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Prior Threads:
September 22, 2003
September 24, 2003
September 26, 2003
September 27-28, 2003
September 29-30, 2003
October 1-2, 2003
October 3-4-5, 2003
October 6-7, 2003
October 8-9, 2003
October 10-11-12, 2003
October 13-14, 2003
October 15-16, 2003
October 17-18-19, 2003
October 20-21, 2003
October 22-23, 2003

I love thee, I love but thee
With a love that shall not die
Till the sun grows cold
And the stars grow old.

~ by Willam Shakespeare ~

Good MORNING Amy! Good MORNING everyone!!!!!!

Game Six

Here within this holy ground
the ace ascends the hallowed mound.

The slugger comes to stand his ground
amidst the roar and might sound.

He steps inside the sacred box
where mighty men have beat the Sox.

Batter up! The pitch is fast:
the tension builds; it cannot last.

The fans are nuts; the air is thick,
and Satan comes to play his trick.

Swing-swing-swing, and swing some more,
but nothing can settle the ancient score.

The slugger swings; the side's retired:
Holy God! The pitcher's wild!

Batter up – knock em down:
Batter up – mow em down!

Blood on the moon; blood on the face:
the wrong heroes are rounding the base!

If life is such a baseball game,
then who the hell we gonna blame?

Errors come and runners go:
how the hell we s'pposed to know?

Garbage in; garbage out:
is that what life is all about?

Tears of joy, tears of sorrow:
here today; gone tomorrow.

Shouts of glee, cries of pain:
soft the snow; hard the rain.

Words of peace; winds of war:
holy bride; vile whore.

Songs of life; songs of death:
filled, the lungs; gone, the breath.

Eyes of love; knives of hate:
grab the chance; gone, too late.

Streams of blue; rivers red:
summer's day; a dream is dead.

Hearts of gold, plans for evil:
chuckles of God; jeers of Devil.

The lover's kiss; the liar's twist:
Jesus Christ, or is it Judas?

Drops of mercy; torrents of rage:
open the book; burn the page.

Batter up! – end your inning:
keep repenting or lose your winnings.

Then, do we enter the extra innings?
And what of all those extra sinnings!

The winners lose; the losers win:
and we are stuck on base with sin!

The seasons come; the season's go:
and we are Michelangelo.

Back in the box, the batter's up
who can drink this bitter cup?

Back in the box, the inning is nine:
shit outta luck, and shit outta time.

The batter's up! The game— it's over!
The Irish are stunned: where is the clover?

New York, New York, a helluva town:
but finally the curse, it comes around.

Start the party; finish the races:
fifty cheers; twenty paces.

Mexican beans; Soviet faces:
full, the glasses; empty, the bases.

The Enemy sings; the gods are tired:
the enemy drinks; the manager's fired.

666: the mark of the Beast;
1-2-3: the sound of defeat.

The Devil comes, disguised as man:
he comes to rout the bookies plan.

He plays his cards: a rookie's hand –
but has it changed the Sovereign's plan?

Trounced in six; robbed of seven.
Game six: hell— can there be heaven?

Hi All,

.45MAN and I are back from a wonderful week in St. Simons Island, GA. Our week ended on a very bad note when we learned that LBGA had succumbed in her brave battle against ovarian cancer. We have lost a dear friend and FR has lost a dedicated FReeper.

Hoping that ((((LOUIE_WOLFIE_MAN))))) is feeling better. I hate that he has been in so much pain.

I missed you all. Am easing back into FR slowly, tending mostly to pings that I have received on Lynne's prayer (now memorial) thread. Hope to see more of everyone, soon.

Meanwhile, I have a poem to share that I wrote for Lynne:

To Lynne (LBGA) With Love

Another star was added
To the night’s sky
Your spirit burns brightly
A light that will never die.

The void that we feel now
Will be filled one day at last
When we all meet at the Lord’s table
And discuss adventures past.

Meanwhile, we are certain
To feel your angel’s wings
As you hover close to us
Easing our grief’s stings.

The Lord shared you with us
For only a brief time here
We begged for you to stay longer
But our Father needed you near.

You touched so many lives
Your star outshines all the rest
It’s warm glow surpasses
The brightest and the best.

Another star was added
A strong voice heard above the din
A spirit that will never die
We’ll always love you, Lynne.

© 2003 dansangel

Love and ((((HUGS)))) to all.