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St. Patrick’s Day, 2025

While swathed in swirls of green, some raise a glass
Of dark elixir topped with sheeny cream.
Some twirl through Derry streets and Kerry grass
In dreams ablaze with leprechauns that beam
With larks as lilting harps spill silver tunes
Of mountain thyme with shivers of delight.

Some conjure shamrock scenes eclipsed by moons—
Those snakeless years of cheer before the plight
Of folks now ruled by fork-tongued gods of care—
Those scaly saviors—givers of the gold
Plundered from their people forced to stare
At homeless kin left begging in the cold
While seekers suck their isle of emerald dry—
All warm and fed, tucked up in readied beds.

Some pray this quaint and saintly day won’t die—
A fear that wearies many worried heads.
Some know that smiling eyes and Gaelic glee
Are made to shine for all eternity.

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Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.

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5 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    You have made me aware of the plight of the Irish who are squeezed by the hand of the devil dervish. May “shamrock scenes” and leprechaun schemes
    perpetually bring Gaelic glee as the legendary stories are told and retold to future generations of Irish lads and lasses.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Thank you for your comment, Roy. “The plight of the Irish” is the plight of every nation that still has a culture to hold on to in this wicked war stoked by the racist rulers, jet-setting around the world and dining on beef in their paid-for-by-the-people penthouse while selling multiculturalism to the peasants buying their shiny, happy care package. My heart bleeds for the Irish. May they hang on to their identity and beat those who only agree with the tribal mentality if it’s their own tribe at stake.

      Reply
  2. Joseph S. Salemi

    A nice celebratory piece for St. Patrick’s Day, and also a soft-spoken lament for the miseries that afflict contemporary Ireland.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Joe, thank you! You’ve hit the nail on the head with the tone of my poem – it’s “nice”. My excellent secondary-school English teacher once told me he loathed the word “nice” and I should never settle for “nice”. I am grateful for your honesty, which makes me sorry I have let my English teacher down. I wanted to scream from the rooftops for the cruel and wicked predicament foisted upon the Irish. I wanted to stand up for all my Irish friends and their children. I wanted to stand up for Mike’s history and for my own. Instead, I settled for “nice” because I didn’t want to detract from the beautiful celebrations by highlighting the deliberate sabotage of the Irish culture and the stealing of their land and identity by globalists who loath nationalism and the sovereign individual… unless it’s their own. Multi-culturalism for thee but not for me, shout those who know their strength lies in the eradication of all we the people stand for. I also wanted to stand up for the migrants promised utopia on a dark path to ruin. Your comment is a huge wake up call for me to never play it safe for the sake of peace while we’re in the midst of a war.

      Reply
  3. Jeff Eardley

    Susan, you have highlighted the plight of the decimation of Irish culture, but on this day, we can all quaff a glass or two, bash out a few tunes, rewatch “Riverdance” and chill out with a few choice episodes of “Father Ted.” Your poem is so much more than “nice” Thank you.

    Reply

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