Happy St. Patrick's Day Friend

Happy St. Patrick's Day Friend

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY WEEK TOO ALL IRISH OR IRISH AT HEART

I would like to dedicate these poems for my dear friend Kevin Soenksen's

Grandfather Cornelius "Con" Mulligan

"A Father, A Grandfather, and a Beloved Friend"

Traditional Irish Blessing and Toast

May the road rise up to meet you,
May the wind be ever at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rain fall softly on your fields
And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the hollow of his hand

The rest are some Irish Poems I thought you might like because I did.

An Irish Prayer (funny)

May those who love us, love us;
and those who don't love us,
may God turn their hearts;
and if He doesn't turn their hearts,
may he turn their ankles
so we'll know them by their limping.

An Irish Funeral Prayer

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again.

An Olde Irish Wish

May the raindrops fall lightly on your brow
May the soft winds freshen your spirit
May the sunshine brighten your heart
May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you
And may God enfold you in the mantle of His love.

An Irish Poem

GALLAGHER'S FIELD

We used to swim
at Gallagher's Field,
where the bottom
was almost bare,
of the river and of
the swimmers who swam
when the sun
and the Summer
were there;
and I try to remember,
whenever I can,
that I cannot remember
a care.

Posted: 8:51 p.m. EST March 10, 2006 by Anne Meesriyong