The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XXI~

June 26, 2005 | bentfeather/Poets of the Lair

[Soaring Feather]

My Dragon Fly and Me

If I could be a Dragon Fly
and wing my way through the sky
I would never be shy
just me and my Dragon Fly!

By moonlight we ride the wind
chase the comets tail for fun
by day we would hide from the sun
our fragile wings would come undone

On darkest nights we would use
fireflies as our guide
we would dip and we would glide
through the heavens open wide
and scatter diamonds in the night sky
my Dragon Fly and me...

And we would wing past our lovers
silent in the night...
to kiss their face in our flight
much to their surprise and delight
my Dragon Fly and me in sight...

Such a view do we share
away up here in the air
of breezes soft through our hair
my Dragon Fly and me a pair...

bentfeather©

[Spotsy]

LOL!! I like waffles!

That's good, because wait until you see what tomorrow is - *grumble* - National Waffle Day.

[NicknamedBob]

Aw, Dang!

Somebody stepped on my pancake! (Thanks for the use of the griddle, Spotsy!)

[Soaring Feather]

ROTFLOL!!!!

[Soaring Feather]

Tread marks on pancakes
what will happen next
little pot holes for syrup
yupper, waffles are best.

[NicknamedBob]

Waffles are for Wintertime.

Helps you get a grip on the day!

[Soaring Feather]

LOL! Is that a pun??

[HopeandGlory]

Oh no!!!
Nation Waffle Day?
I've been thwarted,
thoughts of pancakes,
been aborted.

Waffles pancakes
pancakes waffles
decisions, decisions
will be my downfall.
Oh heck . . . I'll just take them all . . .;-)

rim 8/23/05

Goodnight everyone . . . it's been loads of fun . . . see you tomorrow.

[Kathy in Alaska]

National Waffle Day! LOL!

[NicknamedBob]

"Is that a pun??"

No worse than yours. I could have made it a poem, but it wouldn't have gotten any better.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[Soaring Feather]

Pancakes motivate you, Hope
but waffles are my love
my heart does a pitter patter
at the thought of tread marks
on my food...;)

[Texas Songwriter]

BARNS

The door was already open,
So I decided to walk through
The grass beaded by the dew,
Before the sun climbed too high,
Or anybody knew.
I stepped into the barn,
To seek its history.
To resurrect it in my mind,
Its personality.
I love barns.
I especially love old barns
Where early morning shafts
Of light built by dust and rays,
Always moving motion,
But never changing shape.
I love the smell barns give,
With a musty aged scent,
A wisp of seasoned compost,composted through the years,
A time through many seasons,
But always time well spent.
It wheels me back to my garden,
Where if given just a chance,
That seasoning left behind,
Would make my flowers dance.
Now, I love barns that are not too old.
You might say that they were new.
I especially love the hay barn.
Getting ready for cold weather,
As it slowly fills with summer grasses.
The smell....there's nothing better.
Go into a hay barn
The day the hay's put up.
Breath deep beside a bale of hay,
You'd swear a coffee cup
Full and freshly brewed,
So rich in its olefaction,
You'd hardly know the truth,
About it being hay.
Now, don't get me wrong,
I love horsebarns too.
And the anterooms that hold the tack and smell of leather too.
In horsebarns, I love a concrete floor,
Where the clip-clop of the horses hooves,
Make a sound unlike any other.
I love to bury my face against my horses neck,
And breath that air deep and seasoned by the horse.
Now, don't get me wrong,
I love the cattle barn too.
Amid the mangers welcome sign,
As winter sets the mood.
Ammonias on the wind,
As the cattles nostrils blow a fog,
Chewing on its hay and cud.
Laying on a bed of straw.
I love all barns.
Barns that hold machines.
Tractors,cutters,bailers,brush-hogs,
And bailing wire to fix 'em all.
So there they are,
Some of the great loves of my life.
Some barns of many memories.
A different kind of wife.

I loved my Dads old barn.
When he passed, I finally got up the nerve to go
To this hallowed place.
I recollected time we spent there,
As tears traced down my face.
Heck, I was a grown up man crying there alone,
With rays of light for memories,
And trying to hold on
To the ether all around me,
And time we'd spent out there,
In that barn of many memories
That Dad and I would always share.

Jeffrey D.Russell
copyright July 24, 2005

[Soaring Feather]

Hello!!


Absolutely beautiful. Oh what memories your poem stirs in me.

As a child, I lived on a small farm, my grandmothers. We made hay using pitch forks. When the wagons rolled into the barn all the kids got on high beams and stomped down the hay. The heat, the light rays beaming through the barn boards, the smells of the new dry hay, heaps of it. Down we would jump, mother admonsihing us to look before we leaped-look for pitch forks in the haymow.

Here's the salt, mother would say, spread it around very well now. Thirst, I would be so thirsty from eating the salt, and the hay dust flying around the barn. My brothers and me leaping like young frogs in the hay, and laughing. Covered in sweat and thirst, mother would laugh.

Barefoot and brown, a bunch of blonde headed kids having the time of their life.

Our cows were stabled on the ground floor. That's where the barn cats hung out. Mother, would squirt fresh milk at the cats and they would drink the stream of warm, fresh milk.

Ah, memories, sweet memories. And in the silent, private place in the glen, where I would preach in Finn to the forest animals. It was a life time ago.

[Texas Songwriter]

You can't buy those remembrances. They are unique and they are yours to hold and to keep and to recall when you wish. I don't think I have one bad memory or observance about any barn. I love barns.

[Soaring Feather]

Yes, I kinda like barns, too.

[Old Sarge]

Utterly wonderful! THANK you!

[Texas Songwriter]

Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it. Every time I reread it I remember something else I should have written in the poem. But, there it is. It is what it is. So I won't try a rewrite.

[Soaring Feather]

Glen Gaul Way

Glen Gaul Way
by bentfeather

In the land of Glen Gaul Way
did the knights come out to play
in low dusk that is not light
to duel and fight into darkest night.

Clashing blades with ringing sounds
a fair knight hits the ground
silvery beams, abound around
the bloodied, dueling grounds
of Glen Gaul Way.

Damsels fair in midnight air
with silvery and golden hair
with velvet capes of blackest night
gathered round to watch the fight

Mighty steeds snort and whinny
the dancing hooves of fair knights plight
stomp the ground in anxious need to
charge their master to the deed
to fight another duel of might
clashing, slashing blades burn bright
in the Land of Glen Gaul Way.

Glen Gaul Way
in fields of violets and ferns
white knight did hold a yearn
for a certain damsel tall and blonde
hiding by the lily pond.

Holding court in Glen Gaul Way
a maiden fair was heard to say,
my white knight will come someday
to whisper by the lily pond.
passion is the promise bold
as she gripped her breast from the cold.

Damsel held the promise told
by magic Merlin of the old
that on a dark and stormy knight
the Dragonfly would show his color bright
and come to her in the night
take her on his wings of flight
her white knight of chivalry,
dragonfly delight.

[StarCMC]

Woohoo Queenie!!! I LOVE it!! (What do those folks know anyway!!!????)

[Soaring Feather]

Thanks Star. Well, I gave it my best shot.