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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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2 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
  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

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