The Dragonflies'Lair~Thread LIII

Soaring Feather and Poets of The Lair | June 1, 2008 | Soaring Feather

[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

[tomkow6]

Afternoon, TT!

[tomkow6]

Good morning,

Fellow Lardites!!!

[tomkow6]

CUBS SWEEP the Rockies!

FIRST PLACE CUBS 5

Rockies 3 

 

NEXT GAME: 

TONIGHT!

June 2  @ 9:050 PM CST
 Radio: WGN 720

  VS   
 

 

CUBS SWEEP the Rockies!

FIRST PLACE CUBS 5

Rockies 3 

 

NEXT GAME: 

TONIGHT!

June 2  @ 9:050 PM CST
 Radio: WGN 720

  VS   
 

[tomkow6]

Today's FEEBLE

YOKE:

Two European nuns have just arrived in the USA by boat and one says to the other, "I hear that the people of this country actually eat dogs." 

"Odd," her companion replies, "but if we shall live in America, we might as well do as the Americans do." 
Nodding emphatically, the first nun points to a hot dog vendor and they both walk towards the cart. 

"Two dogs, please," says one. The vendor is only too pleased to oblige and he wraps both hot dogs in foil and hands them over the counter. Excited, the nuns hurry over to a bench and begin to unwrap their purchases. 

The first nun opens hers. She begins to blush and then, staring at it for a moment, leans over to the other nun and whispers cautiously, "What part did you get?"

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning, everyone!

On The Banks Of A Rocky Stream


BEHOLD an emblem of our human mind
Crowded with thoughts that need a settled home,
Yet, like to eddying balls of foam
Within this whirlpool, they each other chase
Round and round, and neither find
An outlet nor a resting-place!
Stranger, if such disquietude be thine,
Fall on thy knees and sue for help divine.


- William Wordsworth

[Soaring Feather]

Mernin' Tom!

[Soaring Feather]

I see your muse has taken on a whimsical face, thanks for the poem. Very clever!

[Soaring Feather]

My muses made that graphic fast and as I worked it I wondered why I don’t get inspired to make a wad of dough that easily.

The same thoughts cross my mind! LOL

[tomkow6]

‘bout time you got up!

[Soaring Feather]

Really?? Well, we have sun today, kinda pushes one out of the covers.

[SevenofNine]

Tomkow tell Acad Bo Diddley just died he was 78 year old according to Fox news wire

[Lady Jag]

The Gift of Writing

There is a word in every poem, one that is so hard to write, but if you can write one sentence more. Then the gift is yours to take wherever. It is a gift, to be able to write, and show what you can do. Some write a letter, and they think that's hard. Others write a note, which may seem easy. It is a gift when out comes a story, and from that story, becomes a book, A book that will go on, and on until you write another. Then you will never want to stop Writing is no talent it is a gift, a gift of creation, that only God can give. His greatest creation was Mother Earth, and too us his gift was love. The gift of writing came from him too. When he picked you out and placed the pen in your hand. . sylvia spencer

[MEG33]

Happy Monday To The Lair

The Genesis of the Butterfly by Victor Hugo

The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies

[Lady Jag]

Mother Superior called all the Nuns together one evening and said to them: "I must tell you all something. We have a case of Gonorrhea in the convent."

"Thank God," said an elderly Nun at the back. "I'm so sick of Chardonnay."

[Lady Jag]

"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud"

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed---and gazed---but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. William Wordsworth

[potlatch]

[potlatch]

Very nice LJ! Here is something that you and I can appreciate.

[Soaring Feather]

The Gift of Writing

What a fabulous find! I love that. Sometimes, I question if I can really write, or do I think I can write. Never know where the answer will come from. Thanks.

[Soaring Feather]

Lovely graphic, Potlatch, thank you.

[potlatch]

Thank you Meg, lovely as always. You might like this serene bubbling brook..