Posted on 08/28/2005 2:26:23 AM PDT by Soaring Feather
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Neat! As one who has gardened, I appreciate this.
Very good, Hope. I like it much!
Hello, 'feather. The new moon is near.
Good afternoon Ms Feather! *Hugs*
athletic
jewel like dragonfly
handstand does
rim 9/30/05
O NIGHTINGALE that on yon bloomy spray
Warbl'st at eeve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love. O, if Jove's will
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeles doom, in some grove nigh;
As thou from year to year hast sung too late
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why.
Whether the Muse or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
by John Milton (1608 - 1674)
Good night Miss Feather and everyone . . . see you tomorrow.
And I Remember
The road unwinds before me,
to some far place yet unseen
or familiar haunts so well known.
Across landscapes so windblown,
through weather fair or mean,
I ride, from sea to sea.
And I remember.
Redwood scents the air at dawn,
and the highway turns east at last,
climbing towards peaks above me.
The scenery is spread out for all to see,
like a nations history moving past,
here for the moment and then gone.
And I remember.
Carving turns through curves of stone,
rocky wonders on every side,
and the wind so cold and clear.
Im so alive and far from fear,
out here your feelings cant hide,
just you and the machine alone.
And I remember.
Past Tahoes crystal sheen,
and Renos lights at night,
I ride past the salt flats glare.
You have time to think out there,
doubting if youll ever get it right,
for the Fates can be so mean.
And I remember.
Midwestern cornfields fly by,
and those corn-fed gals I swear,
heart stealers one and all.
never to forget the loons lone call,
echoing in you, more then your share,
as the miles behind you fly.
And I remember.
Chi-towns noise and congested hell,
and the hard looks from the cops there,
saying your not welcome so move on.
Passing empty steel mills and life gone,
like hollow ghosts of the past I swear,
their stories too well known to tell.
And I remember.
Climbing through the Appalachian folds,
winding roads through villages of old,
right out of the history books Ive read.
Its here, history alive, not yet dead,
and the road dares you to be a bit bold,
amid the autumn leaves like piled gold.
And I remember.
The Big Apple welcomes with grey walls,
and hard eyes and piles of garbage,
until you find the chilly grey sea.
Look all you want, and then let it be,
and turn away from the urban rage,
for the open roads beckoning call.
And I remember.
The road unwinds before me,
to some far place yet unseen
or familiar haunts so well known.
Across landscapes so windblown,
through weather fair or mean,
I ride, from sea to sea.
Awwww,such a sweet pup,thanks Connie.
Queenie! Whatcha doing up so late! *Hugs*
wonderful work Johnn. Wow, this poem is so strong.
Hello La En.
Hi Connie, LOL well, one just never knows what Queenie will do, does one!!
LOL
HUGS
Lovely song thanks so much. HUGS and Good night.
Sweat dreams Ms.Feather!
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