On this day in 1865..
No doubt many have many favourite WB Yeats poems...
When You Are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
William Butler Yeats
Born: June 13, 1865, Sandymount, Ireland
Died: January 28, 1939, Menton, France
Poetry from Des Donnelly - Irish poet born 1955, Co. Tyrone, north Ireland. Poetry still being written.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Poem - Horse Words
hypnotic or alluring the scratch of the pencil
like a fresh horse just out
spooked by a sound in its mind
the smell around it
not running for the joy
but for fear
behind that imagined scratch
on a sensitive place called bleed me
and so it does, but not blood
a trickle of phantasms
half formed half shapes gaining on you
feeling the fear of the horse words under you
knowing without looking the gallop a leading question
another high cliff just a fall away,
waking up to a future of remembering..
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Poetry
