A Kiss, A Charm


I’m part Irish.
The drinking side roared
in on a stereotype with
my maternal grandfather.

I never met the man,
just heard him filtered
through his bottle and fists.

There was plenty of family tree
son of a bitchin’ mixed with
a switch to keep me from
drinking my way out on that limb.

A kiss, a charm, I escaped the harm,
but hard headed took root.

I’m fourth leaf, chance brushed lucky.
Blarney’s a gift, a jigger’s a rift.
I drank my share, but always with care
that I didn’t dive deeper than no.

©Susie Clevenger 2018

Real Toads ~ Blarney Me



Comments

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said…
Glad you got the Blarney and escaped the curse!
March 18, 2018 at 5:05 PM
Kim M. Russell said…
Grit and truth in these words, Susie:
I’m fourth leaf, chance brushed lucky.
Blarney’s a gift, a jigger’s a rift.
I drank my share, but always with care
that I didn’t dive deeper than no.
March 19, 2018 at 3:20 AM
brudberg said…
Oh that stereotype... it only takes one to confirm its validity. The fists and drinking is something that we need to be wary of... (Irish or not)
March 19, 2018 at 4:44 AM
Brendan said…
The poor Irish, truly what someone once called Europe's darkies. Indeed there are Black Irish, not of skin but hair and and eye: And most every sprawling family tree I've read about this weekend, blame it on the Irish to cause trouble. 'Course, there a little bit of Eire in all of us, just not so much as to cause fisticuffs and then handcuffs. Verse is a rosier alternate to the hearse, I say. In AA we scratch our heads at those casual drinkers who say No just when the whiskey sings Go. Who can have one or two and then go home. What's blarney without blister? A relief, I think ... Thanks for joining in with this!
March 19, 2018 at 5:26 AM
Maude Lynn said…
Really well done, Susie.
March 19, 2018 at 7:07 AM
Margaret said…
" filtered
through his bottle and fists."

and I could have copy and pasted the whole poem. What a wonderful ancestry poem!
March 19, 2018 at 2:30 PM
Jim said…
Fee Fie Foe Fum, I smell and Irishman. And Lass. Hard, but good upbringing even though we didn't like it that way. My grandfather was also domineering, a German.
That was a fun read, Susie.
..
March 19, 2018 at 2:59 PM
Mary (cactus haiku) said…
the gift of blarney comes in handy for a poet/storyteller -- good thing you escaped the other poet's/Irish curse -- the golden glow of whiskey
March 23, 2018 at 1:18 AM
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