Leftover Dew

This a very old poem that I posted on ‘Go Dog Go Cafe’ yesterday’s ‘Throwback Friday’, and I’m posting again here on my site for you to read…

 

Leftover Dew

 

I know I’m far from perfect.

I make awful mistakes.

I know I’m overly loud.

I dominate and crowd.

 

I do have a big heart.

A soul so soft.

I do love to hold and to kiss.

To cuddle and caress.

 

I feel your reluctance.

Your barrier fence.

I feel like a fog over you.

Like the morning dew.

 

Will you ever need another?

Or love another.

Will you ever let me remain.?

Or look for me again.

 

 

“The Hosting Of The Shee”, Lyrics by The Waterboys

The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: ‘Away, come away’
‘Away, come away, away, away’.The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.

The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: ‘Away, come away’
‘Away, come away, away, away’.

Our armsa-wave, our lips are apart
And if anything gaze on our rushing band
We come between him and the hope of his heart
We come between him and the deed of his hand.

The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: ‘Away, come away’
‘Away, come away, away, away, away, away…’.

Ivor Steven (c)  Sept 2016