Rhymes Poem's & Videos
Shane O'Brien (Wickford) England
Lion King
As the warrior's waited with shield and sword, the Lion King was ready as he roared.
Marching into battle at a steady stride, protecting Ireland with great pride.
After all was done, the battle of Clontarf was won, by King Brian, known as the lion.
He lay his life down for a great cause, for us his sons, will never hear the lion's roars.
As the Lion King held his head up high, he saw the three lions ruling the sky.
The blood of the lion runs deep within our veins. The defender of the emerald
isle and the king of the Celtic plains. Sword soaked in blood the fear of the
swing, the heads rolled at the hand of the king.
The roars of the lion will echo throughout time, the blood of the king is the blood of mine. Brian Boru was the kings name the the true king lion who could not be tamed. Blood of my blood blade of my king, the legend is the gift gifted from kin. The lion crest
in the sky shall soar for i am O'Brien, hear me roar.
The Legend of Ireland's Magic Harp
In the misty hills of Ireland A long, long time ago, There lived a lovely Irish lass Who loved her father so. One day he went to fetch some wood,
But he did not soon return, And so his loving daughter's heart Was filled with great concern. She searched for him throughout the day,
And when a fog came in She wept, for she was fearful They would never meet again. Then suddenly, a little band
Of leprechauns came by.
They all were very saddened. To hear the lovely maiden cry. They asked if they might have a lock of her long and golden hair, Then tied the silken strands across A crooked limb with care. Twas a magic harp they'd made,
And when the maiden touched each strand, The music led her father home Across the misty land. And to this day the harp remains
A cherished symbol of The blessings of the hearth and home The Irish dearly love.
by Samuel Lover Novelist, poet, musician and artistborn in Dublin, Ireland 1797, died in 1868
In the misty hills of Ireland A long, long time ago, There lived a lovely Irish lass Who loved her father so. One day he went to fetch some wood,
But he did not soon return, And so his loving daughter's heart Was filled with great concern. She searched for him throughout the day,
And when a fog came in She wept, for she was fearful They would never meet again. Then suddenly, a little band
Of leprechauns came by.
They all were very saddened. To hear the lovely maiden cry. They asked if they might have a lock of her long and golden hair, Then tied the silken strands across A crooked limb with care. Twas a magic harp they'd made,
And when the maiden touched each strand, The music led her father home Across the misty land. And to this day the harp remains
A cherished symbol of The blessings of the hearth and home The Irish dearly love.
by Samuel Lover Novelist, poet, musician and artistborn in Dublin, Ireland 1797, died in 1868
Feelings
The Feeling
In a world that changes, it's amazing how one person can make an Impact on you stopping you in your tracts. And as the world leaves you behind, you wonder how one single person can Impact you, leaving you speechless and teaching you a sense you never thought possible.
The sense I talk of is love, how can you defy love? it having no definition.
Love is a person, a moment, a place and a indescribable feeling. I wish someone would have warned me of it's excitements and dangers. Before I fell into it's vice like grip. But I guess love is everywhere and until you experience it you never really respect it. I've learnt my lesson and so will many other unfortunate souls, I guess the point is clear you can't avoid it so embrace it, but be aware of it's abilities as life unfolds.
Ironic really, because just as I think I understand it everything changes, again and again.
Shane O'Brien Essex England
Celerbation of Life
Kincora
Oh, where, Kincora! is Brian the Great?
And where is the beauty that once was thine?
Oh, where are the princes and nobles that sate
At the feast in thy halls,and drank the red wine?
Where, oh, Kincora?
Oh, where, Kincora! are thy valorous lords?
Oh, whither, thou Hospital! are they gone?
Oh, where are the Dalcassians of the Golden Swords ?
And where are the warriors Brian led on?
Where, oh, Kincora?
And where is Murrough, the descendant of kings,
The defeater of a hundred, the daringly brave Who set but slight store by jewels and rings.
Who set but slight store by jewels and rings. Who swam down the torrent and laughed at it's wave?
Where, oh, Kincora? And where is Donogh, King Brian's worthy son? And where is Conaing the beautiful Chief? And kian, and Corc? Alas! they are gone. They have left me this night alone with my grief,
eft me, Kincora And where are the chiefs with whom Brian went forth,
The ne'er vanquished sons of Erin the Brave, The great King of Onaght, renowned for it's worth, And the hosts of Baskinn, from the western wave, Where, Oh, Kincora?
Oh, where, Kincora! is Brian the Great?
And where is the beauty that once was thine?
Oh, where are the princes and nobles that sate
At the feast in thy halls,and drank the red wine?
Where, oh, Kincora?
Oh, where, Kincora! are thy valorous lords?
Oh, whither, thou Hospital! are they gone?
Oh, where are the Dalcassians of the Golden Swords ?
And where are the warriors Brian led on?
Where, oh, Kincora?
And where is Murrough, the descendant of kings,
The defeater of a hundred, the daringly brave Who set but slight store by jewels and rings.
Who set but slight store by jewels and rings. Who swam down the torrent and laughed at it's wave?
Where, oh, Kincora? And where is Donogh, King Brian's worthy son? And where is Conaing the beautiful Chief? And kian, and Corc? Alas! they are gone. They have left me this night alone with my grief,
eft me, Kincora And where are the chiefs with whom Brian went forth,
The ne'er vanquished sons of Erin the Brave, The great King of Onaght, renowned for it's worth, And the hosts of Baskinn, from the western wave, Where, Oh, Kincora?
