Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry,
And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky.
And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you Big River.
Then I’m gonna sit right here until I die.
– Johnny Cash
#Perfection
To be a river in the next life would be,
Busy, refreshing, timeless and free,
The water rushing, swirling, passing all by,
While on my banks, beautiful trees sway,
Colourful birds screeching their calls,
Fly up and far away.
My banks cut through bright green fields,
I can see busy machinery and people cutting wheat,
While nearby sheep and cattle meander down to drink and wet their feet,
I’d be sorry to leave behind the quiet countryside,
Further along my banks I’d find a hectic busy loud city,
Finally, here I am, the end of the river mouth to pour into the sea,
Timeless this river, never an end,
Another new life for me.
This poem was written by my late mother, Christine Elaine Verkys, while she fruitlessly battled a terminal disease to stay with us. She was the very lifeforce of our family, and after she passed, sadly so did everything else. Personally, there have been few happy days since. Me a River features on her memorial stone, which stays with me to this day.
Here's to you, and another year without you.
By J.R.R. Tolkien
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
By H.W Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Dan Verkys 