Plog …. ( Poetry blog)

Stay tuned more Plogs or (Poetry blogs) on the way….stay safe !

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John Donne # Kevin Barry # Dusty & Walter Spanghero

Fox cubs at play
In sad Knockanure
A vixen sits still
A pigeon to lure
Cutting my logs
I reopened the day
When me and my dogs
Passed on our way
Death, be not proud
Oh great John Donne
Puffed up with pride
Soon you shall be gone
The hour has gone back
Now winter is here
Lake water laps
In old Dromineer
One hundred years
Since they killed Kevin Barry
Some bold fenian men
His soul for to carry
Hazel and blonde
Dusty had soul
We know that the blues
Became rock n roll
‘Tis said we have links
With far distant pharaohs
France had a king
Named Walter Spanghero.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte !

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Fungie # Terence MacSwiney.

Soft weeping willows
Tickle the Boyne
The clash of the ash
And Rose of Mooncoin
Fungie has vanished
Our dear dolphin friend
God’s speed on your travels
Till we meet again
Six weeks of lockdown
We’re at level five
A real circuit break
Our worlds to revive
Winds to the south
Are pounding at Mizen
Roaring like bulls
The dead have arisen
Friday and grief
Sloped Knocknaheeny
Buried that day
Brave Terence MacSwiney
Bernadette, Ian
Strife and The Troubles
Forty years on
New social bubbles
A lad from Fermanagh
On the Orient Express
Drank four pints of vodka
Then cleaned up at chess.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Fingers in The Jam # Dolores # Mick Collins & More

A crew of green angels
On the MV Kerlogue
Survivors rejoiced
They saw Tír na nÓg
Stardust and moonlight
In dear Portavogie
Sipping hot port
With shipwright and fogey
The plan was first known
By Stanislaus Joyce
John the great tenor
Drove a Rolls Royce
Dolores’ notes
And letting it linger
Pump up The Jam
And Stiff Little Fingers
Arms trials and Charvet
One gas P J Mara
The old Black Pig’s Dyke
God bless Abbeylara
October sixteenth
Bright as the morn
Eighteen and ninety
Mick Collins was born
A new birthday boy
We know him as Durkan
A poet supreme
He never stops workin.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Matt Connor # Bunratty Castle # Bressie

Margaret Mc Curtain
To J C McQuaid
She made herself clear
And history was made
It’s Mental Health Day
Darkness to Light
With troopers like Bressie
The future looks bright
Offaly’s Matt Connor
Now there is a hero
Shot down in his prime
He never scored zero
Old carbide lamps
A glow in Kircubbin
Socks on the range
Iron pots and Dubbin
Lockdown is on
All’s quiet in Belgooly
Guards driving round
In search of a hooley
Skulling black stout
Below in Bunratty
I ran seven miles
Not bad for a fatty
Ill-fated Icarus
His doomed wings of wax
Just even the thought
You’d go in your cacks.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Freddie # Jimmy Kennedy # John Lennon

Hay ropes being turned
In sheds in Drumshanbo
Then in to the fire
Strong tea and fresh sambos
O’Reilly from Meath
Was singing Matt Hyland
Diving for crabs
A mile off Clare Island
Autumn’s soft shades
Enchanting Rathvilly
A poet’s lost dreams
No gilding of lilies
Freddie on vocals
Opera-like Queen
Wembley was awesome
The best ever seen
Red sails in the Sunset
Way out on the bay
An Irishman’s lyrics
Down Mexico Way
With Dom Perignon
I’m double O Seven
A fine Montecristo
Be Godn that’s heaven
Beatle John Lennon
Is four score today
Peace? Just Imagine
And love all the way.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Derek Mahon # Eddie Van Halen # Barney

The commander in chief
Has met with corona
It has no respect
For rank or persona
Poet Derek Mahon
Walked through the gate
A list of fine poems
We shall ruminate
The vixen-like shrieks
Of piper Moloney
Aided on high
By dapper Chris Droney
Rhythm and blues
The whole nine yards
Preaching Phil Harris
And one deck of cards
Out for revenge
Devouring each rogue
Three Black and Tans
One did malavogue
White haired Joe Biden
And big Donald Trump
Eddie Van Halen
You might as well Jump
An alien came down
And raised his antennas
On hearing the tinkling
Of Barney McKenna.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Síoda # Finbar & The Green Fields of France.

Sun in September
A gift from above
To a wondrous creator
We send out our love
A gorgeous Burnese
The passing of Síoda
I hear a lament
Played by O Ríada
White Gold Coast waves
Well known to rip it
A trick old as peat
Blind meadow pipit
Shehy’s fair heather
First saw the Lee
Flow on like silver
And sing with the sea
The great Finbar Furey
Is seventy four
The Green Fields of France
Some blues and lots more
Thousands approaching
Our docks to depart
Golden spike through
The buffalo’s heart
O’Rahilly charged
Full tilt at his foe
His house was torn down
For progress…how low.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Bruce #John Bonham # Joey Dunlop

Springsteen the Boss
Is seventy one
Some troubadour
Some son of a gun
Pied beauty made
Rose moles on trout
All dappled things
Not ones to pout
Way down Tom Waits
And his Grapefruit Moon
One Star Shining
With gravelesque croon
Thumping John Bonham
No picker of crumbs
Forty years gone
A beast on the drums
No place on deck
For filthy coal stokers
Reserved for the cream
And fine Cuban smokers
Harebells are hanging
In western grykes
One step from heaven
Alpine hay pikes
Isle of Man’s king
A life at the top
A rocket on wheels
Joey Dunlop.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.

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Ruth Bader Ginsburg # Sam Bennett # Andy Ripley

Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Dropped her last gavel
Exalted on high
The truth to unravel
Lynhams turn fifty
My old local shop
Serving a Taoiseach
And spiffing ice pops
Sam Bennett the man
Won green for us all
Roche and Seán Kelly
Are having a ball
He loved her so dearly
A joy for each man
Scented was Martha
The Flower of Strabane
I took to the park
With Ripley of England
He ran like the wind
Like Crossan and Ringland
London is burning
So said the Clash
Country was dope
With big Johnny Cash
Oh Ladybird fair
Or ‘God’s little cow’
That’s what ’tis known as
There you are now.

Beidh mé ar ais…Sláinte.