~The Dragon Flies' Lair IX~

February 14, 2004 | bentfeather, Poets of The Dragon Flies' Lair

[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©

[SAMWolf]

My guess is she wins on appeal or does 0 to 12 months max.

[NicknamedBob]

I am inclined to disagree.

It concerns me that an ambitious prosecutor has essentially fabricated a crime out of nothingness. While this is a very creative act, it chills not the would-be criminal but the entrepreneur and the common man, and I think it also smacks of an overly intrusive and bullying government. In fact, I was moved to comment in my typical fashion, but before that, let me quote a prescient statement.

“If the feds are successful in their attempts to imprison Stewart, it is unlikely that her company will be able to survive in its present form. Sales will drop and people will lose their jobs.“ -- William L. Anderson, June 9, 2003, Mises Institute News

Mises Institute News ^ | June 9, 2003 | William L. Anderson

Essentially, Martha wil not be impoverished by this action.
She will be hurt. Her fortune will be more than decimated, but she will still be rich.
Innocent employees, however, will be made to suffer much more than ANY investor felt harm from Martha's actions.

I would wish for a legal system that pursued Justice!

And now, anent further expostulation...

Bad Decision

During the season of deepest need,
Martha chose, but was it greed?
“Martha, dear, you’ll take a loss,
If you don’t give these stocks a toss.”

Insider trading is a crime,
The judges say, and mete out time,
There is one fact they cannot hide,
Martha Stewart doesn’t stay inside.

She got the call, and made a choice,
It wasn’t from her inner voice.
I’ve felt the panic of sudden alarm,
And fled to keep myself from harm.

I jumped too quick when I heard a shout,
A panicked response often doesn’t work out.
But criminal nature is a little bit more,
I wonder what they are punishing for?

For being successful, and knowing it all,
Is that the reason that she had to fall?
She stands to lose a million or more,
For not allowing a fall through the floor.

How many of us, in just this position,
Would be guilty under the same legislation?
The fireman calls, “Fire’s burning your way!”
Insider information? Who is to say?

Now, I am not saying she’s beyond reproach,
She could have used a good legal coach,
But what is the crime that she has just done,
She stole from someone without using a gun?

If Martha was great at throwing a pass,
The legal railroad would have run out of gas.
I think, like Bill Gates, she’s having to pay,
For not knowing whom to send money today.

She’s punished because she wouldn’t confess,
And try to blame someone else for the mess?
The logic is faulty, it seems clear to me,
How can you judge guilt from an innocent plea?

The ones who annoy are the ones who relate,
Their joy at hearing the news of her fate.
They seem to find happiness putting her down,
And would jump in the line to run her out of town.

The pleasure they’ll get at the pain she’ll receive,
Is akin to the harm that they think they perceive.
Though no one could measure this harm, they still bawl,
“It just wasn’t fair what she did to us all!”

It seems they’ve enjoyed Humpty Dumpty’s big fall,
And claim they support the firm rule of law.
“You can’t point to me and say I want to kill it!”
But why are they walking around with a skillet?

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . March 7, 2004

[Soaring Feather]

Okay, I shall try to express myself here. Martha make the decision to deceive. She was in another life, a stock broker.

I would think that justice was served by her conviction.
In my humble opinion this is no different from say the Michael Milken case of years ago. He was convicted of insider trading if memory servers me correctly. This is what Ms Stewart did.

[Soaring Feather]

Oh Bob, sorry I meant to mention your poem, Good work as usual. Thank You.

[Soaring Feather]

Good nite poets

May the sweet aroma of Lily of the Valley
fill your dreams
caress your face
tenderly lull you to sleep
in the safety of knowing love...

~ Dream a Little ~ Love a Lot ~

Today

Should thou lovest me this day
I would be content in today
not ask for tomorrow...
But... live this day only
in splendor of knowing
thou lovest me today...
bentfeather © 04/03/03

bentfeather
Touch the Chariot of Fire

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[Soaring Feather]

Sorry poets, I have to be away for the most part of the day. Planning committee meeting.

See you all this afternoon. :-)

[Colonel_Flagg]

As a former stockbroker myself, I believe Stewart got what she deserved. And they'll come down harder on her broker.

[NicknamedBob]

Thanks, Colonel. I'm not suggesting that Martha is totally innocent, but that the government's response is a sledgehammer for a very minor infraction. To me, it has the smell of Waco and Ruby Ridge. But that's just me.

How about a change of subject?

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, --
- The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen

Owen, Wilfred, 1893-1918, English poet. Owen, who died on the French front in World War I,
wrote of the horror and pity of war in verse that transfigured traditional meter and diction.
Siegfried SASSOON published 24 of Owen's poems posthumously (1920).

Your poet was a soldier. Certainly he understood war's pain and futility.

But he served his country, and died in its service.

I don't think he meant we shouldn't fight. I think he meant we shouldn't die unmourned. And he wasn't.

Posted to a suspected Troll from Germany
who calls himself Noyce.

Ironic, isn’t it? This guy from Germany chooses a poet who was killed by German guns?

(Figures -- If we ain’t saving their sorry butts, or kicking their sorry butts, they want us to kiss their sorry butts.)

[Colonel_Flagg]

Very interesting, Bob. A very good post. The Germans have been out in force over the last day or so (if you've read the hilarous "Spiegel" thread you know what I mean).

Wilfred Owen did wonderful work. I submit that of Keith Douglas (1920-1944), a tank officer who was killed in action in Normandy:

How To Kill
Keith Douglas

Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.

Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears

and look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being damned, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.

The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches.

Keith Douglas

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the Pics

Coffee & Donuts

Michael miserable failureMoore

[SAMWolf]

Winter's Roads



I cannot speak for all who stem
'Long roads less traveled as their way,
Nor question choices made by them
In days long past or nights long dim
by words they spoke and did not say.

Each road is long, though short it seems,
And credence gives each road a name
Of fantasies sun-drenched in beams
Or choices turned to darkened dreams,
To where each road wends just the same.

From North to South, then back again,
I followed birds like all the rest
Escaping nature's snowy den
On roads I've seen and places been,
Forsaking roads that traveled West.

This journey grows now to its end,
As road reflections lined in chrome
Give way to roads with greater bend
And empty signs that still pretend
They point the way to home sweet home.

But all roads lead to where we go
And where we go is where we've been,
So home is just a word we know,
That space in time most apropos
For where we want to be again.

For even home, it seems to me,
Is still a choice we all must face
From day to day and endlessly,
To choose if home is going to be
Another road - or just a place.

Ron Carnell

Michael miserable failureMoore

[SAMWolf]

Good Poem, Colonel Flagg.

[snippy_about_it]

Nice poem, thanks. Can't get to the music today, getting an error from work, but I will listen when I get home.

[Colonel_Flagg]

His master work is "Vergissmeinnicht." Probably the saddest poem I have ever read.

[Soaring Feather]

Owen, Wilfred, 1893-1918, English poet.

Hi Bob,

Thanks for posting this grand poem.
I hope it opened some eyes to truth, (Noyce) but probably did not.

[Soaring Feather]

How To Kill
Keith Douglas

Hiya Colonel, another fine example of a poet who died on the field of war.

[Soaring Feather]

Winter's Roads

Good afternoon Sam.
Interesting poem of one's life's choices.
The roads we travel, the people we meet.
Guided by us or another in the driver's seat.

Just a thought.

[Colonel_Flagg]

Hi, feather! How were your meetings today?

[Soaring Feather]

Hiya Colonel.


Boring to be completely honest. Deciding what we are going to eat in October is not a real toe tapper in my book.

There were a few moments of humour from yours truly and another member. It was a long meeting. This is going to be a big blow out for the area Finns so I had to pay attention and not stare out of the windows.

I am going to be doing the graphic work so that's why I am along for the ride.

I have gone to these hoedowns in other states. I went to Cape Cod, MA in 2001. Had a grand time while there. did you know Finns have cranberry bogs? I didn't, until I went there. This area is rich in Finnish history. My grandmother sailed into Fitchburg MA, in 1899.

Oh here I go on my Finn kick again, you Swedes are gonna get sick of me. hehehehehe