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~The Dragon Flies' Lair VI ~
December 17,2003
| bentfeather
Posted on 12/17/2003 1:06:51 PM PST by 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 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©
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TOPICS: Chit/Chat; Hobbies; Humor; Miscellaneous; Poetry; Society
KEYWORDS: freeverse; haiku; originalpoetry; poets; prose
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To: bentfeather
"our feather"
:)
281
posted on
12/22/2003 8:44:59 PM PST
by
snippy_about_it
(Fall in --> The FReeper Foxhole. America's History. America's Soul.)
To: radu; All
Good night poets ~Dream a little ~ Love a Lot~
radu, everyone Phil Collins is waiting.
Just click on the Unicorn.
To: bentfeather
Woman
The wind is soft tonight,
caressing her face as gentle as a lovers hand,
and she sighs softer still and shivers,
as it molds her chemise like a second skin.
She dances to the music only she can hear,
and the melody is her heartbeat unchained,
running free across the plains of her passion,
and falling into tumbling emotions , rapids of the soul.
Her smile is warm and hints at the fires within,
and she is filled with needs that seek to escape,
to find a matching echo, and burn as fierce as a falling star,
in the heart of another where she may find her center.
Moving like a dream, she flows from moment to moment,
building her self for that moment at last of release,
the final surrender to her needs, and her goal this night,
seeking only the end to the fire and the coming of peace.
Her arms move to the music, seeking the one to enclose and embrace,
the one to set the stage and bring the final curtain down,
ending this almost savage need, this aching pleasure she must endure,
teasing her senses until they make her shake with expectations.
Universes collide and stars explode, leaving soul scars to heal slow,
burns she reaches for, and welcomes as she spirals into that dark center,
hearing only the waves of her heart and the whisper of her breath,
begging the moment to hold just a second more.
283
posted on
12/22/2003 11:41:08 PM PST
by
Trikebuilder
(We know the path they walk, and pray each step for them, till home they come to us.)
To: Trikebuilder; SAMWolf; snippy_about_it; radu; Colonel_Flagg; Johnny Gage; Conspiracy Guy; ...
Good Tuesday morning to everyone in The Lair!
To: Trikebuilder
Trike this is a most beautiful dance.
Thank You.
To: bentfeather
Howdy all Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
Remember
As you observe the season,
With family and friend.
Please take some extra moments,
A prayer I hope youll send.
For God to Bless the US Troops,
Away in foreign lands.
Protect them and inspire them,
With His dear loving hands.
Merry Christmas to you all,
And Happy Holiday.
Thank our Troops and all who serve,
His light will guide our way.
Conspiracy Guy 12/23/03
286
posted on
12/23/2003 7:26:31 AM PST
by
Conspiracy Guy
(No words were harmed during the production of this tagline.)
To: Conspiracy Guy
Good morning to you CG.
Happy Holidays to you and yours.
Thank You for keeping our fabulous Military first and foremost in our thoughts and prayers.
To: bentfeather
I wish I could be with the men and women. Maybe I'll put together a Conspiracy Guy, Country Humorist and Political Poet travelling show and make a USO tour!
288
posted on
12/23/2003 7:33:47 AM PST
by
Conspiracy Guy
(No words were harmed during the production of this tagline.)
To: Conspiracy Guy
Go for it CG!! You certainly have the talent to do it and that's a great idea.
To: bentfeather
Thanks.
290
posted on
12/23/2003 7:41:09 AM PST
by
Conspiracy Guy
(No words were harmed during the production of this tagline.)
To: All
Merry Christmas in a few languages!
Dutch: Vrolijk Kerstfeest en een Gelukkig Nieuwjaar! or Zalig Kerstfeast
Irish: Nollaig Shona Dhuit, or Nodlaig mhaith chugnat
Gaelic: Nollaig chridheil agus Bliadhna mhath r! German: Froehliche Weihnachten
Finnish: Hauskaa Joulua
Greek: Kala Christouyenna!
Jiberish: Mithag Crithagsigathmithags
Polish: Wesolych Swiat Bozego Narodzenia or Boze Narodzenie
Russian: Pozdrevlyayu s prazdnikom Rozhdestva is Novim Godom
Swedish: God Jul and (Och) Ett Gott Nytt År
To: All
Christmas is for love.
Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly decorated packages. But mostly, Christmas is for love. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with wide-eyed innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks gave me a wondrous gift one Christmas.
Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister's son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn't been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant, homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.
I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt's anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the room. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman, who always spent much time with him.
As Christmas drew near however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming, and when the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large gray eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, "Did you really miss me?"
I explained how he had been my best helper. "I was making you a surprise," he whispered confidentially. "It's for Christmas." With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room. He didn't stay after school any more after that.
Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back. "I have your present," he said timidly when I looked up. "I hope you like it." He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.
"Its beautiful, Mark. Is there something in it?" I asked opening the top to look inside. "
"Oh you can't see what's in it," He replied, "and you can't touch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights, and safe when you're all alone."
I gazed into the empty box. "What is it Mark," I asked gently, "that will make me feel so good?" "It's love," he whispered softly, "and mother always said it's best when you give it away." And he turned and quietly left the room.
So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them that there is love in it.
Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth and song, for good and wondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.
Author Unknown
To: bentfeather; snippy_about_it; Flurry; Darksheare; Darkchylde; Trikebuilder; radu; Colonel_Flagg; ...
Good Morning Everybody.
Coffee & Donuts
293
posted on
12/23/2003 10:15:32 AM PST
by
SAMWolf
(I love deadlines. Especially the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by.)
To: bentfeather; snippy_about_it; Flurry; Darksheare; Darkchylde; Trikebuilder; radu; Colonel_Flagg; ...
The Medic's Christmas
"'Twas the night before Christmas as I flew o'er the Army Post, when I spied a young man who seemed out of place. His eyes showed compassion, his hair a bit short, but his head was held high and his body was strong.
His air was confident, his uniform smart,
but what impressed me most was the size of his heart. For he embodied honor, one of this country's best, and the words U.S. Army showed large on his chest.
As I stood there in wonder and gazed into his eyes, the words that he spoke took me quite by surprise. "What's wrong Santa, haven't you ever seen a Medic before?" I sensed something special and longed to know more.
"To be honest, this field thing wasn't part of my plan, but the Army didn't give me a hospital or garrison." The words he spoke next surprised me all the more, "But I'm as proud of my Unit as I am of the Army!"
"Don't worry Santa, that I'm a Medic you see, for when a Soldier goes down they will still call on me. They'll forget I'm a Soldier, they'll call in my stock. At the top of their lungs they'll yell ,"Medic!" "And I'll answer that call, anytime, anywhere. Though I know I'm a target I really don't care. I'll face incoming fire as I race cross the land, and use my very own body to shield a downed man."
"Working long hours and into the night, my unit's battle is over, but I'm just starting to fight. For the life of every Soldier is sacred to me. I refuse to surrender them to death, and in that I'll find victory."
"And yet I'll take the time to comfort a dying man, to sit down by his side, to reach out and hold his hand. For it takes as much courage to care as to fight. For just as the poem says, many don't "go gently into that night."
"Santa, it's not any one uniform that makes you a man, but rather it's those ideals for which you choose to stand. I draw my line here, it's long and it's plain. For pain, hurt and suffering are the things I disdain."
I know very well that I may lose my life, So that a Soldier may see an unmet child and young wife. So Santa, it really doesn't matter if they don't like my hair. I'm a Army Medic, their Doc, and I'll always be there."
"I follow the brave docs who have come long before, from North Africa, Korea, and Vietnams shore. As history proudly shows, they all gave their best, and for those who have died, surely they're blessed."
"At Inchon, the gulf and times during Tet, our brothers have fallen, but we carry on yet. For we carry their honor and legacy still." As I held back my tears it took all of my will.
I had to leave him there for I had other plans, but I knew in my heart that the Army is in good hands. As I flew away I heard his laughter, it rang so loud and clear. "Hey Santa, how 'bout a nice pair of boots for the 26 miler next year?"
*Copyright © 2000 - 2001 Saintnicksxmas* *All Rights Reserved* |
294
posted on
12/23/2003 10:16:08 AM PST
by
SAMWolf
(I love deadlines. Especially the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by.)
To: SAMWolf
Morning Sam.
Thanks for the fine poetry this morning. Love all the songs today, especially the last one. Oh yes, Breakfast and Coffee great as usual.
To: bentfeather
"I have been named Poet Laureate of the Finn Club I belong to."
Very Nice!!! (and likely hard earned)
Now, what sort of clubs do Finns use?
296
posted on
12/23/2003 11:48:24 AM PST
by
Trikebuilder
(We know the path they walk, and pray each step for them, till home they come to us.)
To: SAMWolf
"The Medic's Christmas"
Outstanding poem! Thanks for posting it, it is worthy of being here a time or three!
Trike
297
posted on
12/23/2003 11:50:38 AM PST
by
Trikebuilder
(We know the path they walk, and pray each step for them, till home they come to us.)
To: Trikebuilder
Thanks Trike.
I was surprised to find this variation of "The Soldier's Christmas".
298
posted on
12/23/2003 11:55:19 AM PST
by
SAMWolf
(I love deadlines. Especially the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by.)
To: Trikebuilder
Thank You.
Viking Clubs, of course!!
LOL
To: bentfeather
Mine
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