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Posted on 04/24/2006 8:55:04 PM PDT by Soaring Feather
Goodnight Miss Feather and Fellow Lairites . . . see you tomorrow.
Thank You, Kathy, for Blessed Assurance. Such a wonderful promise.
WOW never in my life have I seen hail that large. Indeed, it must be frightening to see something that size falling from heaven.
Today is Thursday, May 4, the 124th day of 2006 with 241 to
follow. The moon is waxing. The morning stars are Venus,
Neptune, Uranus, Mercury and Pluto. The evening stars are
Mars, Jupiter and Saturn.
Good morning,
Ms Feather!
Mernin', Tom!
That's so cute! LOL
Voices out of the shade that cried,
And long noon in the hot calm places,
And children's play by the wayside,
And country eyes, and quiet faces --
All these were round my steady paces.
Those that I could have loved went by me;
Cool gardened homes slept in the sun;
I heard the whisper of water nigh me,
Saw hands that beckoned, shone, were gone
In the green and gold. And I went on.
For if my echoing footfall slept,
Soon a far whispering there'd be
Of a little lonely wind that crept
From tree to tree, and distantly
Followed me, followed me. . . .
But the blue vaporous end of day
Brought peace, and pursuit baffled quite,
Where between pine-woods dipped the way.
I turned, slipped in and out of sight.
I trod as quiet as the night.
The pine-boles kept perpetual hush;
And in the boughs wind never swirled.
I found a flowering lowly bush,
And bowed, slid in, and sighed and curled,
Hidden at rest from all the world.
Safe! I was safe, and glad, I knew!
Yet -- with cold heart and cold wet brows
I lay. And the dark fell. . . . There grew
Meward a sound of shaken boughs;
And ceased, above my intricate house;
And silence, silence, silence found me. . . .
I felt the unfaltering movement creep
Among the leaves. They shed around me
Calm clouds of scent, that I did weep;
And stroked my face. I fell asleep.
Flight
by Rupert Brooke
I am loving this poetry you are posting.
Lovely with a touch of mystery.
I don't know much about poetry, but I know what I like.
I agree with you, it is about what poetry we like.
What ever we like, yes.
A Steak
Its big, a slab of real beef raw,
red and well marbled as it should be,
cut to my specification, tender still.
I marinate it in my secret sauce all night,
letting its magic seep within the steak,
and I grin in antisipation of tomorrow.
I checked the coals and liked what I saw,
and enjoyed the moment for I did see,
the steak laid gentle on the grill.
The sauces bubbled and sizzled oh so right,
the smell is ambrosia I swear an oath to take,
and my veggie neighbors moan in sorrow.
Seared and turned with loving care in awe,
pure perfection is being created before me,
and soon I will sit and eat my joyous fill.
I sit here, stuffed, grinning into the night,
lost in the revelry of juicy meat dishes I make,
even as my once veggie neighbors my grill borrow.
antisipation = anticipation
even as my once veggie neighbors my grill borrow.
LOL way to go!!
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