A Month With Yeats: Day Thirty

from ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’

“And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,” —W.B. Yeats

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The oasis of serenity when everything’s at peace
When things go the other way and I’m still in one piece
Blue sky with cotton like clouds, calm sea, green grass
The sun so strong and I have to wear my sunglasses
Birds flying and singing above me, ah, this is heaven!
I’m distinct and I could feel that I’m one in a billion
The joy of being here, the freedom I feel of love and bliss
And my knight just came back to give me a kiss
This is my favourite place when I want to be alone
For sins I have done, a quiet place to atone
When I want to say thanks for all the blessing I get
Life is wonderful and I have no regret
Or when I want to drown my sorrow and pain
Learn my lesson and get up again

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

For: A Month With Yeats: Day Thirty, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #30

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A Month With Yeats: Day Twenty-Nine

Coming to the end of the month with a quote that opens up a lot of possibilities. This one is from ‘No Second Troy’.

‘Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?’—W.B. Yeats

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She might not know it, but her beauty astounds everyone
Second to none, men of courage fight for her sun
Who could blame them for she is such of noble desire
Her equal splendour both inside and outside to admire
Is this woman real or just a fiction?

All these affection she just wants to shun
As normal as she could live, she needs to have fun
She could also be shallow, like she’s worried of her attire
She might not know it

Of sound mind, she likes to have a bargain
And of course, she likes the day to brighten
For stones, she likes emerald and sapphire
And one day, she likes her own knight or esquire
And men battle for her, be they soldier or captain
She might not know it*

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

* Rondeau

For: A Month With Yeats: Day Twenty-Nine, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #29

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A Month With Yeats: Day Twenty-Eight

Another quote from the poem ‘He Mourns for the Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved, And Longs For The End Of The World’

‘I would that the Boar without bristles had come from the West
And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky’ —W.B. Yeats

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When the sun and moon link the day
Is the world full of hope or darkness?
Is the magic wand working or in doomsday?
Are we looking for hatred or can we cope?

As we walk in the woods it became darker
And the strong wind caught us in surprise
Are we going to a battle without our armour?
Do we continue even if we hear the cries?

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

For: A Month With Yeats: Day Twenty-Eight, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #28

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A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Seven

Today’s quote, chosen to coincide with birthdays and celebrations, is the opening to Yeats’ lovely poem, “A Prayer for my Daughter’.

‘Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on.’ —W.B. Yeats

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Grant me the wish for my only son
The howling wind and strong breeze
In his sleep he’s thinking of some sheep
And some mermaids swaying in the seas

I’m under the arches of the bridge
Thinking of the son’s future
He’s thinking of some sheep in his sleep
After that sleep he comes out fresher

I only want what’s best for the son
With the wife and his career
In his sleep he’s thinking of some sheep
And in the forest foxes and deer*

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

* ZaniLa Rhyme

For: A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Seven, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #27

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A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Six

Today’s quote is from ‘The White Birds’.

‘I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!’ W.B. Yeats

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As the birds soar up the sky
And the sea as blue as your eyes
Builds its nest in the tree, magpie
I’m buoyed up as you are my prize

White foams of the sea are rising
And the dreamers flicker in doze
Don’t forget the stars in bidding
Weariness of the day in prose

As the leaves fall down from branches
The crimson flame of the sunset
The joy I’ve waited in ages
The music heard from the quartet

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

For: A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Six, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #26

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A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Five

From the lovely ‘Song of Wandering Aengus’.

‘And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.’—W.B. Yeats

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When someone plucks apple blossom
Fire was flickering in the woods
I hear your voice like some balsam

A kiss of the wind carpe diem
Your hazel eyes bright as they should
When someone plucks apple blossom

With magic wand wish you could come
In my head, memories stood
I hear your voice like some balsam

Twinkle must have faded so glum
Moths were soaring by the firewood
When someone plucks apple blossom

Leaves rustled the sound of a drum
Still there memories of childhood
I hear your voice like some balsam

Times were golden and so blithesome
In shining armour your knighthood
When someone plucks apple blossom
I hear your voice like some balsam*

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

* Villanelle

For: A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Five, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #25

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A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-four

Today’s quote is from ‘Easter, 1916’.

‘We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead; ‘ —W.B. Yeats ‘

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How do we remember the men we’ve lost?
In our dreams we tossed and tossed
How can we tell them they’re still being missed?
Combined lyricism with technical skill like Liszt
That every day, especially on this crisp autumn day
We think of them and start to pray
Their memories still linger and they’re not forgotten
And our witness the moon and the sun
That what they’ve done are truly appreciated
We won’t be here had they not spilled blood
Would wearing poppies and lighting candles do?
Would that be enough for what they’ve gone through?
Men of valour and courage going to war
From a distance a tune from a guitar
Every generation, there are some reasons
Some privates, sergeants and captains
Of why men waged wars against each other
We send them there, some still boys and girls
Not knowing whether they’d still come back
The experience they’ve got, we don’t really know
And when they come back, are they still whole?
Our heroes, our loved ones, their sacrifices

(c) ladyleemanila 2017

For: A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-four, Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #24

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