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~The Dragon Flies' Lair~Thread~XXII
August 28, 2005 | bentfeather/The Poets of the Lair

Posted on 08/28/2005 2:26:23 AM PDT 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©





TOPICS: Poetry
KEYWORDS: classicpoetry; freespirits; haiku; humor; laughter; melody; music; musiclyrics; originalpoetry; soulfest
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To: WayzataJOHNN; All
Inside His Contest

Icy unforgiving embrace

a broken desire

inside, his contest to

earth's edge

pales the heart's

journey to her.

bentfeather


21 posted on 08/29/2005 10:12:44 AM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: bentfeather; HopeandGlory

Good morning... (yawn, stretch...West coast time ... Monday)

The last report I saw on Katrina was she might not hit land as hard as feared ... but a fierce storm all the same.


22 posted on 08/29/2005 10:21:55 AM PDT by La Enchiladita (Remembering our Heroes today and every day. . . "Operation Gratitude")
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To: La Enchiladita

Good morning, your time. It's 1:30 pm here, EDT.

Yes, a fierce storm, indeed. We can hope Katrina has spent most of her wrath. Prayers up for those in her path.


23 posted on 08/29/2005 10:35:09 AM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: bentfeather
No poetry here....just a bit of Monday cheer! lol

Good day Ms. Feather!


24 posted on 08/29/2005 11:21:40 AM PDT by AZamericonnie (~ www.ProudPatriots.org ~Operation Semper Fi ~a field hospital~)
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To: AZamericonnie

Howdy Connie. Nice to see ya!!


25 posted on 08/29/2005 11:28:51 AM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: WayzataJOHNN; HopeandGlory; laurenmarlowe; All
The Old Man's Garden

The old man's garden and my back yard
are divided by a line fence.

Each Spring he plants onions, sweet peas
and green beans. When they are done yielding
their crop he pulls them and composts them in the row.

Next come the tomatoes and the black berries.
The birds beat him to the berries every year.
His grapevine needs pruning, but you see
his cataract covered eyes cannot see to prune.
And he is ninety two now, and can't string the
mesh up to protect the grapes from the birds
and squirrels.

We chat across the fence each spring,
he complains about he oak tree poisoning
his soil and casting shade on his garden.

I listen and nod my head
he said, one day to me,
"oh it's you, someone told me you were dead."


bentfeather
26 posted on 08/29/2005 7:41:42 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: bentfeather

Oh Ms. Feather, what a lovely story! Poor, sweet Old Man.

I wonder how many years he has been planting that same garden each Spring?

I'm certainly glad you're still here to tell the story!


27 posted on 08/29/2005 7:57:26 PM PDT by laurenmarlowe
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To: laurenmarlowe
He has lived in his house for over 60 years, raised his kids there. He is a retired Post Office employee. His wife is still alive and drives their car to get groceries. She taught piano in her home. I know some of her students.

They are very independent.
Actually that is one of two gardens he plants. He sets out frames in Feb to get things going. He is out working everyday for short periods of time. Amazing folks. Mows his own lawn too, with a gas mower.
28 posted on 08/29/2005 8:11:51 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: bentfeather

Truly a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing! They have led a good, honest life. I hope I can be so fortunate.


29 posted on 08/29/2005 8:19:40 PM PDT by laurenmarlowe
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To: All

I went into my bed
my body told me I was tired
but sleep eluded me
my thoughts turned to you

I closed my eyes
and met you in the stars

bentfeather





I held night
saw it sparkle
twilight arrived with
your face carved
across my dawn
holding the essence of you
in my bones...

bentfeather
06.06.04


30 posted on 08/29/2005 8:46:38 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: bentfeather; everyone


Gardening still at Ninety two,
and still going strong,
prefering to wear out, not rust, that
surely can't be wrong.

His life still has purpose,
even tho' eyes are dim,
his garden's still important to him,
tho' his vines he cannot trim.

Visiting with neighbours,
are some of lifes true joys,
sharing Gods bounty across the fence,
our faith in men doth restore.

rim 8/29/05


Good evening Miss Feather . . .I really enjoyed your story and it has inspired this poem in return.

Goodnight everyone . . .see you tomorrow.


31 posted on 08/29/2005 9:10:00 PM PDT by HopeandGlory (Hey, Liberals . . . PC died on 9/11 . . . GET USED TO IT!!!)
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To: bentfeather

Setting the Stage

The Beggars Wind comes on cats paws,
and the year seems to race into the golden time.
Every tree will soon surrender to autumn’s laws,
and nature fits the world to her ancient rhyme.

Nights grow slowly clearer and mists are dearer,
and clouds race the moon across an ebon sky.
Nights are changing time becoming ever crisper,
and hints of gold and red highlight the leaves that die.

Trees rustle in near silent speech, to talk of passing time,
and wind song sings of things lost or gone beyond.
Seasons and life garbs itself in a new cloth of mime,
and we watch life’s new act upon our stage so fond.


32 posted on 08/29/2005 10:21:59 PM PDT by WayzataJOHNN
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To: bentfeather

In Appreciation

As soft as gossamer I caress her cheek
so as not to wake her from her sleep.
I watch her at rest, and see the things I seek,
and my heart surges forth in a lover’s leap.

Her rising breast rhythmically fills with airy life,
her cheeks flushed with a dream’s emotions sweet.
Her long lashes flicker in sleep, as dreams run rife,
and I watch them, passing across her face so fleet.

Her lips pout in some memory, and she smiles,
and I grin, for I know I was there to hold and share.
Her alabaster skin glows, her hair a golden pile,
and I lay silent and watch her, my living art, with care.


33 posted on 08/29/2005 10:34:52 PM PDT by WayzataJOHNN
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To: HopeandGlory; WayzataJOHNN; All

Lovely treasures left in the air
I left early to enjoy the wet, night air
it rained here tonight-what a joy
it's been many months without water
soaking the ground or filling the air.

Many little gems of joy
the Lair poets post for all to soak up

grateful we are the Lair does not dry up
her many wells are still untapped
a hidden ground swell reserve
our poets save time for us in words.


34 posted on 08/30/2005 4:45:07 AM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: La Enchiladita; AZamericonnie; SouthernHawk; Jet Jaguar; Texas Songwriter; laurenmarlowe; ...

Good morning everyone.

35 posted on 08/30/2005 4:49:20 AM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: bentfeather

That was quite the punchline..!! There's nothing like sharing the joys and tribulations of gardening. I'm so glad he can still garden at 92! Thanks, feathery one.


36 posted on 08/30/2005 12:09:28 PM PDT by La Enchiladita (Remembering Our Heroes, Today and Everyday ... "Operation Gratitude")
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To: HopeandGlory

What a perfect response, Hope and Glory!


37 posted on 08/30/2005 12:10:29 PM PDT by La Enchiladita (Remembering Our Heroes, Today and Everyday ... "Operation Gratitude")
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To: bentfeather; HopeandGlory; laurenmarlowe; WayzataJOHNN

This is one of my favorite poems and fits today's theme:

THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE
By William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear the water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

1892


38 posted on 08/30/2005 12:21:15 PM PDT by La Enchiladita (Remembering Our Heroes, Today and Everyday ... "Operation Gratitude")
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To: La Enchiladita
Hello!

Excellent choice today. This poem is a favorite of mine also.

Thank you.

39 posted on 08/30/2005 2:49:56 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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To: All
America

The silence is deafening the world around
once again the United States alone
Our Gulf States, torn and broken down
levees broken, water over taking.

We hear not a word from the world
we serve, no aide forth coming, no,
not a word.

A tsunami, of silence gathers round
the purse of the nations slam closed
to our needs, News Orleans floating,
no water to drink, no homes for it's people
no food to eat.

And we hear silence from the world around
not a word do we hear..hold on America
we are here, we are coming to help
your soaking states dry out, here's some
food for your souls, here have some dry clothes.

We'll help you in your time of need, no sir
there is no such a word...
America we stand alone.


bentfeather


40 posted on 08/30/2005 4:06:57 PM PDT by Soaring Feather (Two Years of Poetry...)
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