~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XIX~

March 24, 2005 | ~bentfeather ~ Poets of The 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 me...

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©

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, dear ms marlowe!!

Gorgeous birds in the Lair this morning, rich like Texas!!

LOL

[Soaring Feather]

April is Poetry Month

Preference
by Charlotte Brontë

Not in scorn do I reprove thee,
Not in pride thy vows I waive,
But, believe, I could not love thee,
Wert thou prince, and I a slave.
These, then, are thine oaths of passion ?
This, thy tenderness for me ?
Judged, even, by thine own confession,
Thou art steeped in perfidy.
Having vanquished, thou wouldst leave me !
Thus I read thee long ago;
Therefore, dared I not deceive thee,
Even with friendship's gentle show.
Therefore, with impassive coldness
Have I ever met thy gaze;
Though, full oft, with daring boldness,
Thou thine eyes to mine didst raise.
Why that smile ? Thou now art deeming
This my coldness all untrue,­
But a mask of frozen seeming,
Hiding secret fires from view.
Touch my hand, thou self-deceiver,
Nay­be calm, for I am so:
Does it burn ? Does my lip quiver ?
Has mine eye a troubled glow ?
Canst thou call a moment's colour
To my forehead­to my cheek ?
Canst thou tinge their tranquil pallor
With one flattering, feverish streak?
Am I marble ? What ! no woman
Could so calm before thee stand ?
Nothing living, sentient, human,
Could so coldly take thy hand ?
Yes­a sister might, a mother:
My good-will is sisterly:
Dream not, then, I strive to smother
Fires that inly burn for thee.
Rave not, rage not, wrath is fruitless,
Fury cannot change my mind;
I but deem the feeling rootless
Which so whirls in passion's wind.
Can I love ? Oh, deeply­truly­
Warmly­fondly­but not thee;
And my love is answered duly,
With an equal energy.
Wouldst thou see thy rival ? Hasten,
Draw that curtain soft aside,
Look where yon thick branches chasten
Noon, with shades of eventide.
In that glade, where foliage blending
Forms a green arch overhead,
Sits thy rival thoughtful bending
O'er a stand with papers spread­
Motionless, his fingers plying
That untired, unresting pen;
Time and tide unnoticed flying,
There he sits­the first of men !
Man of conscience­man of reason;
Stern, perchance, but ever just;
Foe to falsehood, wrong, and treason,
Honour's shield, and virtue's trust !
Worker, thinker, firm defender
Of Heaven's truth­man's liberty;
Soul of iron­proof to slander,
Rock where founders tyranny.
Fame he seeks not­but full surely
She will seek him, in his home;
This I know, and wait securely
For the atoning hour to come.
To that man my faith is given,
Therefore, soldier, cease to sue;
While God reigns in earth and heaven,
I to him will still be true !

bf

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

CAT POEM



What a particular miracle is a cat,
Wrapped in parti colour,
Softer than milkweed down and warm,
Resonant with purring hallelujahs.

What a moving miracle is a cat,
Claw-pawed or kneading softly,
Kitten shadow wrestling or ice-eyed hunter,
Walking the fence between the wood and the tended corn.

What a sleeping miracle is a cat,
Belly up, paws half staff,
Eyes serenely closed
Breathing careless breaths - but step near and in a flickering,
Alert in readiness to fight, to flee.

What a loving miracle is a cat,
Leaning towards affection,
As to a source of sustenance,
Dearer than milk,
As if lacking it were death
And drawing out in response
A human love forgetting gulf of species
Head to head the minds respond
Each to its nature and together.

Sonia Brock

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Sam.

Oooo nice kitty, radu would love to adopt it I am sure.

Nice poem and good tunes.

Thanks for all.

[Soaring Feather]

'I Hope You Dance... '

This was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend. *The last line says it all. *

Dear Bertha,

I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.



"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now

I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.

I'm guessing; I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. If you're too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn't do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won't be the last.

Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about, just to let them know that you're thinking of them.

"People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there."


Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

[laurenmarlowe]

Good evening Ms. Feather.

"I Hope You Dance" is so lovely. Thank you.

[Soaring Feather]

~Frankie Laine~That's My Desire~

It is a lovely and poignant piece.
Today is what we have on this earth.
There is another world, but I hope not to see it for a long time.
I love the dance.
:-)

[Soaring Feather]

~Pavaroti/Celine Dion~I Hate You Then I Love You~

[laurenmarlowe]

Oh, that is a very lovely song Ms. Feather. This will be so nice to go back and listen to again.

[Soaring Feather]

I have loved Frankie Laine since I was 12 years old. My eldest brother met him in a nightclub in Buffalo, NY many years ago. Also, my brother bought a record (78RPM) and had Frankie autograph it to me. Alas, in all the years and moves the record was lost or broken.

[Soaring Feather]

~Roger Williams~Softly~

[laurenmarlowe]

What a nice memory Ms. Feather.

I think having those special memories are irreplaceable. Thank you for imparting yours.

You are always special!

[Soaring Feather]

Good night to all who enter the Lair.
May you find peace, love and joy from your visit.
To the poets who post their poetry and music,
Thank You, for treating this room with respect.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

Ode to my Broiler



O broiler, you are swift.
You make meat brown and tasty.
You are small, white and lovely
Like a marshmallow, only more useful.
O broiler, you let me win arguments
When Anthony says dumb things
Like "how are we supposed
to cook chicken breasts?"
And "we don't have a broiler,
what are you talking about?"
O broiler, what joy you bring
To my little life.
Don't tell the microwave
But I like you best.

Jen

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[Soaring Feather]

Morning Sam!


Ode to my Broiler

Well, I guess Odes have been written about everything!

Listening to tunes. Soldier Boy! That goes back a bit.


Have a great day.

[laurenmarlowe]

Good morning Ms. Feather!

The Hummingbird
by Harry Kemp

The sunlight speaks. And it's voice is a bird:
It glitters half-guessed half seen half-heard
Above the flower bed. Over the lawn ...
A flashing dip and it is gone.
And all it lends to the eye is this --
A sunbeam giving the air a kiss.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, ms marlowe.


Wonderful poem and graphic today.

I love those little birds. We have them here, but rarely do I see them. I have put hummingbird feeders out and was right keen about changing the nectar, but they don't come.

I fear, too many loose cats.