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~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XIV~
July 23, 2004
| bentfeather and Poets of the Lair
Posted on 07/23/2004 4:39:59 PM PDT by 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©
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TOPICS: Chit/Chat; Miscellaneous; Music/Entertainment; Poetry; Society
KEYWORDS: lyrics; poetry; prose
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To: bentfeather; snippy_about_it; Flurry; Darksheare; Darkchylde; Trikebuilder; radu; Colonel_Flagg; ...
Note: The Worst Poem of All Time:
William Topaz McGonagall's The Tay Bridge Disaster William Topaz McGonagall. The very name reeks of poetry, and a poet, he was. Born in 1830 in Dundee, where he is still remembered as Dundee's most famous nobody (does so rhyme!), McGonagall died in 1902 in Edinburgh (where he is also claimed Native Son). His unparalleled awkward rhythms and dud rhymes were perfectly matched by his subject matter: spectacular train wrecks and the mountains of Greenland.
The Tay Bridge Disaster

The Tay Bridge Disaster Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clods seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say --
I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay.
When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say --
I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay.
But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.
So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the people's hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.
It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
William Topaz McGonagall
Johnmiserable failureKerry
61
posted on
07/25/2004 7:14:21 AM PDT
by
SAMWolf
(Why do I always have too much month at the end of my money?)
To: SAMWolf
William Topaz McGonagall's The Tay Bridge Disaster
Morning Sam.
We have not see this poet's work in a while. Well, poor fellow to be remembered like that.
Thanks for the tunes, Breakfast and poetry.
Lovely, but cool day here. Hope you are having dry weather.
To: bentfeather
It's been dry but supposed to be cooler today only in the 80's
63
posted on
07/25/2004 7:28:48 AM PDT
by
SAMWolf
(Why do I always have too much month at the end of my money?)
To: Old Sarge
I appreciate getting the ping to your poetry works!! Thank you!
Are you going to be around for dancing in the canteen tonight?
64
posted on
07/25/2004 9:27:53 AM PDT
by
trussell
(K'nigget. Lady Espiona, Official Sneaky Beeyotch and Vengeful Popper of Lies and Exploder of Retread)
To: SAMWolf; bentfeather
LOL. Poor poet McGonagall. This is a good example of why I stay away from rhyme! LOL.
65
posted on
07/25/2004 11:46:16 AM PDT
by
snippy_about_it
(Fall in --> The FReeper Foxhole. America's History. America's Soul.)
To: SAMWolf
Great tunes today Sam, thanks.
66
posted on
07/25/2004 11:48:23 AM PDT
by
snippy_about_it
(Fall in --> The FReeper Foxhole. America's History. America's Soul.)
To: snippy_about_it
The only reason I'm not known as the worst poet is because my poetry attempts haven't been made widely available. ;-)
67
posted on
07/25/2004 12:01:01 PM PDT
by
SAMWolf
(Why do I always have too much month at the end of my money?)
To: SAMWolf
...my poetry attempts haven't been made widely available. LOL. Your attempts have been good ones, imo. Of course I'm partial to my partner. ;-)
68
posted on
07/25/2004 1:48:48 PM PDT
by
snippy_about_it
(Fall in --> The FReeper Foxhole. America's History. America's Soul.)
To: SAMWolf; snippy_about_it
The only reason I'm not known as the worst poet is because my poetry attempts haven't been made widely available.
Oh yeah, well, Sam we can change that! LOL
To: All

Loves Theme
To: All

~Donna Summer~Don't Leave Me This Way~
To: All

~Norah Jones~Dolly Pardon~Creepin'~
To: bentfeather; SAMWolf; snippy_about_it; Colonel_Flagg; Darksheare; NicknamedBob; Darkchylde; radu; ..

It might look abandoned,
or even run-down,
a place of no name
or of even less renown,
but to Me, in My eyes,
it's something quite else,
a place full of wizardy,
as the verse tells.
The light in the tower
shows someone is here,
who is reading, or musing,
over subjects most queer,
while the lantern below,
in the shed off the pantry,
speaks of the firelight
from the hearth or the entry,
As the wuthering winds will wind and entwine
themselves 'round the garret with stars all behind,
while inside, in the comfort of fireside chairs,
I and my guest shall dismiss all our cares,
while sipping on cider
and dining on bread,
alone with the Knight
who gives little to dread.
To: bentfeather; snippy_about_it; Flurry; Darksheare; Darkchylde; Trikebuilder; radu; Colonel_Flagg; ...
74
posted on
07/26/2004 6:33:34 AM PDT
by
SAMWolf
(I tried to play my shoehorn... all I got was footnotes!)
To: bentfeather; snippy_about_it; Flurry; Darksheare; Darkchylde; Trikebuilder; radu; Colonel_Flagg; ...
Bear In There

There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.
Shel Silverstein
Johnmiserable failureKerry
75
posted on
07/26/2004 6:34:01 AM PDT
by
SAMWolf
(I tried to play my shoehorn... all I got was footnotes!)
To: SAMWolf; snippy_about_it; Colonel_Flagg; Old Sarge; Darksheare; Darkchylde; radu; All

Good morning everyone.
To: bentfeather; snippy_about_it; SAMWolf; Darksheare; StarCMC; All
Good morning, Lair!
The Burial of Love
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
His eyes in eclipse,
Pale-cold his lips,
The light of his hopes unfed,
Mute his tongue,
His bow unstrung
With the tears he hath shed,
Backward drooping his graceful head,
Love is dead:
His last arrow is sped;
He hath not another dart;
Gocarry him to his dark deathbed;
Bury him in the cold, cold heart
Love is dead.
O truest love! art thou forlorn,
And unrevenged? thy pleasant wiles
Forgotten, and thine innocent joy?
Shall hollow-hearted apathy,
The cruellest form of perfect scorn,
With languor of most hateful smiles,
For ever write,
In the withered light
Of the tearless eye,
And epitaph that all may spy?
No! sooner she herself shall die.
For her the showers shall not fall,
Nor the round sun shine that shineth to all;
Her light shall into darkness change;
For her the green grass shall not spring,
Nor the rivers flow, nor the sweet birds sing,
Till Love have his full revenge.
77
posted on
07/26/2004 6:57:32 AM PDT
by
Colonel_Flagg
("Where there is great love there are always miracles." - Willa Cather)
To: SAMWolf
Good morning, Sam!!
LOL today's poem and graphic are so funny. Listening to the tunes. Thanks for Breakfast, tunes, and poetry for the Lair. I know how busy you are in The Foxhole and appreciate your contributions here.
To: bentfeather
Morning Feather. I could same the same about you. I know you're busy here and I appreciate your contributions at the FOxhole. ;-)
79
posted on
07/26/2004 7:05:10 AM PDT
by
SAMWolf
(I tried to play my shoehorn... all I got was footnotes!)
To: Colonel_Flagg
Good morning, Colonel.
The Burial of Love
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Shall hollow-hearted apathy,
The cruellest form of perfect scorn,
With languor of most hateful smiles,
For ever write,
In the withered light
Of the tearless eye,
And epitaph that all may spy?
No! sooner she herself shall die.
Wow these lines cut like a knife.
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