TurbulencešŸ„€

TurbulencešŸ„€


Sweet quietude, unburden me
And steal my aching bones away
To pastures far from mankind’s din
Where nature’s music ever plays

My world! My world is altering!
My soul no longer settles here
Where is the hush of better days
The gracefulness of yesteryear?

Sweet solitude and sylvan bliss
Withdraw the seed of my unrest
And bind my heart to wilder things
That shelter me from turbulence

My feet shall never threaten thee
Nor stain thy blessed wilderness
For in your hearth, all that I am
Is owed to you, and I am blest

O fleeting birds and opulence
Come hither, sing your melodies
And cradle me within your arms
When sorrow brings me to my knees

With heavy heart, I’ll rise again
To brave the tides of turbulence
For knowing you are there for me
Will ever be my recompense

~ Amelia Dashwood Ā© 2017, All Rights Reserved.

Yesteryear

Yesteryear

DmIrcPluVsA~Yesteryear~

once upon a golden time…

we suffered
not without a fight
we stood
for what we felt was right
and fought
against relentless tides

we saw our faults
with open eyes
we searched the stars
for far-off life

we strived to keep our human rights
and rescued nations from demise

we waged a war against starvation
ousting fascists of damnation
oil was not a stipulation
used against our liberation

children did not want for more
tabloids did not favour war

we drafted laws
and proclamations
to support
not starve the poor

we mastered science
cured diseases
revered life throughout the seasons

read the verses of dead poets
and aspired to grasp
their meanings

life was lived with little debt
giving alms with no regret

we spoke for those
who could not speak
unsheltered by the internet

we welcomed knowledge
not disdain
we revered champions
not the vain

we fed our families
love and virtue…

values lost to video games

we nurtured plots
with stainless seeds
without prosperity or greed

we passed on wisdom of the ages
through the roots of ancestry

we recognised our strengths
our weakness
prized divergence
praised uniqueness

loved the land we stood upon
hands on hearts
we rallied on

we fought for one
and won for all

we valued age
from young to old

we did not want
or crave the fortunes
of a banker’s filthy gold

we stood in solidarity
in times of deep austerity
weĀ helped our neighbours
readily

andĀ did not scare so easily

we listened well
admitting failure
taught good manners
and behaviour

ate our greens
and valued Nature

life back then was never greater

Ā© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Time

Time

~Time~

Do not
waste your time
endlessly navigating
the ferocious tides
of society’s
artificial designs

do not greet
the morning sunrise
with regret or a sigh
as you sell your soul
from 9 to 5
building someone else’s dreams
in a corporate landmine
just to stay alive

do not judge beauty
on what the media defines
to be your primary duty

because truly

your authenticity
exhibits the rarities
and beloved ancestry
of the tree that will lead you
to the roots
that bore your story

why disguise your glory?

do not build
your hopes and dreams
or grand ideals
without first
making a deal with yourself
to turn them into memories
that are real

go

live out your days
with fire in your soul
grasping your liberty
and building goals
that are brave
and wild
and bold

and know

no matter what you are told
by those with riches to behold
ALL of life is precious
rich or poor
young or old

be humble

because
when you are six feet under
when your body meets the coal
your story will remain
but not your gold

and when the time comes by
when you must whisper your last goodbyes
to the birds
the trees
and the iridescent skies

may you greet your final sunrise with a smile

because you lived a life so wild
that you are ready
to expire

Ā© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Photography Tasha Tudor, by Richard Brown

The Longest Night

The Longest Night

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~The Longest Night~

Dwellers scurry hastily into their humble lairs to fashion dreams of luxury as winter fills the air. A stillness settles on the land in waves of calm repose; fine clusters of Earth’s symmetry reveal a timeless robe.
The snowflakes sparkle flawlessly like glistening stars above, inviting soothing poetry and timeworn tales of love. The longest night is honoured with historic celebrations, inspiring heartfelt promises and hopeful salutations.
The drummers thunder gallantly upon a dawning sky to welcome back the growing days and bright, beloved light. With open hands and open hearts, they hail the rising sun, a legacy of endless faith and hope for everyone.
Then every soul yields blessings upon every beating heart, united by the values of an old and timeless path. As winter sweeps her magic over hills and shimmering lanes; far, far away spring promises the birth of brighter days.
Ā© 2016 Dashwood, All rights reserved.
The Humble Road

The Humble Road

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~The Humble Road~

I need not want for fame or merit, precious jewels upon my neck, fine fashions weaved of lavish fabrics, palaces to call my nest; I need not want for beauty that coerces me to sell my soul, or profits of a greedy banker, hoarding all his filthy gold.

For mine shall be a humble den, a pot of tea, a window pane, a feline friend to greet me through the hours of my treasured days. A beehive’s hum shall soothe my ears as sunlight pours upon my rest; a feathered pilgrim twittering shall be the chorus I love best.

Grant me the whispers of a breeze as I sleep by a glowing hearth, a belly that is humbly filled, a heart connected to the earth, and I shall live a happy life, deficient of conformity; I’ll walk an old but gentle road, conversant with simplicity.

And when my time is withering, I’ll look towards Atlantic skies with hand on heart I’ll know I’ve lived a life that fortune cannot buy. For ours is not to plunder Earth with blindfolds fixed upon our heads; mankind was born to praise and love the path of which he meekly treads.

No riches shall ensnare my soul, for comfort lies within the land; dear Mother Earth sustains my life and swells the cup within my hand. And all I am I owe to her, the blood that runneth through my veins, dear maker of my merry soul and guardian of my precious days.

Ā© 2016 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Photo: Tasha Tudor, by Richard Brown