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Posted on 06/25/2005 9:22:33 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
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I believe we are in agreement on the essential greatness of Teasdale. :)
I personally believe there's only one kind of real love - and she writes about it often.
Good evening, ms. marlowe.
Nice poem this evening, thank you.
My little lizard's back
Flicking out his tongue
Cleaning up my screens
and having lots of fun
Sucking in those moths
Brought here by the light
He's patiently waiting . . . so
Please moths . . . don't take flight.
rim 7/13/05
Wonderful little poem and graphic. I love it. You are so clever.
Goodnight all . . .see you tomorrow.
Good night dear lady.
He's waiting patiently . . .so
I wrote it down correctly in my notes , but transposed it when typing . . . BOO!!!
Night all!!!
Garden Magic
The wind kissed the strings of the harp and it sang,
nature’s song as old as time, across eternity itself again.
It drifted through the trees of the garden, so softly rang,
and I sat on our bench and let slip my deep held pain.
I watched the moon’s light rise above the garden wall,
and so soft it ran, across the lawn in swift and silent race.
The poplars threw long shadows from their stand so tall,
and glittering dragonflies dance above the ivy’s lace.
A night bird sings their sweet call, the trill so clear,
and I close my eyes and let the night fill me with peace.
I hold these small moments so close, and so dear,
for they give a tattered soul another moment’s lease.
I rest here in silent captivation, and soothing healing,
rebuilding my self, for yet another day, another test.
Here I find something so precious and appealing,
here I take a breath, and give myself to gentle rest.
How can I keep saying EXQUISITE without sounding like a fake? It is truly a beautiful poem.
Its been your descriptions of your garden, that reminded me how much I miss a garden now. There is nothing like a garden of your own, a place you can relax amid your own effort, and discover those moments you can find only there.
My garden poems are but my imagining of your garden, and each is but a small gift, for you sharing your special place with us.
It's my pleasure to share my little garden with everyone in the Lair. I am pleasure it served some inspiration for you.
Faith is a gift of spirit that allows the soul to remain
attached to its own unfolding. When faith is soulful, it
is always planted in the soil of wonder and questioning.
--Thomas Moore (1779-1852
The long days of summer pass me by
as I chase my ever elusive butterfly.
I run after it every day
& still it manages to keep away.
Whenever I seem to have it in sight,
it turns a sharp left or makes a quick right.
I finally digress, I'm not to hold
the beauty with wings of solid gold.
I lay, defeated, on Earth's lush, green floor.
I can't chase after it anymore.
Just as my hope is almost gone,
I see my butterfly on the horizon.
The moral of the story is, you see,
when I chased, my butterfly tried to flee,
but when I waited... it returned to me.
Elusive Butterfly
spider leaps
from a peach tree branch
ancient bunji jumper
by Michael Moore
Goodnight Miss Feather and fellow Lairites . . .see you tomorrow
LOL
Wonderful. Thank You and nite, nite.
A Moment to Myself
By the crackling fire, warmth going deep, welcome indeed,
easy moments pass, and quiet moods are here, pleasant times.
I sit here at peace for once, absorbing it all, each to heed,
utter relaxation, regeneration begins, part of life’s rhyme.
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