~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XIV~

July 23, 2004 | bentfeather and 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 I...

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©

[Darkchylde]

Yay! Thanks.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

Johnmiserable failureKerry

[SAMWolf]

Armies in the Fire



The lamps now glitter down the street;
Faintly sound the falling feet;
And the blue even slowly falls
About the garden trees and walls.

Now in the falling of the gloom
The red fire paints the empty room:
And warmly on the roof it looks,
And flickers on the back of books.

Armies march by tower and spire
Of cities blazing, in the fire;
Till as I gaze with staring eyes,
The armies fall, the lustre dies.

Then once again the glow returns;
Again the phantom city burns;
And down the red-hot valley, lo!
The phantom armies marching go!

Blinking embers, tell me true
Where are those armies marching to,
And what the burning city is
That crumbles in your furnaces!

Robert Louis Stevenson

Johnmiserable failureKerry

[Soaring Feather]

Good Friday Morning everyone.

[SAMWolf]

Gonna be gone today, I have to go up to the Seattle area. I should be back this evening. See ya when I get back.

[Soaring Feather]

Okay Sam, take care.

[Colonel_Flagg]

Good morning, Lair!

I Dream'd I Lay
Robert Burns

I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam;
List'ning to the wild birds singing,
By a falling crystal stream:
Straight the sky grew black and daring;
Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave;
Tress with aged arms were warring,
O'er the swelling drumlie wave.

Such was my life's deceitful morning,
Such the pleasures I enjoyed:
But lang or noon, loud tempests storming
A' my flowery bliss destroy'd.
Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me-
She promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill,
Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me-
I bear a heart shall support me still.

[snippy_about_it]

LOL. Men.

I'm going too. See you later tonight.

[StarCMC]

Beautiful Colonel!

[snippy_about_it]

We haven't managed any earlier than 11:00 so far but it's still earlier. We're headed toward 10 though.

[snippy_about_it]

I know why - Glenn Miller.

I know why - Glenn Miller.

Glenn Miller was the greatest.

[StarCMC]

Hey - it's having the goal that counts! LOL!!!

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Colonel!!

Nice thoughts in the poem today.
I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam;

I will be joining my Swedish lady friend for lunch by the lake today. We go to a fancy restaurant this time of year. She does the driving and does not get down this way in winter. It's a lovely place to have lunch, good food, great atmosphere and the view of the lake.

Have a great morning, I'll see you in the afternoon.

[Soaring Feather]

Okay, have fun!

[Darkchylde]

Yes, he was. Pity he was lost.
Have you ever noticed variations in his songs?
Like "Moonlight Serenade". It can be fast or
slow & sometimes (rarely) has words.

[Soaring Feather]

Good Saturday morning everyone!
I will be gone most of the day - graduation party for granddaughter.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody. Better late than never.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

Johnmiserable failureKerry

[SAMWolf]

A Process In The Weather Of The Heart



A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.

A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.

A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.

A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.

A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.

Dylan Thomas

Johnmiserable failureKerry

[Soaring Feather]

A Process In The Weather Of The Heart
Dylan Thomas

Howdy Sam!
I'm back from partying all afternoon. Woo Hoo. Danced like a fool and had a wonderful time. Granddaughter had a wonderful party. She leaves for Niagara Falls tomorrow.

Interesting poem today. Listening to the tunes and love the Image of Me.

Thanks Much. Hope you're having a good day.

[NicknamedBob]

"...Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin; And the heart gives up its dead."

Can this mean anything other than that we age? And as we age, the shabby curtains of our skin grow loose and flabby, and are pulled down.

To me, the dead of the heart are those remembered loved ones who have passed on, living only in our heart. Thus when our heart, in turn, surrenders to "that dark night", it gives up its dead.

But I have no notion what he could mean about the moon being blown into the sun.

For myself, Death is also a process. An impersonal, unbiased eventuality no more surprising or unwelcome than the last sip of wine. Life should be savored, such that the last sip is no more bitter than the first.

Solace

“How are things?” They say to me.
A pleasant friendly inquiry.
How can I tell them how I feel?
They did not know my dream was real.

They thought I seemed content until,
A sadness flooded in to fill,
This heart that you had dwelled inside,
And warmed me in the eventide.

They think that with you gone that I,
Can not find solace though I try.
That with an emptiness in me,
There is no room for ecstacy.

A hollow space would fill me up,
Prevent my drinking from the cup?
How can they think that you would go,
And not remain inside me so?

That you are with me even now,
Your hand in mine as we did vow.
We could not ever come apart,
Because we share each other’s heart.

Your laughter rings in silent rooms,
That others think are soundless tombs.
Your smile can brighten every day.
How can they think you’ve gone away?

My father walks beside me still,
He gives advice, and always will.
My mother sings as she once did,
When lifting up the stewpot’s lid.

The life she spent in serving others,
She gently nurtured in my brothers.
Indeed in all who came around,
Each came to find what she had found.

That life alone is but a seed,
Incapable of worthy deed.
But when the light of love shines in,
The roots take hold, the vines to spin,

Entangling all in matted grip,
That even death can not make slip.
The raindrop tears of daily woes,
Are soaked up in the childlike toes.

And winds of passion and of fear,
Which bring destruction circling near,
Are but the welcome cleansing breeze,
To wash the dust from sturdy trees.

No, I am never quite alone.
I’m filled inside with thoughts my own,
Of days spent laughing, having fun,
Relaxing when our work was done.

They see me smile and think that I,
Just reminisce of days gone by.
They cannot know I feel more joy,
Than when I was a little boy.

I knew not then that pain could hurt,
I didn’t know that girls could flirt,
There was a world I couldn’t see,
And now it lives inside of me.

My struggle now is just to show,
The happiness I’ve come to know.
How can I share with them this thrill?
The ones I love are with me still.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . March 1, 2004