Public Consultation / Irish Social Forum
Blog Feeds
Anti-Empire
The SakerA bird's eye view of the vineyard
Public InquiryInterested in maladministration. Estd. 2005
Human Rights in IrelandIndymedia Ireland is a volunteer-run non-commercial open publishing website for local and international news, opinion & analysis, press releases and events. Its main objective is to enable the public to participate in reporting and analysis of the news and other important events and aspects of our daily lives and thereby give a voice to people.
|
Where are we going...![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ...and why do we want to get there so quickly? "Every daring attempt to make a great change in existing conditions, every lofty vision of new possibilities for the human race, has been labeled Utopian." As we enter another season of newfound campaign promises and strategies for change, how many of us are aware of the future vision of our society; for our children, our grandchildren and our great-grandchildren? Every successful organisation creates a vision to guide its growth and evolution. Certainly our society has one to help guide us. Or do we? Unfortunately, as a natural occurrence within a democratic government, partisan politics inhibits the creation of a societal vision that is appealing to everyone. How then, can we successfully navigate our society toward a mutually desirable future? |
View Comments Titles Only
save preference
Comments (1 of 1)
Jump To Comment: 1The link on Tom's piece only works when the forward slash at the end is deleted.Fixed now - IMC Ed Seeing that Tom is based in Sligo and an O'Leary, his piece brought to mind William Butler Yeats' 'September 1913' - which goes to show that the gombeen man isn't just a creation of the Celtic Tiger!
William Butler Yeats - September 1913
What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone?
For men were born to pray and save:
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You'd cry, 'Some woman's yellow hair
Has maddened every mother's son':
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they're dead and gone,
They're with O'Leary in the grave.