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The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XXI~
June 26, 2005
| bentfeather/Poets of the Lair
Posted on 06/25/2005 9:22:33 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 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©
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TOPICS: Poetry
KEYWORDS: classicauthors; classicpoetry; haiku; humor; laughter; music; musiclyrics; originalpoetry
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To: bentfeather
LOL!! I like waffles!
That's good, because wait until you see what tomorrow is - *grumble* - National Waffle Day.
961
posted on
08/23/2005 7:52:48 PM PDT
by
Spotsy
(Thank you to all who serve and sacrifice)
To: bentfeather; Spotsy; HopeandGlory
Aw, Dang!
Somebody stepped on my pancake! (Thanks for the use of the griddle, Spotsy!)
962
posted on
08/23/2005 7:53:11 PM PDT
by
NicknamedBob
(I am impervious to insult, being extraordinarily dense, rather like Superman.)
To: HopeandGlory
To: NicknamedBob; Spotsy; HopeandGlory
Tread marks on pancakes
what will happen next
little pot holes for syrup
yupper, waffles are best.
To: bentfeather; Spotsy; HopeandGlory
Waffles are for Wintertime.
Helps you get a grip on the day!
965
posted on
08/23/2005 8:04:35 PM PDT
by
NicknamedBob
(I am impervious to insult, being extraordinarily dense, rather like Superman.)
To: NicknamedBob
To: NicknamedBob; bentfeather; Spotsy; Kathy in Alaska
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.
967
posted on
08/23/2005 8:35:09 PM PDT
by
HopeandGlory
(Hey, Liberals . . . PC died on 9/11 . . . GET USED TO IT!!!)
To: HopeandGlory
National Waffle Day! LOL!
968
posted on
08/23/2005 8:44:42 PM PDT
by
Kathy in Alaska
(~ www.ProudPatriots.org ~ Operation Semper Fi ~a field hospital~)
To: bentfeather
"Is that a pun??" No worse than yours. I could have made it a poem, but it wouldn't have gotten any better.
969
posted on
08/23/2005 8:50:34 PM PDT
by
NicknamedBob
(I am impervious to insult, being extraordinarily dense, rather like Superman.)
To: SouthernHawk; Jet Jaguar; Texas Songwriter; laurenmarlowe; HopeandGlory; SAMWolf; ...
Good morning everyone.
To: HopeandGlory
Pancakes motivate you, Hope
but waffles are my love
my heart does a pitter patter
at the thought of tread marks
on my food...;)
To: bentfeather
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
To: Texas Songwriter
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.
To: bentfeather
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.
To: Texas Songwriter
Yes, I kinda like barns, too.
To: Texas Songwriter
Utterly wonderful! THANK you!
976
posted on
08/24/2005 9:40:17 AM PDT
by
Old Sarge
(Follow Sarge on His Most Excellent Adventure - on Freerepublic.com!)
To: Old Sarge
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.
To: All
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.
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To: bentfeather
Woohoo Queenie!!! I LOVE it!! (What do those folks know anyway!!!????)
979
posted on
08/24/2005 7:23:39 PM PDT
by
StarCMC
(Old Sarge is my hero...doing it right in Iraq! Vaya con Dios, Sarge.)
To: StarCMC
Thanks Star. Well, I gave it my best shot.
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