Lyrics: "Broken Wings" by Dougie Maclean

"Broken Wings" by Dougie Maclean

A tall tree
Turn and face the west
Oh we're running with the wind
A high clifftop
We're waiting with the rest
For this journey to begin
But these broken wings won't fly
These broken wings won't fly at all

And oh how we laugh
But maybe we should crawl
And ask to be excused
We shout loudly
Have answers to it all
Oh but we have been refused
But these broken wings won't fly
These broken wings won't fly at all

Girl child
You're dancing with the stream
Growing with the silver trees
Your young questions
You ask me what it means
Oh but I am not at ease
But these broken wings won't fly
These broken wings won't fly at all

Poem: So I say: Mind, don't you sleep by Ramprasad

I usually don't like these mystical poems where the poet refers to him/herself by name, but this one I did enjoy.

So I say: Mind, don't you sleep by Ramprasad (Ramprasad Sen)
English version by Leonard Nathan and Clinton Seely



So I say: Mind, don't you sleep
Or Time is going to get in and steal from you.

You hold on to the sword of Kali's name.
The shield of Tara's name.

Can Death overwhelm you?
Sound Kali's name on a horn and sound it loud.

Chant "Durga, Durga,"
Until you bring the dawn around.

If She won't save you in this Dark Age --.
But how many great sinners have been saved!

Is Ramprasad then
So unsalvageable a rogue?

Fic: With the Wine Pooling at My Feet

Title: With the Wine Pooling at My Feet
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Dru/Spike
Rating: G
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Notes: Written for a prompt at Open on Sunday: wine

Calmed by the cool darkness of the wine cellar, Drusilla let her hand drift before the bottles until she’d found the perfect one. Searching, she found Spike staring into the night. “The wine has gone flat,” she offered.

He didn’t turn to her. “Can get more.”

Her thoughts turned to those heady days, just after he’d been Turned, when William had pledged his undying love. “My passion for you is like a fine, rare wine,” he’d told her.

Glass shattered against the floor. The wine splashed against her, pooling at her feet. “Don’t bother. This particular bottle can’t be replaced.”