Irishbookish wrote:Methinks you'll find it somewhere in the acrid smell of peat burning in the grate of a cosy home....
... a cosy home where the mum has just locked the screaming kids in the cellar and incapacitated the hard-drinking husband with one mighty blow with a bottle, to be able to finally sit down in a swinging chair next to the fireplace and read a romantic novel.
Irishbookish wrote:Maybe further along the rolling hills, houses dotted about the paddocks, low stonewalled farms, about the horses, sheep, cattle. ...
... sheep, cattle, lowing and bleating mournfully as if they knew they’ll soon enough turn into fatty hamburgers, steaks and cutlets.
Irishbookish wrote:Fleeting shadows cross your path or flirting in the periphery of your vision which spark the imagination and fire the blood to provide a warmth that has nothing to do with the sun....
... that has nothing to do with the sun, more likely with the fever caught by wandering insufficiently dressed over the moors last night, after having to flee your true love’s bedroom upon the unexpected arrival of her husband.
Irishbookish wrote:In whispers of the fey, or faeries, lore and where magick seems entirely possible, so gives you pause if you enter a cave and smell the ancient, dank earth, look across the countryside from the battlements of a castle after climbing the winding, stone staircase....
.... climbing the winding, stone staircase, panting heavily as the staircase was long and your lungs are not as strong as they used to be in the days of youth (blame all the cigarettes) only to bump into a locked door with the sign "sorry, the lookout tower is closed today".
Irishbookish wrote:Maybe as you sit quietly by a running stream in a wooded area watching fey lights dance about your head, or sit in solitude in a field with the sheep watching the mist roll over the hills and feel the chill seep under your skin...
... under your skin knowing that you’ll catch a cold once again and be reduced to shivering in the bed... and not having to go to work, thus having plenty of time for writing paddy songs.
Yes. You are perfectly right. It IS inspiring.
