~The Dragon Flies Lair III~

October 18, 2003 | bentfeather

[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 guides
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©

[Soaring Feather]

"Love can sweep you off your feet and carry you along in a way you've never known before. But the ride always ends, and you end up feeling lonely and bitter. Wait. It's not love I'm describing. I'm thinking of a monorail." --Jack Handey

[Soaring Feather]

Click the Dragon Fly

[Soaring Feather]

WHY I LOVE the UNITED STATES of AMERICA
I love her wide open big skies
her prairie lands her Golden Shores
her Scales of Justice her sense of humour
her open arms
Our Grand Lady Liberty my Grandmother met as she came through the gates 1899...
Freedom to worship as one pleases or not to.
To have people from every nation of the world living free within her borders...
For the opportunity to achieve great heights if one wishes
I am proud to be an American...
to say The Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag to honor her FLAG and treat her with care...
I am proud of her, my nation, my homeland...
AMERICA the LAND of the FREE and the BRAVE.

bentfeather
a/k/a MLH
Copyright(c) July 2003
All Rights Reserved

[Soaring Feather]

Why I Love My Country
I love her magnificent majesty
Her colors: RED, WHITE and BLUE
from her mighty mountain peaks to her delta lows
and the way her mighty rivers flow
Her frozen land of glaciers to her deserts barren and cold
I love my mighty country on whose rocky roads I've run
I love her Pride and Pomp
I love her patience not to tromp I love her freedom,
she lets me be me with responsibility
and the SISU to pay the dues
to take care of me at all times,
but should I need a hand,
she is grand and lends a hand up -not a hand out
She said, I could have an education
that I would have to work for it no one would hand me my grades
It's a prudent decision she has made... I love her,
because I can run through the roses at three a.m.
and dream of faraway lands
Be happy in my skin
Oh, yes, I love my homeland
She is Grand

bentfeather
a/k/a HLM
Copyright(c) 2003
All Rights Reserved

[SAMWolf]

Great poems, could you send those to the Veterans in School project that Comwatch is sponsoring?

  Click this link to send an email to the students.

[Soaring Feather]

Done Sam, sent three of them!!

Thank You for asking me.

God Bless American and her Vets!!

[Soaring Feather]

Three Songs
I Watched the Moon Last night ...
I watched the moon peeking
over the mountain
I was hoping...
you were riding the moon beams....

**************
The Songs

The songs of moonlight
and love are found in a forgotten season
I desire soft music and delicious anticiapation...

***************
Ethereal Wings
Feathered love dances effortlessly
your gravity arcs
enviously your eyes found
a vessel of ethereal wings you defied splendor...

****************
bentfeather
a/k/a HML
Copyright © 2003
All Rights Reserved

[Soaring Feather]

HI BF

[Soaring Feather]

Sam,

I heard back from them. They thanked me.

[Soaring Feather]

Click the graphic for Good Night music.
Would you be surprised if I told you it was Phil Collins?

[snippy_about_it]

Good night feather, thanks from me too for writing a letter to the elementary school kids.

[SAMWolf]

Thank you Feather, from me.

[Soaring Feather]

Good Morning everyone!

[snippy_about_it]

Good morning feather.

I'm working on a piece for the Lair I hope I'll have finished this evening. ;)

[Soaring Feather]

Oh goodie, can't wait to see it!!

[Soaring Feather]

~A Classic Poet Today~

A Musical Instrument
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning


What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.

High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.

He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.

"This is the way," laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
"The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed."
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, --
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.

[Soaring Feather]

"Mousa, tell me about Pan, the dear son of Hermes, with his goat's feet and two horns - a lover of merry noise. Through wooded glades he wanders with dancing Nymphai who foot it on some sheer cliff's edge, calling upon Pan, the shepherd god (Theos Nomios), long-haired, unkempt. He has every snowy crest and the mountain peaks and rocky crests for his domain; hither and thither he goes through the close thickets, now lured by soft streams, and now he presses on amongst towering crags and climbs up to the highest peak that overlooks the flocks. Often he courses through the glistening high mountains, and often on the shouldering hills he speeds along slaying wild beasts, this keen-eyed god. Only at evening, as he returns from the chase, he sounds his note, playng sweet and low on his pipes of reed: not even she could excel him in melody - that bird who flower-laden spring pouring forth her lament uters honey-voiced song amid the leaves. At that hour the clear-voiced Nymphai are with him and move with nimble feet, singing by some spring of dark water, while Ekho wails about the mountain-top, and the god on this side or on that of the choirs, or at times sidling into the midst, plies it nimbly with his feet. On his back he wears a spotted lynx-pelt, and he delights in high-pitched songs in a soft meadow where crocuses and sweet-smelling hyacinths bloom at random in the grass.
They sing of the blessed gods and high Olympos and choose to tell of such a one as luck-brining Hermes above the rest, how he is the swift messenger of all the gods, and how he came to Arkadia, the land of many springs and mother of flocks, there where his sacred place is as god of Kyllene. For there, though a god, he used to tend curly-fleeced sheep in the service of a mortal man, because there fell on him and waxed a strong melting desire to wed the rich-tressed daughter of Dryopos, and there he brought about the merry marriage. And in the house she bare Hermes a dear son who from his birth was marvellouse to look upon, with goat's feet and two horns - a noisy, merry-laughing child. But when the nurse saw his uncouth face and full beard, she was afraid and sprang up and fled and left the child. Then luck-bringing Hermes received him and took him in his arms: very glad in his heart was the god. And he went quickly to the abodes of the deathless gods, carrying his son wrapped in warm skins of mountain hares, and set him down beside Zeus and showed him to the rest of the gods. Then all the immortals were glad in heart and Bakkheios Dionysos in especial; and they called the boy Pan [derived from pantes meaning 'all'] because he delighted all their hearts. And so hail to you, lord! I seek your favour with a song." -Homeric Hymn XIX to Pan
“To Pan, Fumigation from Odours. Strong pastoral Pan, with suppliant voice I call, heaven, sea, and earth, the mighty queen of all, immortal fire; for all the world is thine, and all parts of thee, o power divine. Come, blessed Pan, whom rural haunts delight, come, leaping, agile, wandering, starry light. Throned with the Horai (Seasons), Bakkhanalian Pan, goat-footed, horned, from whom the world began; in endless dance and melody divine. In thee a refuge from our fears we find, those fears peculiar to humankind. Thee, shepherds, streams of water, goats rejoice, thou lovest the chase and Ekho’s secret voice: the sportive Nymphai thy every step attend, and all thy works fulfil their destined end. O all-producing power, much-famed, divine, the world’s great ruler, rich increase is thine. All-fertile Paian, heavenly splendour pure, in fruits rejoicing, and in caves obscure. True serpent-horned Zeus, whose dreadful rage, when roused, ‘tis hard for mortals to assuage. By thee the earth wide-bosomed, deep and long, stands on a basis permanent and strong. The unwearied waters of the rolling sea, profoundly spreading, yield to thy decree. Old Okeanos, too, reveres thy high command, whose liquid arms begird the solid land. The spacious air, whose nutrimental fire and vivid blasts the heat of life inspire; the lighter frame of fire, whose sparkling eye shines on the summit of the azure sky, submit alike to thee, whose general sway all parts of matter, various formed, obey. All natures change through thy protecting are, and all mankind thy liberal bounties share; for these, wherever dispersed through boundless space, still find thy providence support their race. Come, Bakkhanalian, blessed power, draw near, enthusiastic Pan, thy suppliants hear, propitious to these holy rites attend, and grant our lives may meet a prosperous end; drive panic fury too, wherever found, from humankind to earth’s remotest bound.” –Orphic Hymn 11 to Pan

“Pan royal, two-horned named, shrill winds emitting through the syrinx famed.” –Orphic Hymn 34 to Apollo

"Some say that Penelope [wife of Odysseus] was seduced by Antinous [one the suitors], and returned by Odysseus to her father Ikarios, and that when she reached Mantineia in Arkadia, she bore Pan, to Hermes [the two Penelopeia's - Odysseus wife and the Nymphe mother of Pan - are here confused]." -Apollodorus E7.39 “Mortals who were made immortal … Pan, son of Mercurius [Hermes] and Penelope.” –Hyginus Fabulae 224

[Soaring Feather]

The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the souls of people when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us. - Black Elk

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the Pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

Computer Poem



A computer was something on TV from a science fiction show of note. A window was something you hated to clean and ram was the cousin of a goat.

Meg was the name of my girlfriend and gig was a job for the nights. Now they all mean different things and that really mega bytes.

An application was for employment. A program was a TV show. A cursor used profanity. A keyboard was a piano.

Memory was something that you lost with age. A CD was a bank account. And if you had a 3 inch floppy, you hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the garbage, not something you did to a file and if you unzipped anything in public, you'd be in jail for a while.

Log on was adding wood to the fire. Hard drive was a long trip on the road. A mouse pad was where a mouse lived and a backup happened to your commode.

Cut you did, with a pocket knife. Paste you did with glue. A web was a spider's home and a virus was the flu.

I guess I'll stick to my pen and paper and the memory in my head. I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash but when it happens they wish they were dead!

Author Unknown