Capturing the world with Photography, Painting and Drawing

Posts tagged “Friday Poetry

Friday Poetry : The Genesis of the Butterfly, by Victor Hugo

The Genesis of the Butterfly
Nature Photography
Nigel Borrington

The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.

Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind’s playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies


Friday Poetry : in the Valley Of Slievenamon , Charles Joseph Kickham

The Valley Of Slievenamon Irish Landscape Images Nigel Borrington

The Valley Of Slievenamon
Irish Landscape Images
Nigel Borrington

Alone, all alone, by the wave-washed strand
All alone in the crowded hall
The hall it is gay, and the waves they are grand
But my heart is not here at all.
It flies far away, by night and by day
To the times and the joys that are gone.
But I never will forget the sweet maiden I met
In the valley of Slievenamon.
It was not the grace of her queenly air
Nor her cheek of the rose’s glow
Nor her soft black eyes, not her flowing hair
Nor was it her lily-white brow,
‘Twas the soul of truth, and of melting ruth
And the smile like a summer dawn
That sold my heart away on a soft summer day
In the valley of Slievenamon.

In the festival hall, by the star-washed shore,
Ever my restless spirit cries.
‘My love, oh, my love, shall I ne’er see you more.
And my land, will you never uprise?’
By night and by day, I ever, ever pray
While lonely my life flows on
To see our flag unfurled and my true love to enfold
In the valley of Slievenamon.
Charles Joseph Kickham

Poems by Charles Joseph Kickham


Friday Poetry , Home stretch

Gort eyeries west cork

Home stretch

By : K.D..

Views of  Rome 1

End of Friday, I float out, slide out, glide outside,
weekend feeling starts from first waking I confide,

One foot in front of another, quickens apace, work-gate in sight,
threshold crossed and happy stride full of departed delight,

Cars swerved, by fast-approaching buggies I am unnerved,
station observed, seat on the 2-free day 16.09 train reserved,

Disembark, footfalls skip a nifty 2-step through the post-work park,
the free-time frieze en route, a sanctuary breeze of homewards commute,

Those demons cars evenly spaced, at every turn they are placed,
but the finishing line streets dissolve as I brandish my relaxed resolve,

Safely settled in a cosy cuddle of creative mind, alligned, now to unwind,
thoughts to etch, ideas to sketch, inhaling hearty breaths of home stretch.

Irish Landscapes Kilkenny Nigel Borrington

Have a great weekend 🙂 🙂