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The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread~XXXIV~March 10, 2007
March 10, 2007
| Soaring Feather/Poets of the Lair
Posted on 03/09/2007 9:21:10 PM PST by 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
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TOPICS: Chit/Chat; Humor; Music/Entertainment; Poetry
KEYWORDS: dragonflies; glengaulway; music; poetry
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To: WayzataJOHNN; All
Reposting this lovely piece by WayzataJohnn
Dawn Song
Silent it comes, the sunrise serenade
as the sun warms the window glass
it gentle sighs in its chipped old frame
in subtle soft welcome to day
And I listen to all it may say
be it common news, or hints of fame
pay heed for this news too will pass
as the morning into day does fade
Colors pale drift
across the early morning snow
chasing whirls of time upon the wind
even before the first bird rises up so high
Such a moment beneath the clearing sky
upon the inner silent heart it is pinned
and we in that tiny place in time know
and then time shift
WJ
To: All
Influences
by Wayzata Johnn 03.2006
The simple question is,
who are my true Muses?
and the answer echoes back,
You, each and every one are!
I like reading hers and his,
some make the mind fuse.
Others, and I pause and go back,
to look again from not so far.
Each has their own light,
and it sets its own mood.
I see something different then,
and I smile in joy at that!
Somehow you get it just right,
pity and bordering on rude.
Or smooth as oiled glass, like Zen,
slim truth, or humor running fat.
You make me think, feel,
and I live larger for it, my thanks, see.
And I try to give of myself, a bit,
hard as that is I try, oh how I try anyway!
Sometimes the words make me reel,
and I shudder at their accuracy in me.
Like arrows of truth that can’t help but hit,
or catch you like a mine, so subtle they lay.
To: All
Glen Gaul Way
The Sorceress
In the land of Glen Gaul Way
in the woods by the bay
a sorceress lived in a cave, conjuring
spells upon the brave, honorable, knights
of the land holding forth her warty hand
with spoken word from the old tongue
cursed them all from day one.
She cursed the moon and the stars
that shone upon their scars
their ladies fair with golden ringlets
hung from their hair.
The woods animals by day
freezing them in gnarled forms
moaning, groaning from their lairs
total dread and despair
of the sorceress vile tongue
once started ne’er to be undone.
Once a lovely lass, she held her jewel laden,
hand to a glass of good and evil
of the sun who found her wanting
in purity and love.
Her broken heart turned to shards of glass
scattered to the four winds of pain
the realm beyond the sun
where the stars had not yet begun.
Her lover turned his face
away and showered her with disgrace.
Pity he did take on her sending her to the cove
to work her magic spells from dusk to dawn
taking on the shape of a fawn.
A gentle loving innocence
with dewy eyes of trust.
Like the unicorn of ancient times
she lay hidden in the reeds
showing just the need for nourishment.
Honey from the comb of bees
with tender blades of grass while on her knees.
Drinking dew drops clinging from the flora
reclining in the honey moon light
while the goblins from the deep woods
would grin at the thought of devouring her at night.
Safe and warm snuggled in tall, dry reeds
she ever wanting need to cast a spell would succeed
and turn her beauty to wanton, craven, need
her power to ply, in secret whispered chants
flung to the skies
twirling in a wild dance, dipping to the rants
of howling winds, and lonesome cries of wolves
on open plains, and wild dogs in dens of ten.
And the little foxes set to play
the dancing of the vixens sway
shafts of moonlight filter in
the furry figures in a spin
yipping, howling at the moon.
The shooting stars in outer space
racing, racing across the face
of blacken sky with splays of diamonds in the sky.
The wantonness of time whirling across Aurora's face.
Her colors she would wear through her flowing golden hair.
The curses flung from now to kingdom come
upon the Land Of Glen Gaul Way.
Haunted Kingdom near the glen.
bentfeather (c) 01.12.06
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To: All
The Child of Glen Gaul Way
Deep within the forest
upon a simple whim
the wiz was out walking one day
and came across him.
Him, a wee lad, without a name, nor home
how he came to be in the land of trees
is totally unknown.
His clothes of rags could not be traced
to any villager's abode
no warts, no moles, marked his little frame,
so except for a deformity on his little feet
no toenails on each little toe.
The wiz wondered to himself, who had left this mark on him,
no strawberries on his chest, no infirmities in his bones
just this little creature, dressed in rags, alone, with no toenails.
I'll hold this little one close to me
he'll not suffer any harm, to the castle he will go
My Lady will shelter him.
The Wiz and the babe wandered through the dale
in and out of sun's bright rays.
The Wiz was weary from this trip as he hobbled along
the babe was hungry, he was too, the burden bothered him.
The Wiz saw visions in his sleep, of honeysuckle's rose
of green lush, fens along the way, hidden in the glen.
He searched the skies from every knoll for the sight of them
the banners flapping in the wind of Magical Glenn Gaul Way.
Growing every more weary the Wiz was getting thin, the babe
wrapped in rags didn't cry any more. His little short breaths did seem,
more labored than before.
Wiz was worried he and the babe would not make it home to her
Each step became like lugging a huge round stone
clearly he and the baby were very gravely ill.
Nights became unbearable the shivering babe all but gone.
The Wiz gave out one last mighty call to the Griffin on the wind.
Fly down bird and carry us to the castle wall.
My Lady waits there near the ivied halls.
The raucous bird heard the call and speedily did fly
to the broken down old man and near dead baby close by.
Griffin squatted down his huge frame for them,
using his huge wings to push them onto his back,
then take off did begin.
Mounted on the creatures back the flight now full speed.
The castle in full sight and relief inside for them.
My Lady true took the babe from the old man's charge.
She nurtured him all his days
there is a place for him.
Glen Gall Way has his knight tho, many years away
the babe found in the woods will rein for many a day. 
bentfeather (c) 02.07.06
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To: All
The Glen of Glenn Gaul Way
The Crack of Dawn
Dawn awakens Glenn Gaul Way,
the cracking of the sound of day.
Day creatures come to life
while night creatures hide from light.
Birds of the night wing their way
to their havens, filled with dreaded, hairy mavens.
Given to clicking tongue,and rolling eyes, cackling sounds
from their withered throats surround
the dank, smelly holes of hell
inhabited by trolls with pointed toes
and an never ending dripping nose.
Eyes a fire, drooling tongues,
for them the fun has just begun.
News of the baby found in the glenn
has them seething to begin, the torture
of the little lad, whose toenails he never had.
My Lady feels a shiver in her bones, shaking her to her satin skin,
the creepy, crawling, hounds of hell
bray in the dungeon on the hill.
She knows the evil lurking there, in the mavens unholy share
of the peaceful, gorgeous, sun filled glen.
They've always been there to remind the denizens of
the glenn that evil lives and lives again.
My Lady's keen eye catches a glimpse, of Magic Merlin, hieing
up the path, his steady foot of mercury wings, passes by the other things.
The fawn feeding in tall grass, shivers from the wrath
emanating from Merlin's breathe, as he speeds along
to his task.
Day birds take to flight as the winds gust around
the magician trotting on the ground.
No harm, ho harm, the chant be heard
Merlin parsing out every word.
No harm, no harm, shall there be to the little
rag, wrapped babe there be.
He was born to riches, to rule Glenn Gaul Way
the mavens, trolls, will rue the day
any harm to come to him, the toe nail less Prince
the Wiz brought to them.
To be continued
bentfeather (c) 02.09.02
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To: All
The Fairy Dance
She held the forest under a spell,
The Queen Fairy of the Glen.
The spell was cast in an act of retaliation.
The forest of the Glenn frozen from hem to hem
since the day she cast her spell
blast by blast of icy air, crystal beads
all things evil in the weeds.
With groaning from the lily pond,
agony of frozen bliss
spoken from the frozen lips
of warted toads, and lizard frogs.
She whispered in the Glenn a curse of wrath
upon his golden head,
in unhappiness he would rue,
the day he withdrew, his loving words from the air
and left her alone living there.
A century of frozen doom she uttered between parched lips.
Your golden head will not rest until the forest has been blessed
by the child of the Glenn.
The child of the Glen ragged, thin, and broken of limb
hovered near the castle wall, fearful of being seen at all.
Discovery of this waif lad, quite by a stroke of luck
by Magic Merlin of the Old.
His tutelage and care given over by My Lady of the Glenn,
her Lord did not return to her, for the battle did him in.
Her broken heart could not go on to fight the devils of the Glen
And so it came to pass the curse was laid out upon the grass.
My Lady aged became unkempt, the child uncared for left
to forage in the dell where the deer and creatures dwell.
Her shattered heart all but stopped beating in her breast.
Her faint heart turned to quest no more, for the her lover in the Glenn, her golden knight, of The Order of the Glenn.
One eve as My Lady fell to rest upon the golden crested bed
a dream upon her came, a dream that they would rule again.
My Lady left her bed and walked upon the carpets red
following the glowing light, taking her to her delight.
In her dream my Lady heard, her knight survived the dreaded foe
and lived to go another day.
For on this day the curse did end,
when home again her grand knight rode the highway to the Castle Grand of Glenn Gaul Way, the perfect land.
bentfeather (c) 02. 14. 06
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To: Seadog Bytes
We've had an easy winter, thankfully.
Sometimes our springs are rainy, too, but it's not into that yet. We're heading for a warmup that's coming from your direction, too. Looking forward to that.
787
posted on
03/21/2007 9:45:57 AM PDT
by
Lady Jag
(A positive attitude will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.)
To: All
Dancing
Dancing with a lion
dancing with a man
dancing with a poet
fast as I can.
Dancing with the thunder
ahead of lightning and rain
dancing with the dragon
keeping apace with him.
Dancing with the music
playing in my head
the songs of silence
over-ride the dread
strings of midnight
on a broken violin
screeching though the night air
riding in the din
then dancing with the lion
comes around again.
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To: All
The Black Dance
A crucible of black
surrendering in unabashed pleasure
letting go totally
to the essence of you
submitting to your arms
of desire in a black dance.
I don't want to fall in love
I don't want to fall in love
with you
with you
pulled into an eddy of black warm
submitting to your black eyes
to the sensuality of you
as a moth to a flame
the fire raging, the desire climbing
to a fevered pitch beyond sanity
loving you, beyond the limits of time
time... the great divider,
space the connect
the wait the agony,
the bliss nearing,
the freedom of the haunting
in that place, our place
warm in the mist of the hoar
safe to dance our black dance.
No, I don't want to fall in love with you
With you.
bentfeather (c) 03.02.06
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To: Seadog Bytes; Soaring Feather; All
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I look out the window and think "Oh at last
The spring is a-coming and winter is past."
The flowers in the dark earth are making their way
Towards the green grass, for to greet a new day.
First come the snowdrops, so pure and so white,
Standing out there in the brilliant sunlight.
Followed by crocuses, yellow, white, mauve,
I have in my garden a real treasure trove.
And now see the tulips of various hue
Colours of beauty for me and for you.
Look at the daffodil, trumpet so yellow
Bowing to nature and saying "hello"
The bluebells ring out and their lovely perfume
Together with primroses fill up my room.
The sweet scented violets awake in their beds.
And smile at the trees as they all nod their heads.
The sun in the sky and refreshing soft rain
Makes me happy to welcome the Springtime again.
Janet Short-Windsor |
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790
posted on
03/21/2007 10:24:21 AM PDT
by
Lady Jag
(A positive attitude will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.)
To: Soaring Feather
My goodness, you have been busy. LOL. The artwork is fantastic and I am sure that the poems are as well.
791
posted on
03/21/2007 11:08:08 AM PDT
by
NY Attitude
(You are responsible for your safety until the arrival of Law Enforcement Officers!)
To: Lady Jag
Hello Lady, love the graphic and poem.
Well, I have been motivated to get out of the house and walk to the pharmacy! The temp is 42F, March wind is blowing and it is lovely out there.
To: NY Attitude
LOL
I am trying to get the Glen Gaul Way poems in one place and in order. One place will work however, they will not be in order. I have been searching the old threads, some of them have nearly 2K posts on them.
When you have time you should read the work.
Glen Gaul Way is gonna be my epic work. See it while it is happening. LOL
To: Soaring Feather
When you have time you should read the work I will read each and every one of them. In fact I am looking forward to doing so.
794
posted on
03/21/2007 12:21:51 PM PDT
by
NY Attitude
(You are responsible for your safety until the arrival of Law Enforcement Officers!)
To: NY Attitude
These poems are so very dear to my heart. I cannot do a complete listing of all the poems regarding the magic of the Glen. I do not have permission from one of the poets who added a great deal to the mystery.
That saddens me.
To: All
Gas Bagging Gore
Ol' gas bagging Gore is on the hill
filling the air with more hot air
if he's just shut up and move on
the temps would drop, the trees would
pop open with their blossoms.
But oh, no he has the floor, his glory
is beamin', the pubbies are steamin'
praying for his leavin' afore they
all hit the floor with boredom.
He was a VEEP you know, his bloated rear
takes up more space on the planet that Pluto
who subsequently no longer exists.
May we all say a prayer, Ol' Gas Bag Gore
ruins the air and is driven to a remote island like Elba. SF 03.21.07
To: NY Attitude; Lady Jag; starbase; All
So sorry I pinged you to the wrong thread!!! Oh me. LOL
I will repost the tune in the Lair. :)
To: Soaring Feather; All
To: NY Attitude; Lady Jag; starbase; All
To: Soaring Feather
Very soothing music. Thanks.
800
posted on
03/21/2007 1:45:29 PM PDT
by
NY Attitude
(You are responsible for your safety until the arrival of Law Enforcement Officers!)
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