~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XVI~

November 6, 2004 | bentfeather and Poets of the Lair

[LunaRed]

To my son, who broke his leg over new years while skying. He will undergo surgery.Nothing so sad than a bird with a broken wing. (Joseph) 1976 Joseph my own little bear, I turn around and you are there. With eyes aglow and smile so grand, I reach to take you by the hand. But before the thought can depart my lips; Off, flys Joseph, a fleeting glimpse.

[Soaring Feather]

Hello LunaRed.


Aww so sorry about Joseph's accident. Lovely poem to him.

Thank you and prayers offered for his rapid recovery.

[Soaring Feather]

It's not enough to have lived. We should be determined
to live for something. May I suggest that it be creating
joy for others, sharing what we have for the betterment
of personkind, bringing hope to the lost and love to
the lonely.
--Leo Buscaglia, author & university professor (1924-1998)

[international american]

Bravo!

[Soaring Feather]

~Whispers In the Dark~

[Soaring Feather]

~Tears of Stone~

[laurenmarlowe]

Oh, Ms. Feather, that song is so beautiful. And what a lovely picture!

Thank you so much for sharing!

[Soaring Feather]

I do so love this song. Happy you enjoy it also.

[Soaring Feather]

Good Wednesday morning everyone.

[laurenmarlowe]

Good morning Ms. Feather! I hope you have a great day.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

The Eagle That is Forgotten



Sleep softly ... eagle forgotten ... under the stone.
Time has its way with you there, and the clay has its own.

"We have buried him now," thought your foes, and in secret rejoiced.
They made a brave show of their mourning, their hatred unvoiced.
They had snarled at you, barked at you, foamed at you, day after day.
Now you were ended. They praised you ... and laid you away.

The others, that mourned you in silence and terror and truth,
The window bereft of her crust, and the boy without youth,
The mocked and the scorned and the sounded, the lame and the poor,
That should have remembered forever, ... Remember no more.

Where are those lovers of yours, on what name do they call,
The lost, that in armies wept over your funeral pall?
They call on the names of a hundred high-valiant ones,
A hundred white eagles have risen, the sons of your sons,
The zeal in their wings is a zeal that your dreaming began.
The valor that wore out your soul in the service of man.

Sleep softly ... eagle forgotten... under the stone.
Time has its way with you there, and the clay has its own.
Sleep on, O brave-hearted, O wise man that kindled the flame --
To live in mankind is far more than to live in a name,
To live in mankind, far, far more than ... to live in a name

Vachel Lindsay

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Sam.


Wow powerful poem this morning, gorgeous graphic, too.

Thank You for all.

Listen to the tunes.


Whoa, snow and ice mixture this morning. Ugh

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, ms marlowe.

Hope you have a wonderful day also.

[laurenmarlowe]

Good evening Ms. Feather! I hope this evening finds you well.

Celtic Bagpipes ~ Scots Wa Hae

[Soaring Feather]

Thank You so much ms. marlowe for the pipes. I do love them so.

[snippy_about_it]

This is a beautiful piece about your son. Very nice.

[snippy_about_it]

Very good Judith Anne. Well done and the truth!

[snippy_about_it]

I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, just playing with words and trying to be honest.

LOL. Join the crowd. My muse has been missing for about 6 months. We have the graciousness of miss feather that allows us to just be ourselves here as we try and write from the heart and soul. Welcome.

[snippy_about_it]

Good evening feather. I hope this finds you in continued good health. The store is almost finished as far as the build out. We'll ping you to pictures this Sunday.