|
Posted on 08/28/2005 2:26:23 AM PDT by Soaring Feather
|
Good morning, ms feather.
Morning Johnn,
Here is how to reduce images: you know the code to post graphics, < img src="your image "> Reducing. < img height=600=width=600 src="yourimage =" >
You would need to take out the spaces after the " marks.
Just keep your numbers even, you can do any number height=450=width=450 and so on.
Good morning, Kathy!
Hello, La Enchiladita.
It was roses, roses, all the way,
With myrtle mixed in my path like mad:
The house - roofs seemed to heave and sway,
The church - spires flamed, such flags they had,
A year ago on this very day.
The air broke into a mist with bells,
The old walls rocked with the crowd and cries.
Had I said, "Good folk, mere noise repels -
But give me your sun from yonder skies!"
They had answered, "And afterward, what else?"
Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun
To give it my loving friends to keep!
Naught man could do, have I left undone:
And you see my harvest, what I reap
This very day, now a year is run.
There`s nobody on the house - tops now -
Just a palsied few at the windows set;
For the best of the sight is, all allow,
At the Shambles` Gate - or, better yet,
By the very scaffold`s foot, I trow.
I go in the rain, and, more than needs,
A rope cuts both my wrists behind;
And I think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds,
For they
fling, whoever has a mind,
Stones at me for my year`s misdeeds.
Thus I entered, and thus I go!
In triumphs, people have dropped down dead.
"Paid by the world, what dost thou owe
Me?" - God might question; now instead,
`Tis God shall repay: I am safer so.
by Robert Browning (1812 - 1889)
For some reason this reminds me of the uncalled for, persecution of President Bush, in the Aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.
Good night Miss Feather and Fellow Lairites . . . See you tomorrow.
Beautiful poem, Hope. Thank You.
You're very welcome Sweetpea . . . Nighty night.
The Road
It’s a long asphalt ribbon, unwinding under me,
my half bald tires sing their song and I go on.
From dawn to dusk until I see the glow of another dawn,
the road is as it has always been, and as it has to be.
The diesel growls its deep abiding one note tune,
as its black smoke breath tumbles from the stack.
Sweet song of the engine, there nothing that it lacks,
a symphony of the road, about good luck and ruin.
Swapping gears to fit the road, we fly low, not slow,
pulling a fifty-seven footer of hopefully frozen meat.
Last load was clothes for Wal-Mart, the overtime a treat,
just give me a trailer loaded full, and an open road to go.
I’ve seen it all and then again, so trust me when I say,
there ain’t nothing new on the road and plenty of it there.
I dodge the toy cars, the SUV wannabe’s with care,
and make my time down the line and another bill to pay.
Roads are like people, every one is all its own,
and I know them like the back of my own hand.
Old friends and sometimes foes across this land,
each sets it own rules, in its own key and tone.
It’s a long asphalt ribbon, unwinding under me,
my half bald tires sing their song and I go on.
From dawn to dusk until I see the glow of another dawn,
the road is as it has always been, and as it has to be.
The Road.
Well done.
Good morning Queenie and The Lair Poets.
Have a fabulous weekend!
Good morning, MoJo!
Man, I can really feel that one. Beautiful in feeling and apt in detail.
"The Inevitable Lightness"
--by W. S. Merwin
The roads and everything on them fly up and dissolve
a net rises from the world
the cobweb in which it was dying
and the earth breathes naked with its new scars
and sky everywhere
Nice poem, thanks.
A friend of mine had to take a job doing long-haul truck'n to help cover his bills. (Ministry doesn't pay well I can tell you!) He sent me this poem, claiming he doesn't have the sould of a poet, you decide.
Semi Truck’n Blues
by PastorChuck
I’m leaving out again today
A half a day’s rest
A half a day’s pay
Twenty tons of freight
An old Mack truck
And a headache
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder”
I’ve heard the poets often say
And when I’m out there all alone
It always seems that way
“Please take care of my family Lord”
For the thousandth time I pray
I call home and she assures me
That every things all right
She tells me that she loves me so
But she can’t sleep tonight
For wishing that I was by her side
So she could hold me tight
All week long I long to be there
To kiss her pretty face
To feel the rapture that true love brings
And see the ecstasy in her face
Hoping that no-one else
Will ever take my place
My heart beats faster with each passing mile
My expectations rise with
One last turn
One last dirt road
One last “Thank You Lord for bring me home’
Echoes through the skies
The dogs are happy to see me
But my kids are in their rooms
My wife, she’s washing dishes
With hands too wet to hug
“The cat messed on the floor again”
“Can you get that off the rug?”
The clothes go in the washer
and I must go off to sleep
And dream of how it should have been
While in my heart I weep
“You going to get up or sleep all day”
“I’ve got to go to town”
“How much money did you make?”
“We’ve got bills to pay”
But I’m ashamed to tell her
How damn little that I made
“We’ll get by” I try to tell her
“It will get better someday”
Another argument
Another disappointment
I don’t know why I go to work
I don’t know why I come home
“That old truck’s the only friend I’ve got”
I pout and then I’m gone
So I’m leaving out again today,
A half a day’s rest
A half a day’s pay
Twenty tons of freight
An old Mack truck
And a headache
Hi Johnn,
He sure writers like a poet. ;)
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
