The Dragon Flies' Lair~ Thread XXVI~March 28, 2006

The Seven Muses | March 28, 2006 | 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©
2002

[Soaring Feather]

LOL! Cute.

[Lady Jag]

[Soaring Feather]

I shall fly!
IF I can get out of the bubble I'm in.

[Lady Jag]

Therein lies your name

[Soaring Feather]

Yupper!

[Soaring Feather]

Sweet Dreams everyone.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.
It's a new day today!

[Lady Jag]

Happy Saturday!

[Soaring Feather]

Jewels
by Sara Teasdale


If I should see your eyes again,
I know how far their look would go --
Back to a morning in the park
With sapphire shadows on the snow.


Or back to oak trees in the spring
When you unloosed my hair and kissed
The head that lay against your knees
In the leaf shadow's amethyst.


And still another shining place
We would remember -- how the dun
Wild mountain held us on its crest
One diamond morning white with sun.


But I will turn my eyes from you.
As women turn to put away
The jewels they have worn at night
And cannot wear in sober day.

[Soaring Feather]

Happy Saturday to you as well.


We had lots of rain in the night. We needed it. I'm glad my yard work was completed last night. Lawn looks good.

[Lady Jag]

There Will Come Soft Rains
by Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rains and the
smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their
shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at
night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous
white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low
fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war,
not one
Will care at last when it done.

Not one would mind, neither bird
nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke
at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

[Soaring Feather]

Oh lovely! Totally appropriate for these times and the day.

[Lady Jag]

Rain is arriving here tomorrow and my yardwork is far from done. Someday.

[Soaring Feather]

I have a very small area which I choose to tend. There is a handyman for the property, but I don't like his half hearted attempts at raking leaves.

Yesterday afternoon, I took my camera out and took several pictures of the early flowers. There were some birds at the bird bath. The Jays and the Robins got into a turf war at the bath. Pretty funny.

[Soaring Feather]

how the *dun* Probably should be sun.






I did not check this word against another copy, I think this is a typo that I copied and pasted. My bad.

[Lady Jag]

I have an acre and the vast majority of oaks on earth.  

[Soaring Feather]

Oh my, that is a good deal to tend. Oak leaves multiply in winter.

[Soaring Feather]

I shall fly again.

[Soaring Feather]

In dusk's dim light they circle round
a fairy dance on the ground
sparkling glittering, little ones glow
in their dazzling dust below
fern's broad fronds,
clover's sweet smell
the fairies dance til early dawn

Poof, off they go to rest
each and every little head
happy in their thoughts to be
ever loving lasting free!

bentfeather (c) 04.22.06

[Lady Jag]

There Will Come Soft Rains
by Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rains and the
smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their
shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at
night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous
white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low
fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war,
not one
Will care at last when it done.

Not one would mind, neither bird
nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke
at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.