In fields where whispers of history lay, The soil remembers every tear and sigh, Seamus, with words like gentle clay,…
In fields where shadows linger long, Heaney weaves his timeless song, Of lands where silence speaks of fear, And echoes…
In the shadow of the mossy stones, Where whispers of old wounds reside, Seamus scribes in quiet tones, Stories of…
In fields where shadows whisper low, The earth remembers silent cries, Heaney’s words like rivers flow, Beneath the troubled Irish…
In fields where silence once held sway, Shadows of conflict linger still, Heaney’s words carve the clay, Sculpting peace from…
In fields where silence once held sway, Now echoes of the past remain, The poet’s pen, a gentle guide, Through…
In fields where whispers once took flight, The echoes of the past reside. Seamus, with a pen like gentle might,…
In fields where shadows whisper low, The troubles churn, a bitter flow. Seamus weaves his words with care, A poet’s…
In the shadow of the rolling hills, Where whispers of the past reside, Heaney’s words weave tales of strife, Of…
In the mist of dawn, he wrote of strife, Where shadows cast on a fractured life. His words, a mirror…