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and thumps about things which the intellect scorns :-)
Mark Twain
southern magnolia, j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, Raleigh, north carolina
And thus, through all of her strife, and pain, and loss, and misery and woe. And thus a woman scorned. And thus a woman done with it all... a villain was born. A Venefica.
A desire scorned and neglected is an enemy lying in wait with bared dagger.
~Abraham Miller
NO GROUP AWARDS
The Sunset, Woven of Soft Lights
by Katharine Lee Bates
The sunset, woven of soft lights
And tender colors, lingers late,
As looking back on all day's dreary plights,
Compassionate;
— The foolish day of hopes so high,
Who counts her hours by blunders now,
Yet wears at last this jewel-crown of sky
Upon her brow.
Out to eternity she goes,
Not for her failure scorned, but see!
Our poor day flushed with beauty, one more rose
On God's rose-tree.
Imponente opera architettonica d'epoca romana, il ponte fu eretto sul Marecchia per decreto dell'Imperatore Augusto ed il suo compimento si deve al successore Tiberio (14 - 21 d.C.) come ricorda l'iscrizione che corre sui parapetti interni.
Il ponte segna l'inizio della via Emilia e si trova all'estremità della principale via storica della città (corso d'Augusto). Dal 1885 il ponte di Tiberio è monumento nazionale.
E' costruito interamente in pietra d'Istria, a cinque arcate, in stile dorico e rappresenta uno dei più notevoli ponti romani superstiti ancora oggi utilizzato dal traffico urbano; documento importante della sapienza tecnica dei Romani è testimoniato dalle fondamenta dei singoli piloni che non sono disgiunti gli uni dagli altri ma formano un'unica fondazione, tale da assicurare la stabilità più completa. La struttura del ponte poggia infatti su un funzionale sistema di pali di legno, perfettamente isolati. Inoltre i piloni sono muniti di speroni frangiflutti, impostati obliquamente rispetto all’asse del ponte, in modo da assecondare la corrente del fiume e riducendone la forza d’urto.
La solidità del Ponte di Tiberio ha sempre destato grande meraviglia, fino a creare la leggenda del “ponte del diavolo”, legata al mito di indistruttibilità di cui nei secoli il Ponte di Tiberio si è fatto scudo.
La Leggenda
Ci vollero ben sette anni, con non poche difficoltà, per portare a termine la costruzione del ponte. Ogni qual volta che si costruiva un nuovo pezzo crollava. Tiberio pregò tutti gli dei, ma invano, così fece un patto col diavolo: satana avrebbe costruito il ponte ma in cambio si sarebbe preso l'anima del primo che lo attraversava. All'imperatore non rimase che accettare e il diavolo si mise subito all'opera. Il ponte fu costruito nel giro di una notte; bello, solido e imponente, stava lì, ad aspettare che lo si attraversasse. Venne il momento dell'inaugurazione e il corteo ufficiale era pronto per la parata quando all'imperatore venne in mente come liberarsi di quello scomodo patto col diavolo. Tiberio ordinò che, in segno propiziatorio, prima di tutti, sul nuovo ponte, dovesse passare un cane. Così fu fatto e il diavolo, che aspettava la sua anima sull'altra sponda del ponte, rimase a bocca asciutta. Satana, schiumante di collera per essere stato buggerato così malamente, decise di vendicarsi all'istante e buttare giù il ponte di Tiberio. Calciò più volte con ira sulla pietra da lui posata, ma niente da fare. L'aveva costruito indistruttibile e nemmeno lui poteva distruggerlo. Così se ne dovette andare... a mani vuote (scornato). Quasi a testimonianza di questo episodio rimangono alcune impronte caprine impresse su di una delle grosse pietre poste all'inizio del ponte sul lato che guarda la città.
Fonte: redazione locale Rimini
I thought I could identify any Michigan resident duck, or migrant that passes through our region. But this duck and three apparent females that traveled with him stumped me.
A lot of bird "experts" converge on Magee Marsh during Spring migration, so I asked several of them to help ID this bird. Their answers were imaginative and ...well, inconclusive.
Some of their answers: "It's a freak of Nature," "It's a 10 cent Mallard", "Domestic ducks,escaped from home", "It's hybrid of unknown origin", "I don't know, ask the guy with the big camera". (He didn't know either.)
I assume it was a domesticated, hybrid duck that resembles a Mallard in size and shape. (He must have decided to join the migrants). :-))
Note: Thank you Daren Rose for identifying this duck as a "Campbell Duck".
Who is she?
www.godchecker.com/pantheon/celtic-mythology.php?deity=MO...
* Pose by .Mishka.
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Head Piece: Chrysallis Crow Piece
Collar: Sinistyle Raven Collar
* Post Processed - Yes
* ReShade - No
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Sitting regally on a glacial erratic of pink granite, the ground squirrel looked so good that I had to stop for a shot. Nice soft light. To spend any time photographing them is to invite all kinds of scorn from some of the locals, who can see no reason whatsoever for taking a picture of their nemesis rodent. The "gopher" that digs holes in their pastures and dams. To summarize, "They're not real popular around here."
So it goes. We humans tend to vilify any wildlife species that finds itself in direct competition with us. I knew an old woman who would swerve on the local roads to intentionally run over ground squirrels, while doing the same to avoid hitting rattlesnakes.
But without Richardson's Ground Squirrels, we wouldn't have any Ferruginous Hawks; their diet is comprised almost exclusively of these rodents. They feed a lot of coyotes, badgers, owls, eagles, weasels, foxes, and other predators, too. A keystone species, you might say.
I feel no need to explain myself to the incredulous or to those merely lacking imagination. I'm interested in anything with fur, feathers, or scales. Admittedly, these guys aren't very high on my want list, because they are so common and relatively easy to photograph. Nevertheless, if it is willing to pose for me so nicely, I'll take the shot!
Photographed along the access road to Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2025 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
.../
Sea-birds shall wend to thee,
Winged lilies lend to thee
Some of their fragrance;
List to their whisper low,
Gulls white as drift of snow.
Fearing nor friend nor foe,
Birds of brave vagrance.
They shall my message bring,
They of unwearied wing,
Scorn not thy offering,
Daughter of Viking:
WhUe I, in this new world,
I, as in vortex whirled,
By fate or chance am hurled,
My fortune seeking.
Art thou a phantom proud,
Spirit of storm and cloud,
Never to mortal vowed,
Never troth-plighted?
Wear'st no ring of gold
From Lade's temple old,
Ring of King Olaf bold,
Jewel love-lighted.
.../
Isadore Baker
almeno un milione di scale
e ora che non ci sei è il vuoto ad ogni gradino.
Anche così è stato breve il nostro lungo viaggio.
Il mio dura tuttora, né più mi occorrono
le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,
le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede
che la realtà sia quella che si vede.
**
(..)
"A wise and ancient scorner
Said to me once: beware
The road that has no corner
Where you can linger and stare.
Choose the square.
‘And let the circle run
Its dull and fevered race. "
(..)
Edwin Muir, Scottish poet (1887-1959)
*
(Own work)
There was a jaded dragon who lived in a deep prision of his own making. He spoke of freedom, yet surrounded himself in a consuming fire of aimlessness. He enjoyed his flights of fancy through the woods going from tree to tree and would call it "taking flight", even though each tree would ultimately get scorched.
The dragon's heart was tender however, yet shielded. He guarded it. It had been wounded long ago before time had meaning. Then it was scorned and he hadn't healed or allowed himself to heal from these delicate and deep wounds. Shadows were meant for healing not hiding.
Introspection was a diffucult task and took time and effort. It was a painful process. Sometimes, stuborness would keep him from doing what he really needed to do; humble himself enough to not only hear his direction, but to obey. He knew he was meant for so much more. His Fire was meant for so much more.
His fire was not only desire, it was inspiration itself!
"Leave the old dragon frozen." he would hear, "Wake up and remember!" "Let yourslef become something new so you can take flight in the right direction." "Feel the Heat of real freedom and a renewed passion for life."
Even though winter was approaching, this new fire was transformative and began to dethaw his brokeness. He finally started to calm himslef deep inside and he stopped running aimlessly. Fear had kept him away from things that were important.
Fear is the real enemy. It had kept his heart frozen in time and no tree would or could make him happy.
Now, time is his friend if he so chooses.
Thank you all for the kind favs and comments. This is a double image taken on adventure last year with a free and wild soul. Let your spirit fly free today as we appreciate what we have and have hope for a better tomorrow.
A la bonne saison, je traine mes guêtres au bord des petites rivières et souvent dans des villages Pyrénéens un peu à fond de vallée. Le pittoresque de ces villages, c’est cette pierre honni-présente. Authenticité est au rendez-vous dans ce petit village Ariègeois. L’air y est si agréable et la vie aussi. Je vis cet instant présent avec bonheur et admiration. Alors, voilà un petit peu de bonheur que je partage ave vous.
En la temporada adecuada, arrastro mis polainas hasta el borde de pequeños ríos y, a menudo, en las aldeas pirenaicas un poco al fondo del valle. Lo pintoresco de estos pueblos es esta piedra de desprecio. La autenticidad está en la cita en este pequeño pueblo de Ariège. El aire es muy agradable y también lo es la vida. Vivo este momento presente con felicidad y admiración. Así que aquí hay un poco de felicidad que comparto con ustedes.
In the right season, I drag my gaiters along the rivers and often in Pyrenean villages a little valley bottom. The picturesque of these villages is this scorn stone. Authenticity is at the rendezvous in this small Ariège village. The air is so nice and so is life. I live this present moment with happiness and admiration. So here's a little bit of happiness that I share with you.
Obviously, we can never sneer at the stars, mock the dawn, or scoff at the totality of being. Sublime grandeur evokes unhesitating, unflinching awe. Away from the immense, cloistered in our own concepts, we may scorn and revile everything. But standing between earth and sky, we are silenced by the sight….
--Thunder in the Soul To Be Known by God, Abraham Joshua Heschel
A strong woman is one who feels deeply and loves fiercely. Her tears flow as abundantly as her laughter. A strong woman is both soft and powerful, she is both practical and spiritual. A strong woman in her essence is a gift to the world.
Hey you... Yes you.
If you do not like me for who I am... If you have expectations that I will be who you want me to be then find someone who can fit your tee. I hope you will find her if ever there is even one existing. I hope both of you will be happier and I hope she is not like me or will become to be like me... A busy normal person in real life having a lot on her one plate and has tried so hard to find time for you because of your complaints that I always make you feel alone. But actually you are not alone... Revelation after revelation unfolded right in front of me and these are hard to believe truths... painful ones. Now, your friend (as you insisted) spilled also all the beans very specifically. So do you expect me to just smile and take that? Swallow my pride and stay again even as your friend? You even blamed me that it is my fault why you did such things. It is true, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"... But smart women know their limits and so do I. Healing comes after some time and the most important thing is to start. And yes today, I will start.
Your spell over me is now broken... Today I say, enough is enough... Damage is already done in both worlds I just want my PEACE and I forgive you (but don't forget) because you do not know what you are doing, I hope.
I am grateful for the good times, the intellectual conversations. and some knowledge learned from you.
But I hope you are also thankful for all the help I extended to you that somehow made your life easy.
Stop saying lies about me to win hearts and sympathy just like what you did with your past exes, you bad-mouthing them to me and to all the other women you meet.
Case closed.
Long ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, “Come and play with me!”
But my eyes were fixed on a far-off height
I was fain to climb before the night;
So, half-impatient, I answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play.”
Long, long after, in Autumn time—
My limbs were grown too old to climb—
I passed a child on a pleasant lea,
And I called to her, “Come and play with me!”
But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book;
And scarce she lifted a wondering look,
As with childish scorn she answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play!”
~Francis William Bourdillon
Upon the Heights
Yone Noguchi - 1875-1947
And victor of life and silence,
I stood upon the Heights; triumphant,
With upturned eyes, I stood,
And smiled unto the sun, and sang
A beautifully sad farewell unto the dying day.
And my thoughts and the eve gathered
Their serpentine mysteries around me,
My thoughts like alien breezes,
The eve like a fragrant legend.
My feeling was that I stood as one
Serenely poised for flight, as a muse
Of golden melody and lofty grace.
Yea, I stood as one scorning the swords
And wanton menace of the cities.
The sun had heavily sunk into the seas beyond,
And left me a tempting sweet and twilight.
The eve with trailing shadows westward
Swept on, and the lengthened shadows of trees
Disappeared: how silently the songs of silence
Steal into my soul! And still I stood
Among the crickets, in the beauteous profundity
Sung by stars; and I saw me
Softly melted into the eve. The moon
Slowly rose: my shadow on the ground
Dreamily began a dreamy roam,
And I upward smiled silent welcome.
took too much time at lovely CK's Corner Gallery - coffee is cold @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sunstream/230/8/44
foundation:
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Face:[theSkinnery] Kelly (LeLutkaEVOX) @ C88
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♡
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accessories:
Earrings: (Yummy) Chandelier Curated Earrings
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cheezu. lucia dress
**U T O P I A @ D e s i g n** - "GENEVIEVE" @ FaMESHed
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Hexed - Rawwr Face Tattoo EvoX Unisex
Fresh , mid or faded
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Coming to Sabbath Event 21st May
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8 under eye colours to pick from
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10 Designs to pick from. Dark , medium and light options for either left or right
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/GAELINE%20CREATIONS/36/52/29 GA.EG Mainstore
Well it’s November on Saturday and I am still picking flowers from the garden most days. These are mainly dahlias, which I rather scorned in the past. Mind you I only like the ones with relatively simple flowers such as this one a real favourite of mine, the Bishop of Llandaff it brightens even the gloomiest autumn morning.
THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT AND FOR TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE A COMMENT IT’S MUCH APPRECIATED.
IF YOU WANT TO FOLLOW MY STREAM I SUGGEST YOU OUGHT TO READ MY PROFILE FIRST
Message me for Patagonia Fjords boat details - I have 2-3 spots left. Or visit the website.
Sometimes we travel into the unknown, fear strikes our hearts, and rather than scorn we receive the gifts of nature. A splendor so magnificent it resonates and permeates in our ephemeral memory banks. Upon arrival at this sacred location, "The Wave" in the Arizona desert, a few drops of rain started pelting the ground. As anyone who's traveled in monsoon season knows, this moment struck the fear of life and death itself into my heart. Being in the desert in a lighting storm offers no protection. I was fortunate this day and uncalled. As soon as the rain started it finished. Fortunately, during the evening these storms typically dissipate. A so began a new cycle of disintegration and rebuilding of storm clouds.
Woburn Abbey in the village of Woburn, Bedfordshire, England, is a country house and the family seat of the Duke of Bedford. No, this isn't the house. This shabby little building is just one of the Duke's stable blocks (although I don't know whether horses get near it these days). The grounds are an amazing deer park and adjacent land is the Woburn Safari Park. Asked about the unfavourable comments by other aristocrats when he turned the family home into a safari park, the 13th Duke said, "I do not relish the scorn of the peerage, but it is better to be looked down on than overlooked."
having a hot coffee break at lovely CK's Corner Gallery @ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sunstream/230/8/44
SCORN
Otis_Inf's Universal Unreal engine 4 Unlocker | *ini tweaks | Reshade 5 | Hotsampling
Feel free to visit my VOLUME ONE account.
Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree --
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most contantly?
The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who wil call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.
- Emily Brontë
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Top: BELIEVE
Upon the snow, I stand aloof,
A sovereign clad in feathered proof.
You tread this white, a clumsy guest,
While I, the lord, survey the rest.
My glance, a scornful, chilling fire,
Dismisses all your futile ire.
Look back, beneath my frozen crown—
Your footsteps fade; I wear the crown.
A monarch of the winter’s court,
In silent scorn, I hold my fort.
Bow low, intruder, and beware—
This frozen realm belongs to heir.
MJH, 2025
OK ... confession time. I asked ChatGPT to "write a poem with a haughty and contemptuous tone about a ruffed grouse in the snow looking back at me" and that is what it came up with. I am simultaneously impressed, amazed and a little terrified at what AI can do. I must add that my other photos with poems that accompany written by my very talented niece or by me are real and written by us with no help from any artificial intelligence. :)
- Keefer Lake, Ontario, Canada -
"I am the spring, the holy ground
The endless seed of mystery
The thorn, the veil, the face of grace
Brazen image, the thief of sleep
The ambassador of dreams, Prince of peace
I am the sword, the wound, the stain
Scorned, transfigured child of Cain
I rend, I end, I return
Again, I am the salt, the bitter laugh
I am the gas in a womb of light, the evening star
The ball of sight that bleeds that sheds the tears of Christ
Dying and drying as I rise tonight"...
Patti Smith Group / Easter...
...nè più mi occorrono
le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,
le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede
che la realtà sia quella che si vede.
(Eugenio Montale)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lxs3oAoQbc
Nothing more frightening than a woman scorned
And a box of bleach
You said I'd never change, I bet you never thought
I'd go so extreme
I lost a couple of inches and then a couple more
Starting with you and every single thing you said to me
Baby if you thought I was trouble
Then you're gonna hate what's coming next
Kinda like your worst nightmare but double
This Ring-necked Pheasant, aka "ditch parrot", paused while scurrying through - you guessed it, a ditch - long enough for me to squeeze off one good frame (and two or three bad ones). Because it is a popular game bird, this introduced species seems to attract less scorn than other non-native species, even though it does have some bad habits. In addition to competing with native birds - grouse, prairie chickens - the female pheasant sometimes lays its eggs in a different species' nest. Male pheasants raised by prairie chickens can imprint the wrong species and end up sexually confused, reportedly chasing away male prairie chickens and trying to mate with the females. Luckily there are no prairie chickens in my area, and the ditch parrots seem to know which species they belong to.
Photographed near Val Marie, Saskatchewan. Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2020 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
.
♫ Down the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem that day
The soldiers tried to clear the narrow street
But the crowd pressed in to see
A Man condemned to die on Calvary
He was bleeding
from a beating, there were stripes upon His back
And He wore a crown of thorns upon His head
And He bore with every step
The scorn of those who cried out for His death
Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering
Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King,
But He chose to walk that road out of His love
For you and me.
Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary. ♫
" Verdadeiramente ele tomou sobre si as nossas enfermidades, e as nossas dores levou sobre si; e nós o reputávamos por aflito, ferido de Deus, e oprimido.
Mas ele foi ferido por causa das nossas transgressões, e moído por causa das nossas iniqüidades; o castigo que nos traz a paz estava sobre ele, e pelas suas pisaduras fomos sarados" Isaías 53: 4-5
.
Foto: Cristo Redentor - Corcovado- Rio de Janeiro
Video Serie Páscoa (Easter): ♪ Via Dolorosa ♪ - Sandi Patty
Conforme a Lei 9.610/98, é proibida a reprodução total ou parcial ou divulgação comercial ou não sem a autorização prévia e expressa do autor (artigo 29). ® Todos os direitos reservados.
According to Law 9.610/98, it is prohibited the partial or total commercial reproduction without the previous written authorization of the author (article 29). ® All rights are reserved.
CIMG1242.2 Pompeii 2006
A thermopolium (pural thermopolia) was an ancient Rome structure where it was possible to purchase ready-to-eat food. The forerunner of today's restaurant, The items served at the thermopoliums are sometimes compared to modern fast-food. These places were mainly used by the poor or those who simply could not afford a private kitchen, sometimes leading them to be scorned by the upper class. (Wikipedia)