Healing
A happy sound; the peel of laughter from a child
A smile that reaches up into the eyes
A warm embrace to keep you warm
A look that say more that words ever could
I breathe deep and feel the air fill my chest and feed my lungs
My heart pumps and by blood flows through corridors of rushing cells
I sleep knowing that when I wake, I will have healed
Brittle
Where lies the beating heart
Smooth and warm?
Beneath this skin and bone
Withered and brittle with age.
Touch
Flowers in the moonlight rise
Floating on a river of blood
Reach out to touch the gentle leaf
Breathe across the open lake
Robert Burns Made Me Blush
I spent some time today listening to readings of some of Robert Burns' poetry and it’s got me thinking about the origin and development of language.
Poems published on bbc.co.uk in their original form require a statement that they contain strong language or scenes of a sexual nature.
Back in the 18th century would this have been considered strong language? The translation of some of the poems is totally innocent but when read today cause merriment and blushes. (Especially so when read by an English lass.)
I’m interested in your thoughts…
Aedh Wishes For The Clothes Of Heaven
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.