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mai venn Poems
The Weapon by Mai Venn -new-
My pen is like a silver blade I use it in my life long trade For words can stir a crowd Spoken softly or spoken loud
God Help Ireland
I look at the telly for the news to see But look whose face is glaring back at me That man, An Taoiseach, what's his name he was a TD,
All alone You came to the grounds of Granard’s Church. Frightened; forsaken, What could be worse?
Haunt Me No More
You come into my dreams, I cannot stop you, You enter the corridor of my most inner mind, Plundering, trampling on my hopes of joy.
This fairy woman of Ireland, set in history to be forthwith. Messenger of death, is part of our folklore and myth There are many tales of her sorrowful sound and sad cry The wailing lament of the Banshee sigh
Oppression of Ireland
Oppression of Ireland Why is our country so sad?
Commemoration of 1798
Two hundred year later, at the 98 Commemoration We all gathered around to celebrate in anticipation,
In Greece the people say that austerity is cruel In Ireland it has become somewhat the rule In Greece they took to the streets and demonstrated In Ireland some did and more choose emigration
Hell on Earth
Hell on Earth Woe to you, Sister And woe to your cane.
Change is all around, in the town, city and land, Shall I too bury my head like the ostrich in the sand?
THE COLD SPELL -new-
THE COLD SPELL The weather became very cold The birds became very bold
So soon comes the night Covering the earth from the light Conscious shadows forming everywhere, Casting doubt, imposing fear.
I am a Thinker by the Sea
One million footsteps in display that adorn your strand As seashell lay lightly, quietly on your golden sand While I gaze at this array of life I see in motion When strolling by, in wonder, viewing the ocean
The Tears of Ireland
It's time for me to write once more But my mind flowed slow of inspiration It's May Day, as I glance around
Comments about mai venn
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Weapon by Mai Venn
My pen is like a silver blade
I use it in my life long trade
For words can stir a crowd
Spoken softly or spoken loud
My pen is the weapon of my choice
It gives me the means to have a voice
A revolutionary woman they said I am
What's right for the tiger is right for the lamb?
To amend what is wrong to what is right
It's worth the challenge and merits the fight
So on go I to battle, in my hand, my tiny pen
Big baboons may oppose me now and then
My ammunitions are wise words and truth
So I aim my pen and I am ready to shoot
On to the line, ...