Aislyn’s Oak Tree
If prose is not your thing, perhaps rest here beneath Aislyn’s oak tree and enjoy some amateur poetry! Please feel free to react and help to improve future poems!
A rose petal sheds a tear onto a leaf below The perfumed orb catching the light as it dances blithely over the veins And I, a dewdrop, watching, enchanted, enraptured knowing close is much too far coalesce, converge, kiss until one love remains
The name of this blog probably seems fairly arbitrary to many of you. The words themselves are nothing complicated – “Celtic” and “Riverside”. Most people will have at least a notion about what it means to be Celtic, and a riverside is self-descriptive. But why? I grew up on a steady diet of mostly English literature with a smattering of…
A river flows forth from a cyan lake Reflects the heavens, serenity’s wake It meanders through a soft, snowy glen Then dimples back neath rosy fields, Eden A river flows forth from its mouth to mine I gaze back to the lake, all glow and shine It mirrors my love ‘fore setting to sea A river flows forth and it…
Devout, she is my religion everything in which I believe my source of everlasting life the gospel of my mass After all, what is religion without the promise of forever? With her I am immortal however brief it lasts
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