The Dragonflies' Lair~Thread XXVIII~

The Muse/Poets of the Lair | June 11, 2006 | bentfeather

[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]

Goodnight everyone.
Lord, please keep our troops safe.
Dream a little~Love a lot.

[WayzataJOHNN]

Thinking over Coffee


Oft of an evening I sit and ponder birth,
and its opposite, for both bookend life.
We see them as terminus, as if alone,
in between is everything from love to strife.
Yet, they are but mile markers along the way.
We existed as parts of others before birth,
and through memory in other’s heart and mind.
As such, we are anything but alone,
and by that last mile marker the truth you find.

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[Soaring Feather]

Thinking over Coffee


Nice poem.

[Soaring Feather]

T.S. Eliot said, "In my beginning is my end."

---

Today is Monday, June 12, the 163rd day of 2006 with 202 to
follow. The moon is waning. The morning stars are Venus,
Neptune, Uranus and Pluto. The evening stars are Mars, Mercury,
Jupiter and Saturn.

[Soaring Feather]

Those born on this date include:


John Augustus Roebling, designer of the Brooklyn Bridge, in 1806;

former U.S. President George H.W. Bush in 1924 (age 82);

singer Vic Damone in 1928 (age 78:);

Anne Frank, whose diary told of hiding from the Nazis in
occupied Holland, in 1929;

author Rona Jaffe in 1932 (age 74);

actor/singer Jim Nabors in 1933 (age 73);

jazz musician Chick Corea in 1941 (age 65);

sportscaster Marvin "Marv" Albert in 1943 (age 63);

actor Timothy Busfield in 1957 (age 49);

and actress Sherry Stringfield ("E.R.") in 1967 (age 39).

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Jewels!

[tomkow6]

Good morning, Ms Feather!

[Soaring Feather]

Bout time, I have been searching for you!

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Kathy In Alaska!

[NicknamedBob]

Beauty Comes From Within

We’ve learned that beauty’s from within, but let there be no doubt,
Sometimes it takes a bit of squeezing to coerce the beauty out.
Our inner selves are selfish, and would gladly stay that way,
Except our friends compel us to be pleasant every day.

It isn’t such a burden, we enjoy it, after all,
But somedays it’s quite a distance from the bedroom to the hall.
We always put a mask on, of pleasant smiles and care,
But keep in mind there is a vice that tightens under there.

Our vices are our secrets. They’re not for public view,
Wisely we do conceal them, for they are hidden assets too.
The pressure has to be controlled, it must be nicely done,
For bringing out a bit of charm for each and every one.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . May 11, 2004
© 2004

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, Bob!

I love this poem, so witty.

[NicknamedBob]

It was written to match that image.

Naturally, when I saw your picture, I had to put the two together.

[Soaring Feather]

Images are real good muse feeders aren't they??

Sometimes. when I get in a rut and can't get my imagination working, I will look at an image to see if I can get a jump start to write. ;)

[NicknamedBob]

"Images are real good muse feeders aren't they??"

I used to receive regular challenges of images that needed to have their story told, or at least, a story told. Some of my more unusual poems came about as a result of that.

But I also wrote a poem to describe what was happening. Oddly enough, I never quite found an image that captured the essence of the poem.

Exchange Rate


A picture’s worth a thousand words, you send your image through,
I dash down but a hundred words and send it back to you.
You’re happy with the process, exclaiming all the while,
You think it is so wonderful, I really have to smile.

You’re matching up an image with a bit of doggerel,
And you’ve been too nice to mention that they have a bit of smell.
You seem to think you’re winning in this game of sleight of hand,
While all I’ve done is toss out words and see just where they land.

Like doing up a load of clothes and matching up the socks,
It’s not as though I have to take them down to beat on rocks.
I take what’s worth a thousand and give you one for ten,
And when I look up one more time you’re standing there again.

As you go home just chortling over what you think is great,
I’m getting rich as Croesus at this greedy exchange rate.
While you take out these loads of nonsense that I’ve told,
I’m filling up my treasure vault with images of gold.


NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . April 27, 2004

[Soaring Feather]

[Kathy in Alaska]

Good morning, ms feather. I am off to work.

[Soaring Feather]

Oh boy, my favouite dancing team!! LOL

I have not seen this troupe in a good while. Thanks. ;)

[EsmeraldaA]

Good morning Ms Feather.

New thread, great! ;)

[EsmeraldaA]

Nicely done Bob.