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Amy's Place ... Poetry and Potpourri ... April, 2008
JustAmy; St.Louie1; MamaBear; Billie

Posted on 04/01/2008 4:05:44 AM PDT by JustAmy




Welcome To....



'Amy's Place' welcomes all poets
and those who enjoy poetry.
'Amy's Place' is more than just about poetry.
Come in, relax, and share with fellow FReepers
your thoughts about any of the things on the *Menu*.

Enjoy! :)












Never Forget!






Bad Penny




Amy's personal guardian ~
the ever charming, lovable, huggable,

LouieWolf





Many thanks for stopping by. : )











TOPICS: Humor; Miscellaneous; Poetry; The Poetry Branch
KEYWORDS: amysplace; april; friends; friendship
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To: Mama_Bear; MEG33; La Enchiladita; jaycee; gardengirl; Poetgal26; yorkie; OESY; Kitty Mittens; ...


Meet Zombie Cat or should he be Vampire Cat?

He climbed to the highest place he could find in the garage.
It looks like I need to clean the spider webs. ;^)

2,441 posted on 04/28/2008 11:20:43 AM PDT by JustAmy (I wear red every Friday, but I support our Military everyday!!)
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To: Lady Jag

Looks like your weekend was a memorable one! ;-)


2,442 posted on 04/28/2008 11:23:03 AM PDT by yorkie (God Bless our Heroes in Iraq and around the world)
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To: La Enchiladita; jaycee; Poetgal26; yorkie; Kitty Mittens; The Mayor; Mrs Mayor; Conspiracy Guy; ...

I meant to ping you to #2436

Sorry. That happens when I try to rush stuff.


2,443 posted on 04/28/2008 11:25:07 AM PDT by JustAmy (I wear red every Friday, but I support our Military everyday!!)
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To: yorkie; OESY

The walk started with the first photo on Monday July 26 2004 at 10:40. So everyone was at work as August is the month when the whole country shuts down for a month´s holiday.

But in June, July and August that beach is packed between two and five o-clock as everyone has a three hour lunch time. And many companies only work until 2pm in the Summer months.

They go back to work from 5pm to 8pm, the night life does not begin until ten pm - some restaurants don´t bother to open until 10pm. This causes great confusion among the visitors.

From halfway through June to the beginning of July sunset is 10:18 pm. so all the summer it is past ten PM.


2,444 posted on 04/28/2008 11:27:19 AM PDT by Cardhu (Be happy, today you will be the youngest you will ever be.)
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To: JustAmy

Oh my gosh, that is so funny! He has port and starboard lights - only he is wearing them on the wrong side. LOL


2,445 posted on 04/28/2008 11:27:21 AM PDT by Mama_Bear (My heroes wear camouflage!)
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To: Mama_Bear

Gotta run ... I will post some more later.

There is at least one cute one. ;^ )


2,446 posted on 04/28/2008 11:30:06 AM PDT by JustAmy (I wear red every Friday, but I support our Military everyday!!)
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To: JustAmy; yorkie

LOL..If you have high windows in the garage door..He is enjoying looking out..My kitty loves her perch on top of my car..

Part of my early senility onset is to allow the cat to climb on the top of the car for a view of the street..OH MY!


2,447 posted on 04/28/2008 11:31:33 AM PDT by MEG33 (God Bless Our Military)
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To: Lady Jag; JustAmy; Mama_Bear; MEG33; All
Woman Thou Art Grace ... and Grace, Thou Art Woman, as if Art couldn't tell:




The Three Graces, by Sanzio Raffaello, c.1503-1504. Oil on panel. Conde Museum, Chantilly, France


The Graces are the beautiful young daughters of Zeus and Eurynome, not to be confused with their older step-sisters, The (Other) Three Graces, by Peter Paul Rubens, Oil on wood, Prado, Madrid.

The attendance of the Graces, Aglaia (Splendor), Euphrosyne (Festivity), and Thalia (Rejoicing), was the assurance of peace and happiness.

They wove the material for Aphrodite’s robe (Iliad, book 5, line 338). They also tended to Aphrodite when she returned to the island of Kypros (Cyprus), humiliated after she had been caught in the trap her husband, Hephaistos (Hephaestus), had set to catch her and Ares (God of War) in the embrace of love (Odyssey, book 8, line 300).

The Graces bathed her, anointed her with ambrosial oil and dressed her in delightful clothing so that she might resume her loving duties at The Golden Door Fitness Resort and Spa.

Homer used the beauty of the Graces ironically to depict the horror of war when he describes a dead Trojan soldiers hair as being ‘lovely as the Graces’ before it was splattered with blood and mingled dirt. (Iliad, book 17, line 51)

The Graces are often confused with the Roman goddesses, the Charities. And we all know there is no Charity without Grace, and no Grace without Charity, but the greatest confusion comes from the American Graces: Divine Grace, Table Grace, and Say-Goodbye Grace-E.

.

2,448 posted on 04/28/2008 11:46:48 AM PDT by OESY
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To: JustAmy; All; FRiends
Lol, Mr. Mittens is Cute, Amy, even as a Zombie Kitty! I'm Sorry he Caught a Baby Bird; my Kitties Used to Occasionally Catch a Bird, and it was Always Awful. :(

I've been Sitting Here Catching Up on the Thread, and am Sending Thank you's to Everybody for the Fun and Interesting Posts. I Hope Everyone is Having a Good Day, and it's Beautiful and Sunny Here. My New Friend, Doggie, is Asleep Outside, Sleeping the Sleep of the Exhausted, Lol, because of being So Active! I Love her Very Much, and couldn't have a Sweeter Friend. : )


Have a Wonderful Day!

2,449 posted on 04/28/2008 11:52:52 AM PDT by Kitty Mittens (To God Be All Excellent Praise!!)
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To: yorkie
hehe. Well I suppose someone's bound to remember it.   ;-)
2,450 posted on 04/28/2008 11:55:57 AM PDT by Lady Jag ( I dreamed I surfed all day in my monthly donor wonder bra - https://secure.freerepublic.com/donate)
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To: JustAmy

Might as well clean the webs; it looks like he ate all the spiders.

Now there’s something to ponder . . .


2,451 posted on 04/28/2008 11:59:38 AM PDT by Lady Jag ( I dreamed I surfed all day in my monthly donor wonder bra - https://secure.freerepublic.com/donate)
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To: Lady Jag

Next time, call me. You should always be accompanied by a friend or two. Tee hee.


2,452 posted on 04/28/2008 12:00:49 PM PDT by yorkie (God Bless our Heroes in Iraq and around the world)
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To: Lady Jag; JustAmy; Mama_Bear; MEG33; All
We now return to our regularly scheduled (annual) program of Great Poetry Reading




Charities

You say I ‘is’ what you like.
You say I ‘is’ what feeds your appetite.
You say I ‘is’ what you want more.
You say I ‘is’ what you adore!
You say I ‘is’ the one to make you happy!
I'm sorry to disappoint this way...
But I ‘isn't into you like that.
Or giving into charities,
That may feed your needs...
To leave nothing left for me!

— Lawrence S. Pertillar

.


2,453 posted on 04/28/2008 12:04:05 PM PDT by OESY
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To: yorkie

Okay, I’ll call you but you have to bring the dog.


2,454 posted on 04/28/2008 12:09:58 PM PDT by Lady Jag ( I dreamed I surfed all day in my monthly donor wonder bra - https://secure.freerepublic.com/donate)
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To: Lady Jag

I’ll bring her - but she won’t be much protection - she likes to party hearty. ;-)


2,455 posted on 04/28/2008 12:17:57 PM PDT by yorkie (God Bless our Heroes in Iraq and around the world)
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To: yorkie

That’s my kind of Yorkie!


2,456 posted on 04/28/2008 12:19:34 PM PDT by Lady Jag ( I dreamed I surfed all day in my monthly donor wonder bra - https://secure.freerepublic.com/donate)
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To: Lady Jag; JustAmy; Mama_Bear; MEG33; All
Not to be outdone, Art invited a few more Graces to the party:




The Three Graces (Nos. 13-15), by Sandro Botticelli




The Three Graces (Nos. 16-18), by Salvador Dalí




The Three Graces (Nos. 19-21), by Antonio Canova


Honorable mention: The Three Graces (Nos. 22-24), by Elsie Russell

.

2,457 posted on 04/28/2008 12:30:42 PM PDT by OESY
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To: OESY; JustAmy; Mama_Bear; MEG33; All



The Female of the Species
 
  When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws -
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the others tale -
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations, worm and savage otherwise,
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise;
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger; Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of the Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions - not in these her honor dwells -
She, the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else!

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate;
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him, who denies!
He will meet no cool discussion, but the instant, white-hot wild
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights;
Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons - even so the cobra bites;
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw,
And the victim writhes with anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of abstract justice - which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern; shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him and Her instincts never fail,
That the female of Her species is more deadly than the male!

Rudyard Kipling




2,458 posted on 04/28/2008 12:33:53 PM PDT by Lady Jag ( I dreamed I surfed all day in my monthly donor wonder bra - https://secure.freerepublic.com/donate)
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To: Lady Jag; Sundog; JustAmy; yorkie; pandoraou812; gardengirl; OESY; MEG33; jaycee; Mama_Bear; ...
PowerPoint Presentation with MUSIC..

FOTOS ARÉAS

For those of you that do not have PowerPoint
the FREE Microsoft PowerPoint Reader can be downloaded from Here or HERE


Fotos Areas

Click the picture to see the Presentation.
Right click for full screen and to back up to the first slide if the music stops.
2,459 posted on 04/28/2008 12:54:19 PM PDT by Cardhu (Be happy, today you will be the youngest you will ever be.)
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To: Lady Jag; All
Knock-you-dead photo and great poem by Kipling--one I hadn't seen before, but here's one I have. Catch the last verse:




THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER

When the ‘arf-made recruity goes out to the East
‘E acts like a babe an’ ‘e drinks like a beast,
An’ ‘e wonders because ‘e is frequent deceased
Ere ‘e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an’ ‘ark to my lay,
An’ I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

First mind you steer clear o’ the grog-sellers’ huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay’nets that rots out your guts —
Ay, drink that ‘ud eat the live steel from your butts —
An’ it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

When the cholera comes — as it will past a doubt —
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An’ it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o’ your foes is the sun over’ead:
You ~must~ wear your ‘elmet for all that is said:
If ‘e finds you uncovered ‘e’ll knock you down dead,
An’ you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old —
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
‘Nough, ‘nough, ‘nough for a soldier . . .

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch ‘em — you'll swing, on my oath! —
Make ‘im take ‘er and keep ‘er: that's Hell for them both,
An’ you're shut o’ the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

When first under fire an’ you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take ‘eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin’, and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

When ‘arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are — you treat her as sich,
An’ she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

When shakin’ their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o’ the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an’ don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .

If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!

— Rudyard Kipling (1865-1951)

.


2,460 posted on 04/28/2008 1:05:32 PM PDT by OESY
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