Amy's Place ... Poetry and Potpourri ... February, 2009

2-1-09 | JustAmy; St.Louie1; MamaBear; Billie

[JustAmy]

Welcome To....


'Amy's Place' welcomes all poets
and those who enjoy poetry.
'Amy's Place' is more than just about poetry.
Come in, relax, and share with fellow FReepers
your thoughts about any of the things on the *Menu*.

Enjoy! :)











Never Forget!





Bad Penny



Amy's personal guardian ~
the ever charming, lovable, huggable,
LouieWolf




Many thanks for stopping by. : )

[MEG33]

I just looked it up..We are 360 miles apart, LUV. I live in the heart of Texas...We need rain, too! I think all of Texas does.

[Lady Jag]

GeeBee, are you there?

With all this snow we're
going to have to start
wearing personal locators

[luvie]

Well, heck! In Texas, that’s not such a “fur” piece! :D I’ll bet where you live is very beautiful. It’s where I would LOVE to live!

[Lady Jag]

Dogs know that very well.

[ConorMacNessa]

Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

Lamh Foistenach Abu!

[Lady Jag]

Amy's amis!

[ConorMacNessa]

Fern Hill

by Dylan Thomas

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would
take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

Lamh Foistenach Abu!

[ConorMacNessa]

LAMENT

When I was a windy boy and a bit
and the black spit of the chapel fold
(cried the old ram rod, dying of women)
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw Sunday night's I wooed
whoever I would with my wicked eyes.
The whole of the moon I could love and leave
all the green-leaved little weddings wives
in the coal-black bush and let them grieve.

When I was a gusty man and a half
and the black beast of the beetles pews
(cried the old ram rod, dying of bitches)
not a boy and a bit in the wick --
Dipping moon and drunk as a new dropped calf,
I whistled all night in the twisted flues,
Midwives grew in the midnight ditches,
And the sizzling sheets of the town cried, Quick!
-- Whenever I dove in a breast high shoal,
Wherever I ramped in the clover quilts,
Whatsoever I did in the coal --
Black night, I left my quivering prints.

When I was a man you could call a man
And the black cross of the holy house,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of welcome),
Brandy and ripe in my bright, bass prime,
No springtailed tom in the red hot town
With every simmering woman his mouse
But a hillocky bull in the swelter
Of summer come in his great good time
To the sultry, biding herds, I said,
Oh, time enough when the blood runs cold,
And I lie down but to sleep in bed,
For my sulking, skulking, coal-black soul!

When I was half the man I was
And serve me right as the preachers warn,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of downfall),
No flailing calf or cat in a flame
Or hickory bull in milky grass
But a black sheep with a crumpled horn,
At last the soul from its foul mousehole
Slunk pouting out when the limp time came;
And I gave my soul a blind, slashed eye,
Gristle and rind, and a roarers' life,
And I shoved it into the coal black sky
To find a woman's soul for a wife.

Now I am a man no more no more
And a black reward for a roaring life,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of strangers),
Tidy and cursed in my dove cooed room
I lie down thin and hear the good bells jaw --
For, oh, my soul found a sunday wife
In the coal black sky and she bore angels!
Harpies around me out of her womb!
Chastity prays for me, piety sings,
Innocence sweetens my last black breath,
Modesty hides my thighs in her wings,
And all the deadly virtues plague my death!

Dylan Thomas

Lamh Foistenach Abu!

[yorkie]

Thank you Conor! Here is a virtual clip of Dylan Thomas, reading these very words:

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6IP9znGlAw

[StarfireIV]

A few weeks into off-campus housing
The middle of the week in a season growing colder
I get a call from an old friend in the dorms
"They are making me get rid of Milo tonight"
Milo was his pet boa
"OK, bring 'em here" my reply
He brought the tank and told me to treat him
as if he were mine

So I did
He spent many of the mornings lounging on my shoulders
Tail over my left, head on my right
feeding on the warmth of the back of my neck

four foot boas are not hard to manage
They are hardy, and require little
save for the occaisional mouse
and cage cleaning
The one thing they do need is warmth
Anyone who has ever picked one up from a cold morning
is surprised how a lethargic serpent
seems to coil around their arm so quickly

Warm WARM, I am getting warm, ahhhhh
This is all that is really going on, well
at least until you forget that one is ox-bowed around your neck
as I did the day when I walked into a rented home
of a few girls I had known from church
Seems I had forgotten on important little detail
The shrieks that ensued were an amusing reminder
of the day I forgot I was wearing a boa
A LIVE one

[JustAmy]

Good morning/afternoon everyone!!
I'm really not amis. LOL
I'm not even taking my leisurely Saturday Night bath. : ^ )
I'm trying to finish paperwork and really, really need to spend time on my house.

Hope eveyone is enjoying Caturday.
We are going to have another warm springlike day.
JustJr is here with his pesky kitten.
She runs thru the house, jumping upon , over and under everything.
A couple of weeks ago, I moved stuff off and put it in the curio cabinet.
Already picked up planter dirt after she overturned that.
She loves to come and play with Marissa.

I'll be back later. Have a great day.

[luvie]

Howdy, Amy! Sounds like you are gonna be busy. Have a great weekend!

[ConorMacNessa]

Thanks for the clip, yorkie!

Lamh Foistenach Abu!

[pollywog]

oh my goodness!! I remember Toni Home Permanents...and all those smelly cute rollers/w papers! Always seemed to leave my hair stubby for a month! Evening in Paris!!!! My oh MY ... Memories today!

Polly

[pollywog]

so cute!!! LOLOL.... love these kittens.

[MEG33]

Hope your spring comes soon!

[MEG33]

LOL..My baddest cat Rahki just got a “timeout” from my bedroom..for jumping onto everything,
After awhile she forgets that jumping on the dresser and chest was her obsession and so she is on to other pursuits.
I no longer have houseplants..
;o)

[JustAmy]

LOL

I think that Cissy makes up for being alone during the week when JustJr is working all day.

He put masking tape on a couple of things to keep her off. He said she did not like it sticking to her and then following her everywhere she went.

I may need to cover my house in masking tape. :)

[MEG33]

I do like living here.

[JustAmy]

Seems that the past couple of weeks have been busy.

Lots going on at the Just household plus I need to finish up some year-end paperwork.

I’ve also been trying to get a couple of posts ready for next week. Poor Billie; I’ve had her jumping with my special requests. :^)