The Irish flag it has three colors

Green, white, and orange with no others

and as custom decrees

the 17th one dons green

lest one's shade be the shame of their mothers

The meaning most frequently lost -

next time ask, put them on the spot

the green Catholic

white peace an' sich

and orange confuses the lot

Traditions to ponder then ere ya

go mocking the un-green (heaven spare ya)

it remains to be seen

by those wearing green

I'm a Protestant - so pinch me, I dare ya!

The spectral hands of my great grandmother

Clutching cursed heather and stolen gold

Moving through sage smoke and across tarot

Confering with old Gods and ancestral Kings

My grandmother's intuition

Searching across continents to find my Grandfather

In the deepest jungles of India

She left her body when he was wounded

My mother recalls shattering glass

Cleaning up his bloody wound with her hankerchief

All my love from Ireland embroidered upon it

Tis the one time of year,

when being a wee potato farmer in Ireland

isn't so bad.

Besides, we get to drink.

Green beer, is that a thing? It is?

Bye, laddie, I'm goin' to the store.

Isnae this grand?

**I really don't mean to offend anyone by this, if I do, very sorry I'll delete it... part of Saint Patrick's Day is really cheap-ass irish impressions... so here we have it.**

Staring at the smiling leprechaun poster on my wall, I internally curse Saint Patrick’s Day. Now don’t get me wrong, I love getting away with pinching people as much as the average person, but this day comes with so many negative memories for me that it’s hard to get out of bed and brave the sympathetic glances from my family. Last Saint Patrick’s day, my boyfriend broke up with me, even though he knew that Saint Patty’s day was my favorite holiday. My grandma and I have a tradition of getting a shamrock shake every March 17, but now even that is ruined. As I lay in bed, contemplating whether or not I should tear down the sadness-inducing poster, I get out of bed and notice a shamrock shake on the kitchen counter, with a note from my grandma alongside it. Maybe this holiday isn’t ruined, after all.

@Danceinsilence

One after another,

Mugs of vibrant green beer disappear

The lads and lassies in the pub

Cheer for all to hear,

Toasting to one another

Dark green dresses, scarlet red tresses

A sea of the lucky color,

Waving around like a field

Of four-leaf clovers

Next year,

And the one after that,

They'll all gather again,

To graciously celebrate

The sacred day of the saint