Ireland Speaks No Language

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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 & […]

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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 […]

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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 […]

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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 […]

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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 […]

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W.B. Yeats in Sligo, Ireland

In July I visited Sligo in the west of Ireland, where William Butler Yeats is engraved in Drumcliffe near his beloved Ben Bulben mountain. Since I am a big fan of Irish literature, and have a very definite weakness for Yeats’ poetry and life, I took several pictures from a different angle. I was trying […]

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The Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some […]

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Invictus, by William Ernest Henley

Invictus Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath […]

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The Harp That Once Through Tara’s Halls

The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory’s thrill is o’er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more!  No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara […]

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W.B. Yeats’ pain

“If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise” (William Butler Yeats) © Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2012. 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 […]

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My mum

Tomorrow I celebrate my 10th anniversary of living in Ireland. Somehow it’s a surreal anniversary, not only because of how time has flown by so fast since the day of my leaving but also because of the strength of some of my dearest family members have shown over the past years, especially my mum. My […]

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W.B. Yeats, the collected poems

“You that would judge me, do not judge alone this book or that, come to this hallowed place where my friends’ portraits hang and look thereon; Ireland’s history in their lineaments trace; think where man’s glory most begins and ends and say my glory was I had such friends.” (William Butler Yeats) © Willeke Van […]

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