The Irish in America


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A Day in the Bog

Another lovely poem from Seamus Hora: “Just a few memories of a day in the bog…”

A Day in the Bog

The scent of the bacon
From the cast iron pan,
The sweetest of tea
Brewed in the sweet can.

The tiny skylark
Without effort he flew
Soaring and soaring
Disappearing from view.

The hare with ears pricked
Observing the scene,
The corncrake call
From meadows so green.

The curlew cried out
In so many ways;
Indication of weather
For upcoming days

The pealing of church bells
Announced the midday,
Far distant whistle
Said trains on the way.

Just a few memories
Of a day in the bog;
Yes those were the sweetest
The rest was a slog.

Seamus Hora

About the poet…

Seamus Hora was born in Gorthaganny, County Roscommon. He has been employed by same company, Delaneys Ltd in Ballyhaunis, County Mayo, for 44 years. He has lived in Ballyhaunis for over 20 years. Seamus is married to Rosaleen and the couple has one daughter, Sandra. Seamus only recently started to write poetry. and he bases his poems on his life experience. He values feedback and would like to hear what people think of his poem…just leave a comment!

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Where Were You?

Last November 24th was the 50th anniversary of the assassination of President of the United States John F. Kennedy. Many people took a moment on this anniversary to remember where they were when they heard the news.

We recently received an email from Seamus Hora from County Mayo in response to our blog post. He sent along a wonderful poem he wrote describing “where I was when I learned of the sad news of the tragic passing of President J F Kennedy.”

Detroit Tigers v Washington Senators

Where Were You

 

In my mind I see him clearly

As he stood inside the door

We sat and gazed in silence

At the sad news that he bore.

 

We all were fascinated

By this man from USA

Honoured by a visit.

From charismatic JFK

 

The worlds greatest speaker

Simple words-But oh so true.

For a country to be proud of

You must make an effort too.

 

He promised as he left us,

He would return again someday

But a sniper from a window

Sadly had the final say.

 

We had no television

But felt that we were there

For coverage was provided

By the great Michael O Hehir

 

I was playing bingo

The clock had just struck ten

The gambling house Mulrennans

The bearer; Our late friend Eamon Quinn

 

by: Seamus Hora

Seamus Hora was born in Gorthaganny, County Roscommon. He has been employed by same company, Delaneys Ltd in Ballyhaunis, County Mayo, for 44 years. He has lived in Ballyhaunis for the past 20 years. Seamus is married to Rosaleen and the couple has one daughter, Sandra. Seamus only recently started to write poetry. and he bases his poems on his life experience. He values feedback and would like to hear what people think of his poem. Please leave a comment!

Thank you, Seamus, for sharing your poem! Stay tuned to the blog for my profile of Monica Wood, the author of the beautiful memoir, When We Were the Kennedys, later this month. You will also have the chance to win a copy of the book!


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DAY 24: W.B. Yeats

Think I am running out of favorite things? Not a chance! I have saved the best for the last seven days.

WB-Yeats-001

William Butler Yeats has been my favorite Irish poet for a long time. I guess I am not very original in my love for Yeats, but I don’t care. It just does not get any better.

In college I had to memorize and recite a poem in a literature course. This assignment mortified me, but I chose this poem, and everything was fine.

For Anne Gregory

by William Butler Yeats

“Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.”

“But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair.”

“I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.”

Yeats' Grave at Drumcliff churchyard, Sligo

Yeats’ Grave at Drumcliff churchyard, Sligo