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Профиль

Gréachán

Профиль Vively

Metaphysical poetry www.greachan.com

My Native Tongue Temptation bids me spend my gold elsewhere, Yet every blackbird, feathering dawn from thorn, returns my soul its hidden coin. The wind translates no hill so faithfully as that old speech inhabits me. Thus what I seem to carry is but dust; this treasure carries me. #vss365

0172

Songbird 2 Her liquid notes slip warm into my ear; Temptation longs to press her to my skin, To cage her pulse where only I might hear That gentle tongue pour all its sweetness in. Yet she would lose the wildness she possessed, So free she flies, still singing in my breast. #vss365

2263

Songbird 1 She spills her song, and all my senses lean; Temptation stirs to gather her within, To make my ribs the cage she sings between, And feel her wing beat trembling through my skin. But love must leave untouched what makes it fly: She sings and every note becomes a smile. #vss365

0163

Let others measure theirs by hand or hour; Ours has no clock, no boundary, no coast. The wind that combs the heather has no power To say where breath becomes the breathing ghost.

0101

When peace arrived, it didn’t enter me, 𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑   𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡   𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔   𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒, as salt inhabits every wandering sea. #vss365

54011

My longing is not lack, but love concealed; A wound by which my damaged is healed.

0132

The moon lies broken in the mountain well, Yet every shard contains her whole desire. So distance that should make our spirits dwell Apart, instead creates invisible fire. Mem’ry arrives like rain on moss-lined stone, And makes the harshest distance feel like home. #vss365

2194

And love, once true, for no more distance strives, Already home, and yet each dawn arrives. #vss365

1367

For quiet is no country won by will, But dew descending where the heart grows still; The more I chase, the swifter flies the dove, Till, yielding all, I find its nest in Love.

1307

i write our hope where every furrow weaves a stunning gospel through the patient leaves; until the wind, made just by every breath, outsings the ancient disciplines of death.

093

So is the soul that fears have governed most, Once it has learned what all its griefs are worth: It grows as plain and settled as a coast That wears the patient sculpture of the earth. #vss365

Deepest Peacewww.greachan.com
2225

the moon unspools a road nightly upon the sea, a long, bright rung of silver laid like a dream someday I w i l l w a l k to the end . #vss365

34612

You know it, now, always and forever: ~~~~ As tides turn homewards under moon and star, my heart returns to you, however far. #vss365

1264

How strange, my love, that while I face the night, your sky ignites with morning's early burn, one earth beneath us spins from dark to light, where night and day forever chase and turn. #vss365

1193

Look here, in the grass a thousand small And trembling globes hang, balanced, but unbound, No bigger than a tear, and yet they call The entire heaven, upon the ground. #vss365

2479

No border marks the passage of the swallow, no treaty binds the tide to ask the shore; the seed will cross wherever wind will follow, and roots ignore the lines that maps have borne. What line was ever drawn to govern whales? So why this desk to balance us in scales? #vss365

4205

And when the night turns wild, and when the pines Bow low like penitents before the gale, And lightning sprints the dark in sudden lines, And thunder rolls its boulders down the hills, This too is language - fury's just a phrase In that same speech that built the dawn's calm blaze. #vss365

1265

Loss was my jailer once, her chains the night, Yet through her very headwind did I break, as larks ascend when the night has resigned to die. ~~~ No pain holds the one who learns the sky's wide creed, I am the wind now, and the wind is freed! #vss365

1274

You are my headwind, and i am a sea bird hung trembling there, and pinned above the sea, held not by calm, but by the wind I wrestle, no stillness but the play of you and me. #vss365

3464

A samara does not grieve to leave the bough; it falls because its falling is the plan. Some soft design already tells it how to break, to root, to grow where it began. So maybe nothing truly falls apart; the tree still stands through all that will depart. #vss365

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