1)

"MANUSCRIPTS IN CLEVELAND OHIO-for St Patrick's Day "
Margaret Ann Waddicor March 2011.

Most splendid Book of Kells,
illuminated souls,
the hours,
the gold the blue entwined with flowers of every hue,
astound,
give joy beyond religions plough(ploy)
where nature, culture, man,
they meet
and differences defeat.

Elite the monks,
the nuns and scribes their stories told,
so eloquent, so bold,
with pride here in these manuscripts;
they feel their lives are justified
decried.

Within these bowers framed
are poisons,
angels,
devils,
kings,
superstitious things,
differences
that still pollute
the mind of us who follow.

Unquestioned creeds,
dissonant differences,
dire and black,
a black that shades the Emerald Isle,
while harp strings strum the old refrain
in grey;
like rain drops
hanging from the clouds
those shrouds of mystery and myth
to hide.
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2)

"ST.PATRICK'S DAY, THOUGHTS"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 8th March 2011.

Tangled trees in magic dells
where spells were told of old,
their spirits fills the mind of those
whose ancestors arose in Eire.

A land of mires where tall stone spires
stand pointed t'wards the sky.
'Rise up and take your stand'
they seem to say.

A land of strong religions, each
from roots of the same tree,
the fractions disagree, and yet
the land is green with flowers and seeds
from other climes imported by the birds,
the wind, the sea and rains replenishing.

Stone circles cold on gaunt hills haunt,
with passage graves like Knowth,
in tongues now obsolete old Ireland's turf
its padded feet, and from the people's voice
a music wistful as the harp, its beat.

Humour, wit, sheer joy of living strives,
defies the tug o'war, the fear, reality disguised,
will they not open now their eyes,
and see the worth, their birth.

The Irish lilt, the rolling silt of Mourn
won from the sea, the many tribes
from foreign parts enriching theirs,
all human's searching for their holy grail
Oh God's above show them the power of love.
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