Luck Of The Irish


The Irish love their horses.


It’s a long tradition

which survives urbanisation

among young working class people

in parts of Dublin,

people seemingly like me.

They take them along the city streets,

into supermarkets, on buses,

even up in the lift to their new home 

on the balcony of an apartment.

The stories are legion.


And the Irish love their stories.


But I was not like them.

I couldn’t be part of that story.

I find horses just too big, too strong,

too high from the ground.

Even on a seaside donkey I was afraid

I’d take a tumble from the saddle

or be nudged and trampled into the sand.

I was sure that it was only 

by the luck of the Irish

that I survived.


Yes, Lady Luck loves the Irish.


But I know for certain now

that when I join that wild eyed horse

on the balcony

the luck of the Irish

is bound to desert me.



http://www.athinsliceofanxiety.com/2023/04/poetry-selections-from-lynn-white.html?m=1

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  In The Rocks It was a small gap in the rocks dry and bare for a time in waiting, waiting for the tide   to turn and the sea to wash through to leave it not quite dry; a trickle of   salt water   left behind, salt tears running down a face, pooling below full of life full of creatures brought back to life. Tears can sometimes do that temporarily. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Scissortail-Quarterly-4-August-2021/dp/1955814449/ref=sr_1_1?adgrpid=1289727496319819&dchild=1&hvadid=80608056598932&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvlocphy=42057&hvnetw=o&hvqmt=e&hvtargid=kwd-80608176505703%3Aloc-188&keywords=scissortail+quarterly&qid=1631206123&sr=8-1
Read more
Image
    Through the Glass Alice saw herself in her looking glass and walked through into a topsy turvy world where everything was back to front and inside out. She drifted into a dreamscape of madness and unreality,   without breaking the glass. Uncut by the shards of her mirror   or the place she entered into. She had only to wake to make   things the right way round again. But walking through a clear glass, a transparent window, it would have been different. Her reflection would float   towards a place where everything   seemed the right way round. Where everything made sense and added up sweet with reason. A place without madness, which looked easy to enter and had no sharp edges. Apparently. But this glass forms an invisible barrier to the other side and the life that seduces and entices her. And to get through she has to break the glass, whose sharp edges cut her and propel her crazily into a place where she cannot wake. A jagged, topsy turvy place   where everything spins round wildl
Read more
Image
  Family History It’s all about connections. If we can only find them we can all find our dynasty we can all trace our family back to it’s royal beginnings see their place in that dynasty through their connections. If we can only find them we can all be back there then. https://cajunmuttpress.wordpress.com/2024/04/05/cajun-mutt-press-featured-writer-04-05-24-2/ If we can only make them we can all be there now.
Read more