"faulds" poems
O were my Love yon lilac fair,
Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing;
How I *** mourn when it was torn
By autumn wild and winter rude!
But I *** sing on wanton wing
When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.
O gin my Love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa’,
And I mysel a drap o’ dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa’;
O there, beyond expression blest,
I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;
Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley’d awa’ by Phoebus’ light.
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O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing;
How I *** mourn when it was torn
By autumn wild and winter rude!
But I *** sing on wanton wing
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
O gin my Love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa';
O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
There is no controlling life.
Try corralling a lightning bolt,
containing a tornado. Dam a
stream and it will create a new
channel. Resist, and the tide
will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry
you to higher ground. The only
safety lies in letting it all in –
the wild and the weak; fear,
fantasies, failures and success.
When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.
In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 10:12 AM UTC