Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Tomás Ó Cárthaigh Poems

Ireland, is it but a Notion?
Ireland... is it but a notion
Of a land that never was...
But in the dreams of our dreamers...

Can a hand outstretched be trusted...
Can we without fear accept a smile...
Is all as it should be
Or should we be cautios all the while?

He who walks knows not he is watched:
By a God who sees us all and is fair,
Though not seen by human eyes,
No one doubts that he is there...

I am not alone, though alone I may be,
My God always is with, and watches over me,
As I each day, inthis world my way try to make,
He applauds the good I do, and scorns each mistake.

A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.

The meadows through which my dancing heart
Has often ambled with abondoned glee
Are now overgrown by thorns
Through which it now cannot walk free.

Once there lived a Scotsman
Whose years nobody knew
Who was seen by all in town
And known by very few.

I, the sinner, in church I am not seen
Because Im not missed, Im never asked where I’ve been
For I, few times my face in church has shown
And so, by those ho frequent it are not known.

A lady of dreams
Floats on the waves of slumbers deep
And stares, a look that looks through the soul
Of him who is asleep

A cry, silent in the night,
Taken by angels heavenwards
To the ear of God on high
As if the Angels were birds…

He faught not war, but a campaign
Freed India from Britains reign,
Caused only the British to shed blood
If only Ireland would camplaign, like India could!

The Angels they are calling, and you, you cannot stay
When the angels of the Lord beckon, we all must obey
Happier you will be, back where you are from
Now is your time, someday mine will come.

What I see before me as I look around,
At where there is nobody and nothing
I see peace, I see heaven, in the tranquility,
As a chorus of songbirds start to sing.

I wish that when my eyes I open,
A better day sometime will see,
Through my actions or those of others,
A better time for all will be.

The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

One night dark walking along
A lane onto its end,

Every smile, every gurgle, every cry,
It is to you a gift from God,
Nurture it, and it will grow,
As the seed does in the sod...

Thank the Lord in your needful hour,
He’s watching over you,
Hes by your side, helping you bear your cross...
Sharing all that you go through.

‘The most horrible sight to a man in this world’
Words I reads somewhere that escape my brain-
‘Is the beauty of a Ladies smile’
A sentiment I found insane!

Paul Polansky sat in my kitchen,
Eat pudding and drank black tea,
As if he were but a friend,
Who passing happened to be.

And there, on a place called calvary, hung the son of God,
For all mankinds salvation, to absove us of our sin,
Should we desire to the Lord ourselves to reconcile,
He would not be found wanting: Heavens Gates us through to bring in.

Tomás Ó Cárthaigh Biography

Born in Galway, the author grew up in the small town of Banagher in Offaly. Writing since a child, he published extensivly on the internet on such sites as and among others, before self publishing his first title 'Writings In Rhyme' in 2005. http: // http: //

The Best Poem Of Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Ireland, Is It But A Notion?

Ireland, is it but a Notion?
Ireland... is it but a notion
Of a land that never was...
But in the dreams of our dreamers...
Who had those dreams because...
The reality of no land
Was for them too much to bear...
And so where there was no land...
They imagined one for themselves there...

The isle of saints and of scholars...
A land of Gaelic and Green
A land where all were of Royalty...
Was it a land that has never has been?
The land of the Celtic Tiger...
So silent to most was its roar...
To those deaf to its bellowing
Life was just as before...

Lots of work and little pay...
Give all of your money for rent...
Dont complain... no but be grateful...
Shut the hell up and be content.
Never get to own your own home
Though you pay as much to live in a flat...
Think of the money you’d save and could squander
If you moved into a squat!

The Ireland of dreams and of dreamers
Aye, it is an Island of Dreams
The truth is sen in today and tomorrow...
Nothing is as green as it seems...
To get ahead once again the Irish
Toforiegn lands will have to fly
As the Slav from the east makes a new life in Erin
The Gael in America will die...

For that is capitalism
It consumes a nation: whole
Displaces entire peoples...
Destroys a nations soul...
But Erin is resilliant
We will absorb like before
And evolve to Slavo - Celts in the furture
And a fututre we will have once more...

So heres to the Irish and Erin
And her children all over the world flung
To our language, our culture our heritage
Here is to our native tongue...
In fity years time we may speak Polish or Russian
Though now it seems almost absurd
Wouldn’t it be great that those who forced us to lose our language
Would find on our island of theirs not one word?

Tomás Ó Cárthaigh Comments

Ronald Smith 30 January 2006

Great ending. It really moved me.

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Ronald Smith 30 January 2006

Bravo! ! Bravo! ! Bravo! ! very good poem.

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Ronald Smith 30 January 2006

This a very true poem. Very well done my friend

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