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The way the river flows ….. (Nick Drake Lyrics “River Man”)

The way the river flows

Nick Drake Lyrics
“River Man”

Betty came by on her way
Said she had a word to say
About things today
And fallen leaves.

Said she hadn’t heard the news
Hadn’t had the time to choose
A way to lose
But she believes.

Going to see the river man
Going to tell him all I can
About the plan
For lilac time.

If he tells me all he knows
About the way his river flows
And all night shows
In summertime.

Betty said she prayed today
For the sky to blow away
Or maybe stay
She wasn’t sure.

For when she thought of summer rain
Calling for her mind again
She lost the pain
And stayed for more.

Going to see the river man
Going to tell him all I can
About the ban
On feeling free.

If he tells me all he knows
About the way his river flows
I don’t suppose
It’s meant for me.

Oh, how they come and go
Oh, how they come and go.

I dream of you, to wake, by : Christina Rossetti

Dreams of the morning light
Irish Landscapes
Country Kilkenny
Nigel Borrington 2020

I dream of you, to wake’ by Christina Rossetti

I dream of you, to wake: would that I might
Dream of you and not wake but slumber on;
Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone,
As, Summer ended, Summer birds take flight.
In happy dreams I hold you full in night.
I blush again who waking look so wan;
Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone,
In happy dreams your smile makes day of night.
Thus only in a dream we are at one,
Thus only in a dream we give and take
The faith that maketh rich who take or give;
If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake,
To die were surely sweeter than to live,
Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.

Light between the trees poem: by Henry Van Dyke

The Light between
Irish Landscapes
Nigel Borrington 2020

Long, long, long the trail
Through the brooding forest-gloom,
Down the shadowy, lonely vale
Into silence, like a room
Where the light of life has fled,
And the jealous curtains close
Round the passionless repose
Of the silent dead.

Plod, plod, plod away,
Step by step in mouldering moss;
Thick branches bar the day
Over languid streams that cross
Softly, slowly, with a sound
In their aimless creeping
Like a smothered weeping,
Through the enchanted ground.

“Yield, yield, yield thy quest,”
Whispers through the woodland deep;
“Come to me and be at rest;
“I am slumber, I am sleep.”
Then the weary feet would fail,
But the never-daunted will
Urges “Forward, forward still!
“Press along the trail!”

Breast, breast, breast the slope!
See, the path is growing steep.
Hark! a little song of hope
When the stream begins to leap.
Though the forest, far and wide,
Still shuts out the bending blue,
We shall finally win through,
Cross the long divide.

On, on, onward tramp!
Will the journey never end?
Over yonder lies the camp;
Welcome waits us there, my friend.
Can we reach it ere the night?
Upward, upward, never fear!
Look, the summit must be near;
See the line of light!

Red, red, red the shine
Of the splendour in the west,
Glowing through the ranks of pine,
Clear along the mountain-crest!
Long, long, long the trail
Out of sorrow’s lonely vale;
But at last the traveller sees
Light between the trees!

Whispering Waves : A poem by – Edel T. Copeland

Whispering Waves
County Kerry, Ireland
Irish landscapes
Nigel Borrington 2020

Whispering Waves
Edel T. Copeland

Waves come crashing to grey sullen shores.
Powerful and strong, it breathes and roars.
Cascading and caressing each grain of sand,
A warm embrace between sea and land.

High above, a seagull soars high.
Wings of purity it spreads to fly.
Battling high against darkened cloud,
In a wind that blows fiercely, flying graceful and proud.

Beneath, the sand is soft and warm.
Sculpted by nature, it’s weathered the storm.
A passionate battle between calmness and rage,
A new chapter’s beginning; don’t turn the last page.

I listen again to the whispering waves,
Music of nature calming and brave.
Its power unknown, its stillness untamed,
Mysterious and magical, a treasure earth claims.

I’m Just a Farmer, Plain and Simple: By Bobby Collier

I’m Just a Farmer, Plain and Simple
By Bobby Collier

I’m just a farmer,
Plain and simple.
Not of a royal birth
But rather, a worker of the earth.

I know not of riches
But rather, of patches on my britches
I know of draught and rain,
Of pleasure and pain.

I know of the good and the bad,
The happy and the sad.
I am a man of emotions.

A man who loves this land,
And the beauty of its sand.
I know of a spring’s fresh flow
And autumn’s golden glow,
Of a newborn calf’s hesitation,
And the eagle’s destination.

I know of tall pines,
And long, waiting lines.
Of the warmth of campfires,
And the agony of flat tires.

But I am a man who loves his job
And the life I live.

I am a man who works with God,
I cannot succeed without his help,
For you see,
I’m just a farmer
Plain and simple.

October : Robert Frost – 1874-1963

Octobers trees
Lumix GX1
Black and white Landscpares
Nigel Borrington 2020

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

Down on the Farm , The Light in your eyes ……

The White of your eyes
Black and white Images
Lumix GX1 camera
Nigel Borrington 2020

In The Green you can live ….

In The Green you can live ….

Don’t listen to the people
Who think they know it all
I open my heart
and write you a song

Time is Gone
Escape from all

And in the green
you can live
On the trees you can sleep
And the moon will make you smile
And the city says goodbye
And shout lalalalalala

I give you my bag
Old bag
For guitar and bread

I give you my shoes
Old shoes
And i give you my hat

Time is Gone
Escape from all

And in the green
you can live
On the trees you can sleep
And the moon will make you smile
And the city says goodbye
And shout lalalalalala

Dandelion seeds a poem by Whitney Albright

Dandelion Seeds
Woodland nature
Nikon D700
Nigel Borrington 2020

She stands out
Against the weeds
Oh, she spouts
Her dandelion seeds

The smiling song
Of spring she leads
May the sunshine on
Her dandelion seeds

From the damp land
Her roots feed
Causing silver strands
In her dandelion seeds

Wishes she carries
Wishes she bleeds
Wishes are scattered
In her dandelion seeds

Mine is the freedom of the hills : By: Douglas Fraser – 1968

Freedom of the Hills
Irish Landscape Photography
Nigel Borrington

Freedom of the Hills

By: Douglas Fraser – 1968

Mine is the freedom of the tranquil hills
When vagrant breezes bend the sinewy grass,
While sunshine on the widespread landscape spills
And light as down the fleet cloud-shadowed pass.

Mine, still, that freedom when the storm-clouds race,
Cracking their whips against defiant crags
And mists swirl boiling up from inky space
To vanish on the instant, torn to rags.

When winter grips the mountains in a vice,
Silently stifling with its pall of snow,
Checking the streams, draping the rocks in ice,
Still to their mantled summits I would go.

Sun-drenched, I sense the message they impart;
Storm-lashed, I hear it sing through every vein;
Among the snows it whispers to my heart
“Here is your freedom. Taste – and come again.”

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