As far as I know
I've not a drop of Irish blood
coursing through my veins
yet swoon when I hear said accent,
dream of traversing Cliffs of Moher
in County Clare or the Ring of Kerry,
resting in the town of Killarney.
(Just reading an Ireland map
makes one a poet...)
A mop of red hair, fair of face,
and I believe I've found
my Wise Protector,
a drop of Irish and I settle
for not one but two.
One I name Blue
for the adventuring we will do
upon mountain's Blue Ridge,
another I name Redmond,
not for the outlaw O'Hanlan,
although he's a bit mischievous,
as puppies will be. It's those moments
when he settles beside me, sitting so righteous,
so dignified for one so young,
that my heart swells, remembers
the comforting reds of Grandmother's house
and know my earliest memories
of fragrant trellised blooms,
warm tart pies, and red shuttered windows
still linger in my memory, if not by blood,
then perhaps a craving for the comfort
of red (Lusca) wine and blue skies...
and two puppies, Blue and Red.
by Margaret Bednar, March 23, 2019
need something to pair with that cabbage? https://www.celticwhiskeyshop.com/wines-by-country/Irish-Wine/Lusca-Irish-Wines
My poem reminiscing about my Grandmother's house: https://margaretbednar365.blogspot.com/2015/02/red.html
This poem is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini Challenge - Nomenclature" Anyone an join the fun - have you tried writing a poem?... I welcome you to try!