~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©

[Darksheare]

I hide down here,
when it hurts the most
And it's times like this
that I know I'm just a ghost.




I dunno, popped into my head, and that's all there is.

[Darkchylde]

Wishing for a human host
or possibly a bite of toast...

..Your fault.

[Darksheare]

LOL!
Sorry to inspire madness sis..

[Soaring Feather]

Are you invisible little one
Hiding like a ghost
popping in and out
of heads almost
turned to burned toast

[NicknamedBob]

The Poet Wheel

Clicking and whirring, the poet wheel spins,
Words flash and sparkle and slowly it ends.
It stops on the fabulous poet’s word Fate,
And loosens the bar that will open the gate.

Poets, of course, always need help to write,
Otherwise, all of their phrases are trite.
Roses are red, and others otherwise,
And all the bad rhymes that an amateur tries.

So words tumble out from the sprung-open latch,
Until the slow poet thinks to fasten the hatch.
Arranging the words in a semblance of sense,
He takes the full credit in haughty pretense.

Then giving another slight spin of the wheel,
He lengthens the tome til it has the right feel.
He weighs it with words like a fabric to dry,
Scoffing at those who don’t understand why.

In this way he helps to maintain the momentum,
By scattering words in a random addendum.
The machine helps him out by cranking out bits,
And he puts them together in surprise that it fits.

The poet is like those of limited mind,
Who are put in a place and then gently confined,
As they scribble their notes they believe they are gods,
In controlling the fate of the worlds’ ends and odds.


NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . September 3, 2004

[Soaring Feather]

Wonderful poem Bob, thank you so much. It's so playful. Chuckle.

[snippy_about_it]

Lovely Yeats poem. Thanks Sam. I'm running really late today. Just listening to the music now, good stuff. :-)

[snippy_about_it]

I like it!

[snippy_about_it]

LOL. Good come back Darkchylde!

[snippy_about_it]

Ha. You're very clever Bob.

[SAMWolf]

On this day the poet's dance
and waltz around the word romance

Great opening lines. :-)

[Soaring Feather]

Good Saturday morning everyone!

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

Johnmiserable failureKerry

[SAMWolf]

Excuse This House



Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there,
Ours boasts it quite openly,
The signs are everywhere.

For smears are on the windows,
Little smudges are on the doors,
I should apologize, I guess
For toys strew on the floor.

But I sat down with my child
And we played and laughed and read
And if the doorbell doesn't shine,
His eyes will shine instead.

For when at times I'm forced to choose
The one job or the other;
I'd like to cook and clean and scrub,
But first I'll be a mother.

Unknown

Johnmiserable failureKerry

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Sam!


Excuse This House

A sweet poem. My house used to look like that with four little girls sitting on the floor playing with their dolls.
The "dolls'" sometime were younger sister being tended by an older sister.

Doo Wop this morning. That sound never loses it's quaintness does it.

Lovely day today. Now that September has arrived we finally have dry weather.

Thanks for all you give to the Lair.

[SAMWolf]

Morning Feather. With my parents having four kids, our house always looked "lived in". :-)

[snippy_about_it]

LOL. My parents had four to start off with too. A messy house is usually a comfortable house. :-)

[Soaring Feather]

I came from a family of four, too. LoL

My mother was a neat nick, no messes. She ruled with an "Iron Fist." LoL

There is five years between my eldest living brother and me. I am older than the youngest brother by almost two years.
Mom had 2 sets of kids.

[SAMWolf]

Our place was clean just looked "lived in" ;-)

[Radix]

I do suppose I should repose

Over words I read this day

Instead I feel compelled to write

Of things I know beyond the sight

Issued by one who is not known

Only I can truly see it seems to me

Inside that tangled web

 

Long ago I let it pass

A life of certain free

Letting go of selfish things

And things I might have known

Lands unknown remain afar

Afterlife now beckons me

Life has true meaning again

 

Nothing seems simple to me

Delight I do in complexity

Nor will I again submit

Dare say I only truthful things

Never will I be so simply read

Days pass and words abound

 

So I write and dwell endlessly upon

Of days gone by and might have beens

Gone from me is innocence