~The Dragon Flies' Lair Thread XI~

April 17, 2004 | bentfeather, and poets of the Dragon Flies' Lair

[SAMWolf]

Ripped it off from one of CholeraJoe's posts.

Darksheare figures FR went down when someone sprewed his coffee on the server when they saw Kerry's bicycle picture.

[Darksheare]

LOL!

[Colonel_Flagg]

You know, a conspiracy theorist might figger that Darksheare's coffee had something to do with it.

Good thing there are no conspiracy theorists on FR, huh? :)

[Colonel_Flagg]

Kerry's bicycle picture.

I'm obviously missing something here. Let a guy go away for one weekend and I miss all the fun. I don't wish to pollute the Lair with such a picture but can you point me toward where I can point and laugh?

[SAMWolf]

Kerry's bicycle

[Colonel_Flagg]

Words fail me, but thanks :)

[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

[SAMWolf]

Could he look more dorky?

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[Darksheare]

LOL!
What if my coffee IS the conspiracy?

[NicknamedBob]

"What if my coffee IS the conspiracy?"

I'll have a cup, please.

While I'm here...

On Being Loved

When gazing in the mirror there’s a vision seldom seen.
What one starts with, what one works to, and what is in between,
The loveliness that falls on eyes is but the shadow of,
The beauty that is felt inside the heart that looks with love.

Would your sweetheart love the vision that is only in your eyes?
And does your lover notice all the things that you despise?
When looking at the markings of the map that is your face,
Did you know it is your smile that is the treasure in that place?

No matter what your eyes behold or what you’d like to be,
It is your eyes when looking back your lover wants to see.
And though your arms may lack the graces you admire,
The gentle, warm embrace of them would never, ever tire.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . April 27, 2004

[Darksheare]

LOL!
Hmm..
Sam, who's the current 'keeper of the doom brew' and where are they at this moment?
(Hopefully not doing warp 9 in circles around light fixtures?)

[Darksheare]

Cool, thanks!
(almost typed in 'thnaks'.. and that's AFTER my morning coffee. Hoo-boy..)

[Soaring Feather]

Morning Bob. Oh I love the way your poems sing. Beautiful work.

You work your talent to the fullest.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the Pics

Coffee & Donuts

Michael miserable failureMoore

[SAMWolf]

The Most Beautiful Flower



The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown
For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
And declared with overacted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.
No vibrant colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower and replied. "Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.

And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that's mine.
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man

Cheryl L. Costello-Forshey

Michael miserable failureMoore

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning Sam. Dang, you have The Lair jumping this morning with Doo Wop!! LOL

Very nice reflective poem today reminding us to be thankful for our gifts.
Thanks for coffee, donuts, tunes and poetry.

[SAMWolf]

:-) I'll give some Gospel a try tomorrow.

[Soaring Feather]

Okay, deal!!

[Soaring Feather]

~Tony Bennett~Fly Me To the Moon~