~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XVI~

November 6, 2004 | bentfeather and Poets of the Lair

[snippy_about_it]

Beautiful song. Thanks.

[snippy_about_it]

Thank you Sam. Moving poem. Good tunes.

[snippy_about_it]

I love the pipes, always loved them. This year, my first living in Oregon, my friend SAMWolf and I went to a Veterans Day ceremony in the hills here. They had a single pipe player roaming the hillside in the tall evergreens that grow here playing just angelic music. It had to have brought tears to every ear that could hear and heart that could feel it.

Thanks for bringing back the memory.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning poets!
Snowy and cold day in New York State.

[Soaring Feather]

Thank you, snippy I am feeling much better. So thankful be home and to sleep in my own bed.

Those little comforts are often taken for granted, but I remain optimistic and gaining strength daily.

[Colonel_Flagg]

Good morning, Lair! Finally, I've got some time to breathe!

To The True Romance
Rudyard Kipling

Thy face is far from this our war,
Our call and counter-cry,
I shall not find Thee quick and kind,
Nor know Thee till I die,
Enough for me in dreams to see
And touch Thy garments' hem:
Thy feet have trod so near to God
I may not follow them.

Through wantonness if men profess
They weary of Thy parts,
E'en let them die at blasphemy
And perish with their arts;
But we that love, but we that prove
Thine excellence august,
While we adore discover more
Thee perfect, wise, and just.

Since spoken word Man's Spirit stirred
Beyond his belly-need,
What is is Thine of fair design
In thought and craft and deed;
Each stroke aright of toil and fight,
That was and that shall be,
And hope too high, wherefore we die,
Has birth and worth in Thee.

Who holds by Thee hath Heaven in fee
To gild his dross thereby,
And knowledge sure that he endure
A child until he die --
For to make plain that man's disdain
Is but new Beauty's birth --
For to possess in loneliness
The joy of all the earth.

As Thou didst teach all lovers speech
And Life all mystery,
So shalt Thou rule by every school
Till love and longing die,
Who wast or yet the Lights were set,
A whisper in the Void,
Who shalt be sung through planets young
When this is clean destroyed.

Beyond the bounds our staring rounds,
Across the pressing dark,
The children wise of outer skies
Look hitherward and mark
A light that shifts, a glare that drifts,
Rekindling thus and thus,
Not all forlorn, for Thou hast borne
Strange tales to them of us.

Time hath no tide but must abide
The servant of Thy will;
Tide hath no time, for to Thy rhyme
The ranging stars stand still --
Regent of spheres that lock our fears,
Our hopes invisible,
Oh 'twas certes at Thy decrees
We fashioned Heaven and Hell!

Pure Wisdom hath no certain path
That lacks thy morning-eyne,
And captains bold by Thee controlled
Most like to Gods design;
Thou art the Voice to kingly boys
To lift them through the fight,
And Comfortress of Unsuccess,
To give the dead good-night --

A veil to draw 'twixt God His Law
And Man's infirmity,
A shadow kind to dumb and blind
The shambles where we die;
A rule to trick th' arithmetic
Too base of leaguing odds --
The spur of trust, the curb of lust,
Thou handmaid of the Gods!

O Charity, all patiently
Abiding wrack and scaith!
O Faith, that meets ten thousand cheats
Yet drops no jot of faith!
Devil and brute Thou dost transmute
To higher, lordlier show,
Who art in sooth that lovely Truth
The careless angels know!

Thy face is far from this our war,
Our call and counter-cry,
I may not find Thee quick and kind,
Nor know Thee till I die.

Yet may I look with heart unshook
On blow brought home or missed --
Yet may I hear with equal ear
The clarions down the List;
Yet set my lance above mischance
And ride the barriere --
Oh, hit or miss, how little 'tis,
My Lady is not there!

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

The Prairie-Grass Dividing



THE prairie-grass dividing—its special odor breathing,
I demand of it the spiritual corresponding,
Demand the most copious and close companionship of men,
Demand the blades to rise of words, acts, beings,
Those of the open atmosphere, coarse, sunlit, fresh, nutritious,
Those that go their own gait, erect, stepping with freedom and command—leading, not following,
Those with a never-quell’d audacity—those with sweet and lusty flesh, clear of taint,
Those that look carelessly in the faces of Presidents and Governors, as to say, Who are you?
Those of earth-born passion, simple, never-constrain’d, never obedient,
Those of inland America.

Walt Whitman

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Sam!!

Woo Hoo the tunes this morning have me tapping my foot and getting deep into the blues. In other words -I'm in a Mood!!!!!!!!!!!!!


LOL

Nice pome this morning. Hey, Sam sell tons of bird seed today!

Thanks much for all!

[Soaring Feather]

GM Colonel Flagg.

Sigh....


To The True Romance

Rudyard Kipling

A giant amoung writers. Thank You, Colonel. Have a calm day if possible. HUGS

[Soaring Feather]

Our duty is to be useful, not according to our desires but
according to our powers.
--Henri F. Amiel, Swiss writer (1821-1881)



Sooner or later, you are going to learn, just as I did,
that there is a difference between KNOWING the path and
WALKING the path.
--Morpheus, from The Matrix

[snippy_about_it]

Good morning Colonel.

[snippy_about_it]

It's Blues day at the Lair. Thanks Sam.

[snippy_about_it]

Good morning feather. Chilly day here in Oregon. It's been hanging around freezing during the night, low 40's during the day.

[Soaring Feather]

We have from 3 to 4 inches of snow fall in the night, now it's raining. I have seen pics of the ice storm in Ohio, gorgeous and awesome, but so dangerous.

[snippy_about_it]

Ice is worse than snow any day. I'm blessed to be here this winter. Now it's time to go sell seed!

[Soaring Feather]

Scrappy Thoughts

Little scraps are cut and sewn--
to make a quilt--pattern unknown.
Pattern unknown-- structure none,
a quilters dream--untethered scheme.

Poems are a scrappy thoughts
Shards, Shades, Shadows, of wordy fabric.
Lame' threads--sparkle, diamonds in the mind.
Put pen to paper for an ode--
ode to all who make a quilter dream.

by bentfeather

[laurenmarlowe]

Good evening Ms. Feather! What a lovely poem, thank you!

[Soaring Feather]

HUGS!!!

[LunaRed]

Scrappy Thoughts, How pretty to see and read at the end of a long day. LunaRed