I heard a whisper
Coming from the trees
And, in that moment
I was gone,
Gone away
To return, to where I’d come from
By Athey Thompson
Do You Hear It, Too?
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Tag Archives: Poems
Lily of the Valley
May’s birth flower is Muguet de Bois, Lily of the Valley. Every year on my birthday, my mom would give me a brand new set of Coty perfume and dusting powder. I felt SO grown up! I savored its divine fragrance as long as I could, and then stashed the empty bottle in my drawers to scent my clothes.
A favourite flower in my garden to see, if you ask me, just has to be The Lily of the Valley.
Known to be the May Lily, this sweet scented, dainty white bell represents a return to happiness and innocence. How delighted I be to see my Lily of the Valley, as blooming it be in ye month of May.
Often found neath leafy bushes, or hidden away within the nooks and crannies. Tread carefully mind. As under its flapping green leaves you’ll find its wee white bells dangling on a tiny stem.
The Lily of the Valley symbolises Pure Love…They say Lucky in Love it be that’s why it be tradition for brides to have Lily of the Valley amongst their wedding flowers.
There be many an old Myth told about the faery folk and the Lily of the Valley. In Ireland it is known to be “The Faery Ladder”.
Little thoughts written by Athey Thompson
Photos taken at home by Athey Thompson
Tides Fall and Rise
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Love’s Way
Love shall always
Find a way
Even through
The darkest of day
Love shall always
Find a way
Even through
The darkest of day
A Little Poem by Athey Thompson
Pic curated from Pinterest. Credit to the artist.
Peach Blossoms
Sometimes the only healing modality for all this stress and anxiety is to go outside and work in the garden. Flowers don’t care if democracy is crumbling; there is regenerative rebirth every spring, no matter what or whom is orchestrating our demise.
After the rain, all my fruit trees burst forth with glorious flowers. It’s a small tree, but full of life. I’m continually fascinated with photographing raindrops.
Infinite peach-blossom shades,
her rouged and powdered cheeks.
Spring breezes help her break my heart,
blowing peach petals from her dress. — Yuan Zhen
Poetic Truth : Pity The Nation
We are living in sad and scary times. Lawrence Ferlinghetti wrote the poem “Pity the Nation” in 2007, drawing inspiration from Khalil Gibran’s original work of the same title, published in 1933. Their words are a reminder about the cycles of history.
We’ve been warned.
PITY THE NATION
Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerers
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture
Pity the nation that knows
No other language but its own
And no other culture but its own
Pity the nation whose breath is money
And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed
Pity the nation oh pity the people
who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away
My country, tears of thee
Sweet land of liberty!
Lawrence Ferlinghetti, 2007
PITY THE NATION
By Khalil Gibran, 1933
Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine-press.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
I See You
I had another lucid dream about my kitty, Bandit. She was seated on the sofa, paws tucked up under her body, and she was simply looking at me.
When she was alive, she would often stare at me, right through to my bones, with such intense love in her eyes that I’d have to stop whatever I was doing and bask in the feeling of being so very loved. SIGH. I surely do miss that girl.
And, there
In the mists of my memory
I see you.
And, there
In the mists of my memory
You shall always be.
A little poem written by Athey Thompson
Reach For The Light
When things are as bad as they appear to be here in the US, and with growing anxiety every day, sometimes all we can do is breathe and reach for the light wherever we can.
Light is the thing we seek
Within the darkest of day,
let it show us the way.
Little words by Athey Thompson
“Reaching for that Star” by Florian Ceglarek
Enchanted Places
Those Enchanted places
We go to
And, whether they be real
Or whether
They be made up places
That we go to
Only we shall know
Only we shall go
A little poem by Athey Thompson
Art by Marieke Nelissen for Jacquie Lawson via Pinterest
A Little Fairy Magic
I don’t know about you, but I need some fairies to perform a little magic right about now.
The Fairy Forest
The faery forest glimmered
Beneath an ivory moon,
The silver grasses shimmered
Against a faery tune.
Beneath the silken silence
The crystal branches slept,
And dreaming thro’ the dew-fall
The cold white blossoms wept.
Sara Teasdale
Art credit: Midsummer Eve by Edward Robert Hughes
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 