Rhythm rolls over your poetrylike green hills roll over your countryside,wet with words as the grass with the morning dew.Tend to your stanzas as a shepherd would his flock.And when the poem reaches maturity, carve it with the precision of a butcher, but drink only its blood.- Dean O.What is poetry like for you? Drop a line below in the comments' section and let me know.
Help a starving artist! Share "Ireland" on facebook
by using the readcast button on theleft column. That way, I will be able to focus on writing you more quality content.Read more of