My writing has always been deeply influenced by the Irish writers whose inspiration prompted me to pick up the quill and follow in their footsteps.  This is my humble tribute to William Butler Yeats ...

I went down to the cool, dark woods,
when night owls were on the wing.
On earthly ghosts and raging floods
embraced my lonely pondering.
Moss clung fast to an olden tree,
near bank of river flowing slow
Salmon leap I smiled to see,
in silence, with a young moons’ glow.
Fawn eyes bright, shone out at me,
from in the depths, and to and fro.
She licked my hand, while nestling free,
her tale to tell of the long ago.
She told to me, through still night air
that time and space are here and now.
Spoke to me of a maid so fair,
with troubled look on her pale brow.
An apple blossom in her hair,
she haunts the woods in search of him.
To heal her heart and her love fair,
and cease the lonely wanderin’.
All at once near a white oak tree,
a girl in shimmering bright light,
came out and gently called to me.
Then both did meld, into the night.

From "The Journey: A Nomad Reflects."

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Don’t Die with Regrets: Ireland and the Lessons my Father Taught Me.

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Tags: Literature, Poetry


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