The Paradox of Our Time
We have multiplied our possessions but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life, we've added years to life not life to years.
Along the Road, by Robert Browning Hamilton
I walked a mile with Pleasure
Ireland Speaks No Language
Ireland speaks no language I cannot hear with my heart. Sings no songs I cannot feel by their touch on my lips. Holds no love I cannot embrace with my thoughts. Ireland listens quietly, Unconditionally. ©Willeke Van Eeckhoutte, 2013, 2016 #1916 #Ireland1916 #EasterMonday #RTE1916 #Easter1916 #1916Rising #EasterRising © Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner are strictly prohibited.
William Butler Yeats @150
William Butler Yeats: Irish prose writer, dramatist and poet; Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. 1865-1939; compiled the Oxford Book of Modern Verse. My favourite Irish author would have been 150 years today. Ireland, myself included, celebrates a man so talented, his words still touches people today. Two years ago, and on my birthday, I visited Yeats’s grave in Drumcliffe, County Sligo, Ireland. Because he was one of my favourites since my teenage years, it was a bucket-list moment that was finally realized! I wished I was in Sligo this weekend, but I’m sure I will go back before too long, especially since his house, Thoor Ballylee, has finally been opened to the public, something many fans had been asking for a very long time.
Wise words
While I’m not a religious person, I do respect others who are. Perhaps with the dawn of Pope Francis, I am starting to feel more open to experiencing religion. It was with this in mind that I stumbled onto a nice poem by Pope Francis that I wish to share. So for everyone, religious or not, this poem is for you. Enjoy as I have enjoyed reading it and feel free to share and reblog. Don’t cry for what you lost, fight for what you have. Don’t cry for the dead, fight for what was born in you. Don’t cry for those who abandoned you, fight for who’s with you. Don’t cry for who hates you, fight for what you want. Don’t cry for your past, your present struggle. Don’t…
The Valuable Time of Maturity
Upon the approach of the New Year, I would like to share with you a poem from renowned Brazilian poet Mário De Andrade called The Valuable Time of Maturity. “I counted my years and discovered that I have fewer years left to live compared to the time I have lived until now. I feel like a boy who won a package of treats. The first he eats with pleasure, but when he realizes that there are a few left, he then starts to contemplate upon them.
Dublin Speaks No Language
Dublin speaks no language I cannot hear with my heart. Sings no song I cannot Feel by the touch on my lips. Hold no love, I cannot Embrace with my thoughts. Dublin listens quietly, Unconditionally. ©Willeke Van Eeckhoutte ©Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2013. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
