The Dragonflies' Lair~Thread XXXII~

The Muse and Poets of The Lair | December 1, 2006 | Soaring Feather

[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©
2002

[Soaring Feather]

Oh now this is good news indeed, cute one Lady!

[Lady Jag]

Good morninr, Love! In a little while I have to run out for a couple of hours. It's another drizzly dark day, too.

[Soaring Feather]

Not bad weather here, sun comes out for a while, clouds move in temps in the high 50s.

Okay see you -have a good one.

[starbase]

Hi all,
Well it's just past midnight here in Bangkok, the witching hour, or more like the whoring hour. These Thais sure have different ideas about prostitution, there's no idea of shame, or embarrassment in sleeping for money, and they sure are pushy about it.

The touristy street, at the stroke of midnight, turns into trash littered whore central faster than Cinderella's coach turned into a pumpkin. It's really offensive and a man can't walk around at all, every few feet another throws herself at you. They have all these different emotional styles, for the jaded man of all types, like some giggle and squeal, others look slutty serious, still other contrive to "run into" you in one way or another, like I once watched a Thai woman eating the same plate of french fries for more than two hours, that way whenever a man walks in she looks like she just happens to be there.

And just a minute ago one walked straight into me talking on a cell phone, it was pretty obviously an act, but that's what some do. It gets kind of comic, it's so overt. But I talked with one Canadian who shacked up with one for a couple days, but one day she came over with two Thai men who started just opening every drawer and bag in his hotel room while he stood there, see dangerous.

Plus all the obvious reasons, morality, disease, emotional distress, physical danger. I'm only writing about it to catch different aspects of this place.

But by day there's a big temple complex right here and all these touristy cafes and the whores disappear. That's the Asian way, specifically the Thai way, just co-exist and pretend it's not there, that way totally different groups get the same use of the same place.

Of course we have hardened beliefs and want to stamp out such conduct, but it still occurs. There's something to be said for both approaches, accepting something as inevitable versus strong prohibition.

[Soaring Feather]

Hi starbase, well now this is a story of another shade. LOL


Oh my gosh, can't imagine it, however, I am pretty isolated in my small world.

Sounds like a whole cast of characters, each with an entire wardrobe of faces, expressions and tactics.

Whew, I know you are a keen fellow and will be very careful if you happen to be out at night.


I'm glad too, that you come around to let us know you are safe.


Later this afternoon I will be going to my daughters for a get together, some finger foods and beverages. My strong drink is coffee or Pepsi. LOL

Take care my FRiend.

[starbase]

Later this afternoon I will be going to my daughters for a get together, some finger foods and beverages. My strong drink is coffee or Pepsi. LOL

Hah! What a contrast! Yes, it's a wide old world.

[NicknamedBob]

Why Were My Hopes So Hidden?

Why were my hopes so hidden?
They seemed a quite normal kind.
I just wanted children and family,
And watching our lives unwind.

Something has happened to me,
What it was I just cannot say,
How it happened or who did what,
That hurt me on that day.

At first, it was acceptable,
I felt love, and they gave me care,
In time, I guess I realized,
I wasn’t going anywhere.

And then, the days grew longer,
My visitor list grew short,
My diary held blank pages,
And that is my report.

It’s also condemnation,
For how my life has drained,
Out through the vacant window,
Of my vista now constrained.

I could have gone to parties,
With many a birthday chance,
I would have smiled at a party,
Even though I couldn’t dance.

So why were my hopes so painful,
To those who had starred in my dreams?
I’ve shrunken to life in a bird-cage,
Even that’s not enough for some schemes.

They debate about life that’s worth living,
But they don’t put their own lives in hock.
I’m inclined to believe that a just review,
Would have placed most of them into shock.

For the scales of true justice will measure,
The worth of those judging me,
And the hopes that I had that I treasure,
Far outshine any others I see.


NicknamedBob . . . . . December 10, 2006

[Lady Jag]

Stunning, Bob!!!

[NicknamedBob]

Thanks!

I believe in letting out a little blood now and then to cleanse myself of the pain.

[Lady Jag]

Humor herds my pain. I like to lie about it.   ; )

[NicknamedBob]

"Humor herds my pain. I like to lie about it."


Humor Herds My Pain

I’m fencing off a section,
With lines and with some posts,
Containing painful moments,
For guests and for their hosts.

The items are constrained thereby,
It keeps them from running wild,
I’ll permit only free-range humor,
That roams like a laughing child.

Yes, humor herds my pain, you see,
It keeps it in its place,
And there’s a map of treasure held,
That’s written on my face!

NicknamedBob , , , , December 15, 2006

[Soaring Feather]

Wonderful poem, Bob thanks so much.

[Soaring Feather]

Hi starbase, all, well I am back from my afternoon party. Great food, and wonderful laughs with family.

It's rainy and a miserable here tonight. Temps are not that low, but the dampness just penetrates into ones bones.

[Lady Jag]

Very nice! You KNOW I'm saving this one!

Thank you!

[NicknamedBob]

Heck, if I had known that, I would have used some fancy words.

I haven't used Floccinaucinihilipilification yet.

[Lady Jag]

To be honest, there is little I like less than a floccinaucinihilipilificator.

[NicknamedBob]

So how do you defloccinaucinihilipilificate?

[NicknamedBob]

Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid.

I remember reading something by Heinlein, or maybe John W. Cambell, about the bravest man he’d ever met.

It seems there were several men in a military hospital walking-wounded section. On a regular basis, they went in to get fluid drained from their chest cavities, to facilitate their breathing.

One day, after a period of their chatting as usual, the first man up on the table had something go terribly wrong with his procedure, which was regarded as more-or-less routine. He died right there.

Everyone was shaken up, but they needed to continue. Their own lives depended on receiving this procedure.

Without complaint, the second man got up on the table and began with the treatment.

He also died.


This was getting serious. After a brief review, it was determined that there was nothing further to do but proceed. A third man got up on the table.

The procedure went off normally. They continued with the others, and everything went according to plan.

Now here is the interesting question: Which of these three men was the bravest?


It wasn’t the first man, because he had no idea what was about to happen. (Autopsy revealed his death had nothing to do with the procedure anyway.)

It wasn’t the third man. He was simply following precedent and example, although it took courage.


No, the bravest of the three was the second man. He had died of fright!

[Lady Jag]

That story is truly chilling. I am taking this one also.  

I had it as the second guy, but to think he DIED of fright is embarrassing.

[NicknamedBob]

It might have been John W. Cambell then. He was a great chiller.

His story, "Who Goes There?" was the basis for the movie, "The Thing."

John Carpenter's version tries to capture the true horror that the short story evoked.

I still remember how my heart pounded as I read the original. Chilling is the word.