Poetry competition CLOSED 28th February 2020 8:49pm
WINNER
midevil
midevil
Happy St. Patrick's Day
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem for St. Patrick's Day
The March show (episode 11) is coming up folks, and we would like to again offer up the hallowed end spot of the show to feature your poetry on the podcast. The podcast goes out on multiple platforms including Spotify and Apple Podcasts, so it’s great exposure.
If you've not heard the podcast yet you can listen to past episodes here: https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/podcasts/
It is the month of St. Patrick where the Shamrock is thriving and the Chicago River runs green, so we are asking you to write a poem about St. Patrick's day and what it means to you personally, any format is welcome. ☘️
Obviously we would really love if you would be able to read and record the poem yourself for us, but please do not feel pressured. We (or a member of the reading team currently being formed) will be able to read the poem out for you if you don't want too. We understand.
Need help with creating a video? Head on over to The Loud-Speaker poetry group for help and advice on your audio / video submissions: https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/groups/loud-speaker-poetry/discussion/
Rules
*You have two weeks
* New poems only
* Audio / video / songs accepted
* Up to 2 entries per shamrock
* No extreme content / extreme erotica / a little swearing is fine.
* Winner agrees to have their poem read on The Poetcast Project March podcast. This is also shared on our Facebook & Twitter pages.
* No word count, just don't go mad
* Any questions, please feel free to ask.
Good luck!
-TPP
ST. Patrick's Day
St. Patrick's Day
Is coming
Holiday for drinking
Green beer, Meeting Women
Wearing Green Clothing
If you don't wear green
You ge t pinched
But I wouldn't mind
getting pinched by a woman
because she might be my
Feisty Match
Is coming
Holiday for drinking
Green beer, Meeting Women
Wearing Green Clothing
If you don't wear green
You ge t pinched
But I wouldn't mind
getting pinched by a woman
because she might be my
Feisty Match
Written by Phantom2426
(Francisco J Vera)
Go To Page
Luck of the Irish
ST Patrick's Day is
The holiday where you
Eat Irish food and drink
Green beer and have a
Shamrock shake and
always wanting to
find your "pot of gold"
to hold onto forever
The holiday where you
Eat Irish food and drink
Green beer and have a
Shamrock shake and
always wanting to
find your "pot of gold"
to hold onto forever
Written by Phantom2426
(Francisco J Vera)
Go To Page
DROP-KICKIN' BOSTON
(to the tune of “Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced”)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Yg8MuaWMT0
I’m drivin’ down Storrow,
and Kneeland and Stuart,
and Morrissey Boulevard, too—
I can’t help but wonder
where are all the colors;
‘cause everything’s green and not blue!
So hail—Dropkick Murphy’s!
You’ve sold out another fine show!
We rock and we roll,
your accordion goes,
on with another punk tune!
The Winter Hill Gang
is a dog of the past
but Southie still wears scars, like new.
There are bars full of craic
for the tall tales we make,
and we shout “Hey Saint Paddy’s Day!” too.
So hail—Dropkick Murphy’s!
You’ve sold out another fine show!
We rock and we roll,
your accordion goes,
on with another punk tune!
So when you’re in Boston
before the trees blossom—
go walk where the cold winds once blew,
and harken to stories
of someone’s green glory;
the shamrocks are long overdue!
So hail—Dropkick Murphy’s!
You’ve sold out another fine show!
We rock and we roll,
your accordion goes,
on with another punk tune!
(to the tune of “Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced”)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Yg8MuaWMT0
I’m drivin’ down Storrow,
and Kneeland and Stuart,
and Morrissey Boulevard, too—
I can’t help but wonder
where are all the colors;
‘cause everything’s green and not blue!
So hail—Dropkick Murphy’s!
You’ve sold out another fine show!
We rock and we roll,
your accordion goes,
on with another punk tune!
The Winter Hill Gang
is a dog of the past
but Southie still wears scars, like new.
There are bars full of craic
for the tall tales we make,
and we shout “Hey Saint Paddy’s Day!” too.
So hail—Dropkick Murphy’s!
You’ve sold out another fine show!
We rock and we roll,
your accordion goes,
on with another punk tune!
So when you’re in Boston
before the trees blossom—
go walk where the cold winds once blew,
and harken to stories
of someone’s green glory;
the shamrocks are long overdue!
So hail—Dropkick Murphy’s!
You’ve sold out another fine show!
We rock and we roll,
your accordion goes,
on with another punk tune!
Was It The Dublin Coddle☘️
( going out on a Limerick )
There once was a copper named Bart
‘Twas famous the way he could fart,
Locals thought it obscene
How he’d pile on the beans,
The crowd all said ‘He must be smart!’
He seemed to be bless’d from the start
Bart turned pooting into an art,
So on St Paddy’s Day
We were happy and gay,
A party there’d be a la carte.
The town planners made it a gift
And foot the bill due to the thrift,
All the ladies would make
Shepherd’s pie, Coddle bake,
Men making green beer on each shift.
Plus slabs of corn beef, veggies too
And stock pots filled with mutton stew,
The cabbage and butter
Will make a tum flutter,
Thus filling up on much ado.
And after Bart toasted the dell
With Bailey’s that had him feel swell,
He kept drinking a bit
Then fell down in a fit,
Rolled over and didn’t look well.
He felt like he’d swallowed two bricks
The food, beer and wine didn’t mix,
Crawled on both hands & knees
Even begged for green cheese,
The crowd only nodded,
transfixed.
Then heard a sound as if from Hell
Bart tried not to give out a yell,
So they couldn’t believe
There was nothing to see,
The only thing though was a smell!
And up from the crowd came a shout
They knew Bart had figured it out,
For technique passing wind
You can tell when he grinned,
This called for green lager or stout!
There once was a copper named Bart
‘Twas famous the way he could fart,
Locals thought it obscene
How he’d pile on the beans,
The crowd all said ‘He must be smart!’
He seemed to be bless’d from the start
Bart turned pooting into an art,
So on St Paddy’s Day
We were happy and gay,
A party there’d be a la carte.
The town planners made it a gift
And foot the bill due to the thrift,
All the ladies would make
Shepherd’s pie, Coddle bake,
Men making green beer on each shift.
Plus slabs of corn beef, veggies too
And stock pots filled with mutton stew,
The cabbage and butter
Will make a tum flutter,
Thus filling up on much ado.
And after Bart toasted the dell
With Bailey’s that had him feel swell,
He kept drinking a bit
Then fell down in a fit,
Rolled over and didn’t look well.
He felt like he’d swallowed two bricks
The food, beer and wine didn’t mix,
Crawled on both hands & knees
Even begged for green cheese,
The crowd only nodded,
transfixed.
Then heard a sound as if from Hell
Bart tried not to give out a yell,
So they couldn’t believe
There was nothing to see,
The only thing though was a smell!
And up from the crowd came a shout
They knew Bart had figured it out,
For technique passing wind
You can tell when he grinned,
This called for green lager or stout!
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
Go To Page
Montserrat The Emerald Isle
Sweet little Caribbean vibe,
Rich with pride
From cassava bread
to coconut dumplings
Beautiful Emerald Isle
Watched Soufriere Hills volcano kiss the sky
She ruptured, fire before our eyes,
Ocean floor to shoreline,
Preserve this land which is mine,
Reducing pollution,
Recycling debris
Protecting this Emerald City
Steel-pan drumming,
Masqueraders parading
The street's festivity,
Such freedom exude
As culture expressed by
The local dances and dress
Need I mention the food
This land that nurtures
It's people and creatures
We show our gratitude.
Our animals are our gems
We must respect them,
Mountain chicken down to hen.
There is history in this island
It's history we embrace,
tracing back to slavery and the ancient days.
The land we stand on is a blessed land
and so
I can proudly say,
Montserrat is Paradise
and so it shall stay.
Rich with pride
From cassava bread
to coconut dumplings
Beautiful Emerald Isle
Watched Soufriere Hills volcano kiss the sky
She ruptured, fire before our eyes,
Ocean floor to shoreline,
Preserve this land which is mine,
Reducing pollution,
Recycling debris
Protecting this Emerald City
Steel-pan drumming,
Masqueraders parading
The street's festivity,
Such freedom exude
As culture expressed by
The local dances and dress
Need I mention the food
This land that nurtures
It's people and creatures
We show our gratitude.
Our animals are our gems
We must respect them,
Mountain chicken down to hen.
There is history in this island
It's history we embrace,
tracing back to slavery and the ancient days.
The land we stand on is a blessed land
and so
I can proudly say,
Montserrat is Paradise
and so it shall stay.
Written by ClassyBird
(ClAsSyBiRdMeLlA)
Go To Page
I`ll lead the way
Put down your cares, and merry make
raise a tot without delay
springs verdance of three petals splayed
rejoice it is, St Patrick's day
Now hear the fiddles scraping bow
bodhran beating its drum roll
old folk songs aired, with voices raised
rejoice it is St Patrick's day
All leprechauns will cease mischief
and fairies dance in wood and field
good fortune come if they behave
as they rejoice, St Patrick's day
For his words that filled the heart
to save a nation torn apart
that Christian ways were his forte
March 17th St Patrick's day
Do I hear a cheiligh start, a Celtic band
the stamping feet and clapping hands
each one with a glass of stout, none stood aloof
toast St Patrick's Health, we'll raise the roof
Come follow me, I'll lead the way
on street or road, with banner raised
for that beneficence his life conveyed
celebrate with me, on St Patrick's day
Shine greener field its shamrock cut
the craic of friends and friendly folk
mountains of Mourne in sun and storm
St Patrick's day baptised, and we reborn
raise a tot without delay
springs verdance of three petals splayed
rejoice it is, St Patrick's day
Now hear the fiddles scraping bow
bodhran beating its drum roll
old folk songs aired, with voices raised
rejoice it is St Patrick's day
All leprechauns will cease mischief
and fairies dance in wood and field
good fortune come if they behave
as they rejoice, St Patrick's day
For his words that filled the heart
to save a nation torn apart
that Christian ways were his forte
March 17th St Patrick's day
Do I hear a cheiligh start, a Celtic band
the stamping feet and clapping hands
each one with a glass of stout, none stood aloof
toast St Patrick's Health, we'll raise the roof
Come follow me, I'll lead the way
on street or road, with banner raised
for that beneficence his life conveyed
celebrate with me, on St Patrick's day
Shine greener field its shamrock cut
the craic of friends and friendly folk
mountains of Mourne in sun and storm
St Patrick's day baptised, and we reborn
Written by slipalong
Go To Page
Aye Curse The Day !
I Would Rather Be Cuttin' Me Peat Into Ricks
Than Doin' Anythin' To Please So Said Patrick
Some Call Him A Saint , Yet I Call Him A Sinner
I Give Me Food To Swine Than Bless His Dinner
One Who Walked Our Land , To Take It Over
Bless Our Triple Goddess With Three Leaf Clover
Bless Our Land And The Faery Held Deep Within
Bless Our Departed Ancestors And All Our Living Kin
Yet For One Who Stole Our Land In Name Of His God
I Curse Him And Any Who Walk In The Steps He Trod
Than Doin' Anythin' To Please So Said Patrick
Some Call Him A Saint , Yet I Call Him A Sinner
I Give Me Food To Swine Than Bless His Dinner
One Who Walked Our Land , To Take It Over
Bless Our Triple Goddess With Three Leaf Clover
Bless Our Land And The Faery Held Deep Within
Bless Our Departed Ancestors And All Our Living Kin
Yet For One Who Stole Our Land In Name Of His God
I Curse Him And Any Who Walk In The Steps He Trod
Written by Blackwolf
(I.M.Blackwolf)
Go To Page
