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Posted on 03/24/2005 8:35:29 PM PST by Soaring Feather
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Good evening, Ms. Feather...MUD
Good evening, Mud, thanks for stopping in.
I'll be back later...with a song...MUD
Here ya go!!
"More Than $2 Trillion!!"
(To be sung to Boston's "More Than a Feeling")
The LeftWing's in mourning 'cuz SlickWillie's gone...
RATS have no future...with Jean Kerry!!
Right votes fer Strength, not like Spain Done Wrong...
Still, our liberties are stripped away-ay-ay-ay!!
The RightWing needs FReepin'...(more than $2 Trillion!!)
When we hear Big Guv'ment's been holdin' sway (more than $2 Trillion!!)
RightWing needs FReepers (almost $3 Trillion!!)
'Til we see Big Guv'ment melt away...
We'll see our Liberties fadin' away!!
So many FReepers have come and gone...
Their mem'ry fades as the years go by.
Yet I still recall list'nin' ta Limbaugh...
Each year when we vote, Fed budget's too hi-i-igh!!
The RightWing needs FReepin'...(more than $2 Trillion!!)
Folks, I've heard Dem ol' excuses still today (more than $2 Trillion!!)
RightWing needs FReepin' (almost $3 Trillion!!)
'Til we see Big Guv'ment melt away...
High time that Conservatives win the day!!
(Guitar jammin' interlude)
When I'm tired and feelin' old...
I think about Reagan, who saved the day!!
And dream of the men who used to know...
If we close our eyes, FReedom'll slip away!!
DemRATS must pay!! Right must hold sway!!
The LeftWing is reelin'!! (more than $2 Trillion!!)
Folks, we've heard RAT's ol' songs they always play... (more than $2 Trillion!!)
The RightWing needs FReepin'...(almost $3 Trillion!!)
'Till we see KerryMan slink away...
We Shan't Let Slick Willie Git Away !!
Black XXV FReegards...MUD (03/17/2004)
Little bird, little bird
break free from your cage.
Cry not in despair
or scream out in rage.
But little bird, oh little bird
spread your wings, take flight
& free yourself from forever night.
That 2 Trillion number is bogus, sir...all that is really happening is that 2 Trillion less will be siphoned off by the Federal Guv'ment...the Two Trillion does not disappear, it is simply transferred to We the People!!
FReegards...MUD
| You Know The Drill Click the pics 
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Coffee & Donuts
Morning Mud.
Thanks for the song. A whole lot of our money gets spent doesn't it?
Hello Darkchylde!
Love the little poem. Thanks so much.
FReegards...MUD
Morning Sam,
Nice seeing the Duke in the Lair.
Old time favorite tunes this morning.
Thanks and have a great day.
Ollie was stopped by a game warden in Northern Wisconsin recently leaving a lake well known for its Walleye. He had tw buckets of fish.
As it was during the spawning season, the game warden asked, " Do you have a license to catch those fish?" Ole replied, "No, sir! Dese here are my pet fish."
"Pet fish?" the warden replied.
"Ya sure, you betcha." answered Ollie. "Every night I take dese fish here down to da lake and let dem svim around for a while. Den I vhistle and dey yump back into deir buckets and I take dem home."
"That's a bunch of hooey. Fish can't do that," said the game warden.
Ollie looked at the game warden with an expression of great hurt, and then said, "Yumpin Yimminy! Vell den, I'll yust show you den. It really does vork, don'tcha know?"
"O.K. I've got to see this!" The game warden was really curious now. So Ole poured the fish into the lake and stood waiting. After several minutes, the game warden turned to Ollie and said, "Well?"
"Vell what?" responded Ollie.
"When are you going to call them back?"
"Call who back?" asked Ollie.
"The fish!"
"What fish?"
LOL!!!! And to think that I never cared for fishing! LOL!!!
Happy Easter Bentfeather!
Happy Easter to you and family.
This is a very powerful and poignant poem.
Thank You.
ping for great poem.
HOPE YOU ENJOY --AND UNDERSTAND US OLD FOLK A BIT BETTER
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, the jiggly thighs, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 a.m. and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging midriff, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set. They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten - and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect. I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say "no", and mean it. I can say "yes", and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be.
And I shall eat dessert every single day!
Would you please correct this error?? Should read...XIX.
Sorry about that and thank you very much. bentfeather
"My Heart Is Heavy"
by Sarah Teasdale
My heart is heavy with many a song
Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree,
But I can never give you one --
My songs do not belong to me.
Yet in the evening, in the dusk
When moths go to and fro,
In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen,
Take it, no one will know.
"Oh Day of Fire and Sun"
by Sarah Teasdale
Oh day of fire and sun,
Pure as a naked flame,
Blue sea, blue sky and dun
Sands where he spoke my name;
Laughter and hearts so high
That the spirit flew off free,
Lifting into the sky
Diving into the sea;
Oh day of fire and sun
Like a crystal burning,
Slow days go one by one,
But you have no returning.
A Deep-Sworn Vow
by William Butler Yeats
OTHERS because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.
After Long Silence
by William Butler Yeats
Speech after long silence; it is right,
All other lovers being estranged or dead,
Unfriendly lamplight hid under its shade,
The curtains drawn upon unfriendly night,
That we descant and yet again descant
Upon the supreme theme of Art and Song:
Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; young
We loved each other and were ignorant.
I have been meaning to send to your website this point. It is my favorite poem of them all. It seems I need to put it there for others to see.
I sit beneath the moon's globe,
beneath the pines, beneath the stars,
laptop in my lap, but silence in my heart.
Good evening, Miss Feather!
Teasdale is incomparable. Happy Easter to you and yours. :)
Thank You for sharing this poem. I have not seen it until now. So powerful.
Good evening Colonel. Thank you for the Easter wishes. The same to you and yours.
Since you gave us Sarah I often read her.
I have the feeling I'm going to be reading quite a bit of Teasdale in the upcoming days. Thank you for the wonderful reminder of my Lair roots :)
When are we going to read a Colonel original again??
Sara is wonderful, but so are you!! :-)
(c) 03-25-05 by JSR
Well, aren't you nice .. let me see what I can do. :)
Post 41
Sarge, that's fabulous. :)
Thank you for the poems, Old Sarge. :-)
how many many things
they call to mind
these cherry blossoms
Basho
Good night everyone.
The quiet man sits silent by the window
His eye will ruthlessly see all around
And even though he wishes otherwise
This world cannot escape his sightless gaze.
He sees bare lies, dark motives seen as plain
Stark coldness of the world remains in view
Saddened now, he tries to look away
He knows that life must offer more than this.
Downtrodden heart, from where does hope arise?
To victory we know we all are born
But broken eyes and broken hearts agree
The road is long and never seems to end
He pays the check and wraps against the cold
But smiles despite the long and longer odds
To fight the fight is what will lead to triumph
A power even ruthless eyes will see.
3/25/05
Lovely absolutely lovely, both the graphic and the Haiku.
Thanks so much HopeandGlory.
Oh Colonel.
The quiet eyes ever see
the ruthless cruelty dealt
to the sea
of love and kindness
ever to be
the quiet eyes
that I see.
Fabulous, Miss Feather. My heart has been pretty heavy of late but finding my muse seems to help a bit :)
Writing is a good way to get things out
to the light of day where we can see
the snags and traps that stumble us
in the day.
A heavy heart a burden cold
carries harder when you're old
and sometimes when we're young
they be building blocks for a poets tree.
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