Posted on 06/25/2005 9:22:33 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
Why does that reminds me of the Roadkill Cafe? . . .LOL!!!
Oooops link no worky.
I just love your Barn Poem Songwriter.
Oh my gosh!!! LOL
Bowl of Mole .38
LOL!!! . . .I'm kind of partial to "Thumper on the Bumper." myself.
Wonderful poem Miss Feather . . . I'm so glad you get to participate again next year.
Five months ago the stream did flow,
The lilies bloomed within the sedge,
And we were lingering to and fro,
Where none will track thee in this snow,
Along the stream, beside the hedge.
Ah, Sweet, be free to love and go!
For if I do not hear thy foot,
The frozen river is as mute,
The flowers have dried down to the root:
And why, since these be changed since May,
Shouldst thou change less than they.
And slow, slow as the winter snow
The tears have drifted to mine eyes;
And my poor cheeks, five months ago
Set blushing at thy praises so,
Put paleness on for a disguise.
Ah, Sweet, be free to praise and go!
For if my face is turned too pale,
It was thine oath that first did fail, --
It was thy love proved false and frail, --
And why, since these be changed enow,
Should I change less than thou.
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1806-1861
Goodnight Miss Feather and Fellow Lairites . . . see you tomorrow.
Thanks so much for the wonderful poem.
Good night, dear Hope and rest well, see you tomorrow.
Walking by the Fen at Eve Time
Moving marsh land melodies,
from a tricolor blackbird,
floating upon the evening air.
Soft, the hum of lonely bees.
just a whisper upon the wind I heard,
as I sort out the night sounds with care.
There, off to the left, the drone of a dragonfly,
hunting supper on the wing as eve falls,
and life puts on its somber ebon cloak.
I sit here and listen with a soft sigh,
and watch a Heron hunt in reeds so tall,
for a careless frog who boldly croaks.
Wetland wonders in the gathering gloom,
and I partake of them with a joyous heart,
for these are moments so gently engraved.
The rising moon sets the stage for nights loom,
where many threads will be woven once a part,
and now bound in memory to be sweetly saved.
Grey Citadel
It were an old barn, ancient even when I were a kid,
a grey castle we played in, safe from summers heat.
A creaking door that we imagined to be a coffin lid,
and we played hide and seek in the piled hay so sweet.
Just an old barn it were, but to us, a palace for we kings,
and many a knight like us rode forth on stick horses bold.
We rode around it, the trees our Sherwoods leafy ring,
and never did we tire of our ancient wooden keep so old.
The seat of the old wagon within a kings throne,
where lordly decisions were made with raised slat sword.
Our haven from the rain, where we might set the tone,
and hold court in the grey palace upon that dry grass sward.
Good morning, Johnn!
Lovely, absolutely lovely, both of the poems.
Treasures in the Lair I find
when I open eyes on a new day
gems a gleaming in morning dew
how very grateful I am for you.
Good morning JJ. Oh my, so serene. Thank You.
It's a beautiful morning, ms feather....The Sailor's home!
Happy Morning Bentfeather-bestest girlfriend:)
fatima!!!!
WOW, great to see you bestest girlfriend!!!!
*HUGS*
Did you have a wonderful rest??
Good morning, Kathy!! Wonderful day indeed.
Thank you for Blessed Assurance, love this hymn.
I couldn't sleep last night.We should have had a Mars thread:)I do feel rested and I am here at the thrift store.We just received a donation of children's clothes-which is what we need most.:)
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