In fields where whispers of history lay, The soil remembers every tear and sigh, Seamus, with words like gentle clay,…
In the warmth of evening’s glow, she stands,With gentle hands that molded my soul,Her voice, a soft lullaby of the…
Under the Irish sky where whispers grow, A gentle voice once danced with grace, With every word, he sowed the…
In fields where whispers dance with the breeze, Heaney’s verses bloom like the morning light, Each line a journey through…
In fields where shadows linger long, Heaney weaves his timeless song, Of lands where silence speaks of fear, And echoes…
In the quiet fields where words once bloomed, A gentle voice now whispers through the trees, The echoes of a…
In fields where echoes softly play, Heaney’s words guide, light the way. From boglands deep to skies so wide, His…
In the shadow of the mossy stones, Where whispers of old wounds reside, Seamus scribes in quiet tones, Stories of…
In the quiet of the kitchen’s hum, Her hands held stories yet unsung, Through gentle motions, love was spun, A…
In the silent halls of memory, Where words once danced with grace, A poet’s voice now softly fades, Yet leaves…