Looking Irish

Because it is Saint Patrick’s Day (and everyone’s Irish today), I’ve decided to poem about it!

There is a fire in my hair
A smoldering ember in my soul
Play with danger if you dare
Know my rage will consume you whole

Many try to match this mane
Bottled dyes from the barber’s chair
This hue they can never gain
There is a fire in my hair

Famine, war, a hardscrabble life
From the sea or mining coal
The flame kept burning through the strife
A smoldering ember in my soul

Perseverance is the key
Go through life on a wing and a prayer
Hear the wail of the banshee
Play with danger if you dare

Heavy is oppression’s yoke
On the outside we play the role
My people are a hardy folk
Know my rage will consume you whole

I’ve got more than my fair share of Irish ancestors. Yeah, I got the hair, fair skin, and mostly not the temper. But that small spark remains and once fanned into full blown anger is a force to be reckoned with. As I’ve gotten older I’m much less likely to burst into a bonfire. In fact there are many who think I’m “safe” meaning they can make cutting remarks or take advantage of me. The truth is that fire is never safe. You can pretend to have mastery but in one unguarded moment your sleeve can catch fire and your life is never the same…

The poem above is a rhyming Cascade. The first stanza’s lines are repeated in order as the last line in subsequent stanzas. I added the rhyme simply because I like a challenge. The 1st stanza can be as long or short as desired but must have a minimum of 3 lines.

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