~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread XVI~

November 6, 2004 | bentfeather and Poets of the Lair

[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©

[Darksheare]

*pounding forehead against monitor*
I should know this, and I can't think of the answer!

[Soaring Feather]

Oh don't do that!! LOL

It will come to you.

[Darksheare]

No dice.
M'mind ran off with the mice.

[Soaring Feather]

Okay here you go!


"Man, unlike any other thing organic or inorganic in the
universe, grows beyond his work, walks up the stairs of
his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments."

ANSWER: John Steinbeck (1902 - 1968), The Grapes of Wrath (1939)

[Soaring Feather]

Good morning everyone.

[SAMWolf]

Good Morning Everybody.

You Know The Drill
Click the pics

Coffee & Donuts

[SAMWolf]

The Dogs of Sleep



Translated from the Spanish by H. E. Francis

It is night that drives
its dogs to bark,
that to their jaws grants
no repose.

Howls lap the pane
of the window of sleep.

Howls spatter
their poison over my agitation.

And my sleep no longer desires more night,
its banners summon forth the dawn,
blankets adorned with a thousand flowers,
sudden spring, delight
of flint breaking against flint,
exaltation of very old voices.

And what the dogs howl,
the slime on their tongues, their agony,
night will silence,
deadened in my blackest lights.

Emiliano De Lucas

[Soaring Feather]

Morning Sam.

I really like this poem "The Dogs of Sleep."

Thanks much for everything. :-)

[Colonel_Flagg]

Good morning, Lair!

THE BRACELET TO JULIA
Robert Herrick

Julia, this my silken twist?
For what other reason is't,
But to shew thee how in part
Thou my pretty captive art?
But thy bond-slave is my heart;
'Tis but silk that bindeth thee,
Knap the thread and thou art free;
But 'tis otherwise with me;
I am bound, and fast bound so,
That from thee I cannot go;
If I could, I would not so.

[Soaring Feather]

I cannot leave
I cannot go
my soul is bound
to thee I know
tho miles are great
and mountains high
in the night I do cry
for the comfort of your love
and the heat of your warmth
the charm of you in day
is kept from me and I do sway
from the loneness in my skin
in the night I hear the wild wind
like a ghost on the prowl
there is a hollow all around
when not a word of you is heard
but the dread night sounds
all around and an ache in my soul
that you could take and make it whole
I cannot leave
I cannot go...

bentfeather
11/10/04

[Colonel_Flagg]

Feather, that's wonderful work .. good morning to you and thanks for sharing your talent :)

[Soaring Feather]

I was inspired by the poem you posted. THANK YOU.

[Soaring Feather]

The Old Marine

The old Marine marched
in parades
on Memorial Day
The Fourth of July
and Veteran's Day
In heat, in rain, in pain, he went,
held formation, moved his feet high
when the drum did roll,
walked like a Marine,
talked like a Marine,
until... the day he died.

He was proud he served his country well
taking shrapnel on one campaign, always
living with the pain
rarely ever did he complain
when on his knees he
would crawl...the pain
too, much for him to stand tall.

Jaw squared, head high, march the steps
carry the rifle, salute the flag
every mindful he was a Marine.

In his casket he did lay
in full dress that sad day
his uniform pressed and sharp
this Marine did depart
to a far better land he did go
in fields of flowers he will stroll,
meet his mother, and receive
his well done son,
you where a Good Marine.

bentfeather
11/10/04

Happy Birthday United States Marines!

[Soaring Feather]

every=ever mindful...

[NicknamedBob]

A Weeping of Stones

This is where the love went, that sang from youthful eyes,
Into the stone which weeps its tears, when joined by weeping skies.
The stone now shouts its lie out, the pain from metal blade,
Here lies the symbol of a love. Here’s where the pain has stayed.

The sculptor had an artful eye, and caught the loving glance.
He froze it with a chilling spell, and sundered love’s last chance.
Though art could capture what he saw, his heart was dead to sight,
In carving out a lover’s stare, he closed off loving’s light.

The girl has gone now, her reward, unknown to all of us,
How sad that this reminder then, becomes a warning thus,
Look out upon the world and see the wonder that is there,
But do not close your eye to love, and do not lose your share.

The sculptor died alone, they said, a sad and lonely man,
Who could have found fond happiness, as any of us can.
His fame did not provide for him the pleasures that he’d planned.
But I have seen a face like hers on children of this land.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . November 10, 2004

[Soaring Feather]

Oh my, Bob, this is absolutely beautiful. Thank you.

[NicknamedBob]

Thanks, Miss Feather,

It's Darkchylde's fault.

[Soaring Feather]

Oh, Darkchylde's fault?? How's that?? Well, it was a wonderful inspiration whatever it was. :-)

[Darkchylde]

I didn't do anything. I was simply mumbling to
a garden fixture when a voice responded to me.

[Soaring Feather]

Bob heard you mumble?? LOL I know you're listening to those gnomes again aren't you??