Comments on: Postcard from Everywhere http://www.richardcotman.com/etnobofin/2009/01/postcard-from-everywhere/ A Kiwi in Paris, sweating on the metro Wed, 25 Jan 2012 09:27:44 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: Richard http://www.richardcotman.com/etnobofin/2009/01/postcard-from-everywhere/comment-page-1/#comment-453 Richard Mon, 05 Jan 2009 20:21:24 +0000 http://www.richardcotman.com/etnobofin/?p=1299#comment-453 Exactly Tash. At least someone gets me :-) Exactly Tash. At least someone gets me :-)

]]> By: tash http://www.richardcotman.com/etnobofin/2009/01/postcard-from-everywhere/comment-page-1/#comment-451 tash Mon, 05 Jan 2009 03:01:10 +0000 http://www.richardcotman.com/etnobofin/?p=1299#comment-451 there are twelve little pieces of my heart each wrapped up in parcels of history two blue eyes, one from my granddaddy the other from my father two hazel black rings around my iris from my mothers deep strong heart i have the colour of her freckles the shape of her hands for making things the way of her feet from walking in the name of my grandmother over long distances all in the sake of grace i have the voice of my family name in the absence of a father i wear it loud redeeming something better, stronger, clearer we landed on a western shore all of us strangers scattered together by a skim of fate and chance mothers and fathers all, brothers and sisters from the northern lands with misfits acquired among us black and brown and irish hues my english blood a tinge of blue i am pieces of history, northern sands and mills and things small towns built on distant dreams and long ago tales of america the distant shores of australia and all the darklands in between i am pieces of history, riverside miner families dark ginger hair and a whispered prayer for far off better days somewhere the south and western coast a rugged, barren heartland start there is a bloodline under my skin that makes some sense of the mess of me a line of trouble and a spring of hope and under blue eyes something starts.. there are twelve little pieces of my heart
each wrapped up in parcels of history
two blue eyes, one from my granddaddy
the other from my father
two hazel black rings around my iris
from my mothers deep strong heart
i have the colour of her freckles
the shape of her hands for making things
the way of her feet from walking
in the name of my grandmother
over long distances all in the sake of grace

i have the voice of my family name
in the absence of a father i wear it loud
redeeming something better, stronger, clearer
we landed on a western shore all of us strangers
scattered together by a skim of fate and chance
mothers and fathers all, brothers and sisters
from the northern lands with misfits acquired among us
black and brown and irish hues
my english blood a tinge of blue

i am pieces of history, northern sands and mills and things
small towns built on distant dreams and long ago tales of america
the distant shores of australia and all the darklands in between
i am pieces of history, riverside miner families
dark ginger hair and a whispered prayer for far off better days somewhere
the south and western coast a rugged, barren heartland start

there is a bloodline under my skin
that makes some sense of the mess of me
a line of trouble and a spring of hope
and under blue eyes something starts..

]]>