Before I ever visited Ireland, I wrote a poem about it. This was many years before I sat foot on Ireland’s Shore. The irony of this poem is that it came to me in a dream, and the ending is very much how I felt when I left Ireland twenty years later. My children drew my back to America, but Ireland calls to me still.
Is féidir teacht ar do aisling fíor. – May your dreams come true. – RG
Ireland’s Shore
Warm fire upon the ocean
Cool stars up in the sky
Arms reach out to enfold her
Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.
Strong oak all but forgotten
Ghosts on the barren, rock strewn land
Call her name, but just a whisper
Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.
Soft mist entwines the cliffs
The harp sounds low and sweet
Whispers echoed by pipe and flute
Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.
Pulsing tempo of the music
Her heart quickens to the beat
Sings to her a song of yearning
Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.
Bards and poets call to her
Their voices plead incessantly
Stir the longings of her soul
Ever nearer to Ireland’s shore.
Firm earth beneath her feet
This moment long awaited
Standing on ancestral ground
Finally reaching Ireland’s shore.
She feels the ages light a flame
The passion flows, in her ancestral blood
Tales of ancient days
Hold her fast to Ireland’s shore.
Bright the dawn, sad the morn
Tears course and tear her soul
She bids farewell with one last glance
So disappears Ireland’s shore.
© Ireland’s Shore – copywrite – RG Calkins 1978
lisafender said,
March 16, 2013 at 10:14
I love it! Excellent! You sure have been into poetry lately, but it looks like you’re good at it!
RGCalkins said,
March 16, 2013 at 11:41
Thanks Lisa!
Jody said,
March 17, 2013 at 21:03
Very moving
RGCalkins said,
March 17, 2013 at 21:08
Thank you 🙂