Tag Archives: james connolly

1916 ended 100 years later with an English kiss

Low and behold a week well spent
hidden and celebrating ol’
connolly’s deaths. The
dominoes’ effect.

Eye met mind on my
supposed last night,
already delayed to hear
the Proclamation ring
on ex-Sackville street.

And when Eyes met mind
on celebration night,
I knew that my supposed
last night might
rest. That’s when I knew –

When he stared at me and I
stared right back.
‘Cause never could I miss a sight like that
which is how I found my heart
in a Dublin man.

With all those numbered
dead which brought
us to meet, it’s crass
to celebrate my ’16 rising night
with a centenary kiss.

No need for Grace,
and no need for James.
Redmond and Padraig can go ahead
and wait.

If this is what true love is,
I have those rebels to thank.
And if living in the past
brought me to this present,
I never want to go back.

And that’s how I’ll
remember him staring at me. And how I stared
right back. Never could
I survive without witnessing
a sight like that. And that’s
when I knew I found a
soul in a Dubliner true.

Constance, Sheehy
and gunfire Tones.
When we kiss it’s
the blood of Collins + Rest
from way back when those
that carried the green and
pikes. Because of them,
their dreams,
will have me in his bed tonight.

Now I’ll remember always
how he stared at me.
And how I stared right back.
Never could I fault a fate like that,
and that’s how I found my heart
in a Dublin man on that
centenary night.

And that’s how I
won an Irishman over
with an English girl’s kiss
on 1916’s centenary night.

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Centenary Celebration Kiss (WIP)

One hour flight,
to mark one hundred years ago.
I’m thinking of Love By Numbers
And how is it – how many – that had to die –
for me to have been when we first
threw eyes?

Is it the fifteen men who died
by fire at the jail to hill?
Is it the ‘thirteen strike
which killed more still, just
three years prior –
or does it go back,
yes it always go back.

To the days of Plight,
to the days of ol’
where more children died,
where more women toiled.

Is it the forty young-ones
who died by elders’ oversight
during that Easter time?

Have I Connolly to thank,
Have I Parnell to love?
Have I the famine to hug.

How many deaths did it take me
to get to you this Easter time?
Ireland was fighting to be recognised,
while I only had to find your eyes.

To the days of Plight,
to the days of ol’
where more children died,
where more women toiled.

Who would have thought that one hundred
years later, the fate of an island
would have brought us together?

When Ireland was fighting for his
freedom,
I was only wanting to join with you.

How many were born for me to get this
way with you? How many saw their lives fulfilled
with outweighed joy, how many sat upon free Irish
soil?

Centenary, celebrate,
not with guns,
but with a drenched guinness kiss.