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#SundayFundayChallenge
Visit this location at Adored ~ For Bambi in Second Life
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrutzRWXkKs
Nature's Decor
Amid the placidity of an ocean sunset,
beneath the lavender-pink cumuli;
elation leaps from reflective waters,
it’s simply a dolphin passing by.
Against the backdrop of the palms,
Sol says goodnight to life ashore,
as life within the mirroring aqua;
so splendid is nature’s décor.
By Writinstuffs
This hard-working scarecrow is on duty at the gorgeous Deer River build. Read about it here on the SLuggle!
The title comes from TS Eliot's amazing poem The Hollow Men.
Whenever I stand by a pond I think of the poem
Daddy Fell into the Pond by Alfred Noyes. If you don't know it, and you want to smile, it is well worth reading - whatever your age.
allpoetry.com/Daddy-Fell-into-the-Pond
Created this for Treat This 94 in the Kreative People group www.flickr.com/groups/1752359@N21/discuss/72157657089233649/
Many thanks to abstractartangel for the source image which you can see in the first comment box below or here
www.flickr.com/photos/abstractartangel77/20488454645/
Other photos, brushes and textures are my own
Thank you for taking the time to visit, comment, fave or invite. I really appreciate them all.
_______________________________________________
My computer has a virus
My computer has a virus
I had found out today
So I called Dr. Watson
And requested him right away
Your computer has a virus
Dr. Watson had said.
But you shouldn't have called me
You should've called Norton instead
Your computer has a virus
Norton had relayed
And I could have fixed it
If the premium you had paid
My computer had a virus
But I don't worry anymore
For I picked the stupid thing up
And threw it out the door
If you do, you'll feel its wrath.
Happy Caturday! Taken for the theme "Poetry".
Here's the complete poem:
Cat Bath
You can not give a cat a bath
If you do, you'll feel its wrath.
A cat has a natural body oil
Wash it off will make it boil.
If you want to wash some fleas away
I wouldn't want to be in that cat's way.
But If you wash, here is my view
The cat has claws for dummies like you.
On Gossamer Wings
by Jude Kyrie
My soul has taken flight
from the bonds of the earth
Dancing in the blue skies
inside the laughter of angels
The sun above calls to me
to share the eternal joy
Hearts flying free
in the breath of heaven
The rainbows falling
beneath my gossamer wings’
Never an eagle or bird
have flown so high
Into this bright
and blossoming sky
Into the moonbeams
that grace heaven’s door
Awaiting outside to be blessed
by the grace of Gods
Countless planets lie below
As my outstretched fingers
touch the face of eternity
The title is a quote from Shefaul Anam’s poem ‘Closed Windows’ . The whole poem can be experienced here: allpoetry.com/poem/16010564-Closed-windows...-by-Shefaul-...
"Cats Sleep anywhere", a poem by Eleanor Farjeon: allpoetry.com/poem/8603773-Cats-by-Eleanor-Farjeon
Gracie is sleeping at a lower corner of the bed in the front bedroom. Taken by Edgar.
Built between 1930 - 1934, designed by architect Constantin Jotzu and by engineer Emil Prager, at the beginning it was the headquarter of the King of Romania - Ferdinand I Hohenzollern - Sigmaringen University Foundation from 1914 - 1927.
Currently, the University Library, one of the four central libraries in Romania, holds one of the most impressive collections of ancient books.
The interior is in Carrara marble and Venetian mosaics, while the exterior is adorned by ionic columns, neo Doric pilasters, small triangular pediments and medallions with the most important personalities of the national culture.
The Library bears the name of the great Romantic poet Mihai Eminescu
A Poppy I photographed back on Midsummer's Day, uploaded today to commemorate Armistice Day HBW!
Sharing one of my favourite war poems - High Flight (an Airman's Ecstasy) allpoetry.com/High-Flight-(an-Airman's-Ecstasy)
This link gives information on the young America Spitfire pilot who wrote this famous poem. He died in 1941 aged just 19 years allpoetry.com/John-Gillespie-Magee-Jr
Photo 54/100 for the 100 Flowers 2020 group.
Hungry Mungry sat at supper,
Took his knife and spoon and fork,
Ate a bowl of mushroom soup, ate a slice of roasted pork,
Ate a dozen stewed tomatoes, twenty-seven deviled eggs,
Fifteen shrimps, nine baked potatoes,
Thirty-two fried chicken legs,
A shank of lamb, a boiled ham,
Two bowls of grits, some black-eye peas,
Four chocolate shakes, eight angel cakes,
Nine custard pies with Muenster cheese,
Ten pots of tea, and after he,
Had eaten all that he was able,
He poured some broth on the tablecloth
And ate the kitchen table.
Part of a poem by Shel Silverstein
There's a bit more to the poem. Here is the link...
allpoetry.com/poem/14374596-Hungry-Mungry-by-Shel-Silvers...
"Cats Sleep anywhere", a poem by Eleanor Farjeon: allpoetry.com/poem/8603773-Cats-by-Eleanor-Farjeon
Millie is sleeping on a pillow of the bed in the front bedroom. Taken by Edgar.
Quiet calm of morning bare
unbroken by sun's haughty glare,
as the toasty scent wafts in the air.
Drip, drip...
My senses must wait until
those caramelized fruity essences,
have fully overcome my senses.
Getting drunk off its roasting song
that nudges me along,
on days when my will's not strong.
'Sip' by Howard R.
The original French sentiment was from a poem by Rosemonde Gerard and addressed to her beloved husband Edmond Rostand, the famous French writer of Cyrano de Bergerac. Written in 1890 but not published until 1889. known as "L'éternelle chanson (The Eternal Song). It expresses an ever growing love.
Here's a link to the full poem in English and French
allpoetry.com/poem/13982479-The-eternal-song-by-Rosemonde...
HSoS!
" 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 "
Dylan Thomas
allpoetry.com/do-not-go-gentle-into-that-good-night
My Photo on FLICKRIVER;
flickriver.com/photos/137473925@N08/
I havent put this in any groups and it has 317 Faves!! Hello and thank you all!!! Im now going to add it to all my groups to see what difference it makes. I will be pleasently surprised if I get more than 60 more. Ive been told by some cynics here that the reason I get lots of Faves is because I use so many groups! Really? The reason I get Faves is that people like my photos which I try to keep to a high standard [and often fail ] and maybe they like me a bit which is more important than anything to me. So be nice to one another. The idiots dont count for anything. 25/6/2023
A big hug to you great people out there in the World. Pat.
I honestly dont remember where I took this but it must be local. Didnt really look at it till now. I like the moodiness of it. Hope you do too!! And keep on raging and dont lie down too easily!!!!I Hugs. Pat.
Have you ever seen the lamp-post
On that old abandoned street
Light the faces of the children
Who are dancing to the beat
Of a song that plays in mem'ries
Of a long forgotten past?
Have you ever seen the lamp-post
Or you movin' way too fast?
Extracted from the poem "Have You Ever Seen The Lamp-Post?" (a poem for adults), by this brilliant artist Gregory James
I know he loves me
But dare I open my heart
To give him love back
I know he loves me
But dare I give in to him
To let him know me
I know he loves me
But dare I open my world
To let him crumble
I know he loves me
But I cannot tell him so
For my heart's sweet sake
by Sheer Poetry
On Jan 16 8:43 PM 2002
Bercintalah dengan Allah, Tuhan yang Maha Pencinta
Cinta kita pasti berbalas =]
So there I lay, and watched the sun's fierce beams
Reverberate in wreathed ethereal flame;
Or gazed upon the leaves which buzzed o'erhead,
Like tiny wings in simulated flight.
. . . presently, into the valley came
A mighty bison, which, with stately tread
And gleaming eyes, descended to the shore.
He stood and listened; but no voice replied!
Deeply he drank, then, lashed his quivering flanks,
And roared again, and hearkened, but no sound,
No tongue congenial answered to his call–
He was the last survivor of his clan!
- from The Last Bison
By Charles Mair
For TMI’s August contest, The Sun
All photographs and textures are my own.
My most recent book - a tribute to my river - and to all rivers.
I hope you like it - Have a good time :-)
(btw - my first "non-square book"!!! ;-D)
Here you can have a Full preview of the book.
...
Stamani mi sono disteso
In un’urna d’acqua
E come una reliquia
Ho riposato
...
Mi sono accoccolato
Vicino ai miei panni
Sudici di guerra
E come un beduino
Mi sono chinato a ricevere
Il sole
…
Il mio supplizio
È quando
Non mi credo
In armonia
...
This morning I stretched
Myself in an urn of water,
Like a relic, and rested.
...
I pulled my four
limbs together,
And went, like an acrobat,
Over the water.
…
My pain is
When I do not believe
Myself in harmony.
The ending of the poem by AmyKay....Empty Swing
I remember being on my swing swinging high up in the air.
Watching me from your window you smiled and wiped away a tear.
I ran inside and asked you, "Mommy, What's wrong? Are you okay?"
You said, " I just got a little sad as I sat and watched you play."
You told me one day when I had kids that I would understand.
Today I wiped away my own tear as I grabbed my little one's hand.
I knew one day, I would look out my window and see an empty little swing,
The only movement it would make would be from the gentle breeze.
more....https://allpoetry.com/poem/11400132-The-Empty-Swing-by-AmyKay
All rights reserved ©
"We open the halves of a miracle..."
Our lemon harvest this year has been simply mind-boggling and maybe even mind-altering. It all began one day last spring when a mysterious woman came to visit us. She heard how delicious our lemons were and wanted to see for herself. They really are delicious lemons--and also beautiful--and BIG.
I took her out to our garden. She picked a few lemons and tasted them--she seemed quite pleased. I watched as she lovingly touched the trunks of each of our 3 lemon trees and recited a poem by Pablo Neruda. She then poured a bit of water on the roots of the trees. I thought this was all kind of weird, but then, who am I to judge? She was such a lovely woman and seemed to really enjoy the beauty of the lemon trees.
She thanked me for allowing her to visit and departed in what seemed like a blink of an eye. I thought nothing more about her or this unusual visit because there really are some strange things in the desert. Have you ever heard about the Phoenix Lights or the events at Dreamy Draw?
Imagine my surprise when I picked our crop of lemons this year. Each one, when sliced open, looks exactly like this one.
Macro Mondays: April Fools’ Theme
Diameter of lemon is appx. 2"
And when the shade goes, and the coldness is lost,
He says we are left empty, floating or suffocating in this skin dressed...
And must wait till it comes again or go into dimness, searching for coldness,
Or tear, rending this dress into shreds, so the fragments can exhale.
My love, why haven't you carried me over the threshold?
Taken at Whitby, Birth of DraculaM.
---------------
As the sun sets, awaking the twilight at dusk,
She wears her perfume, the soft gentle musk.
The rays of dark shadows, grow silently each moment,
As hued as her hair and eyes, they grow sullen.
Steadily, the earth is wrapped in a nightly crown,
White and misty, like her wedding gown.
She walks, with the evening Lark,
Silent, but determined in her task.
The Ghost Bride walks her path again, as she did before,
She waits mysteriously in the passing night, as she did before,
Her spectre enchants every passerby, who gazes at her surreal beauty,
But her eyes are bloody red, telling an unspoken story of murder and cruelty!
She waits for her long lost love, as she promised she would,
Doing all in her power to keep her promise, her love, as strongly as she could.
But the hallowed earth, her home, reminds her of the horrors.
Oh the horrors! That had befallen upon her in her life, increasing her soul’s sorrows.
She awaits silently now, for her lover,
She knows now, he can’t run for cover,
For her betrayer, her murderer, would never see the light of the day’,
Just as she never saw, what lay beyond that sweet spring evening of May.
The evening, when she made her promise to love and protect him,
That unfortunate evening, when he delivered her to the reaper’s Grimm …
He now runs, when the night makes her ghostly vision clear,
For everywhere he runs, he sees her in the enveloping mist…he now knows the end is near…
But the bride is caught up in a divine smile…oblivious to his fear,
She moves through the fog, once again, wanting to be near.
Her hands reach up to him, to catch him in a sweet embrace,
He looks into the fire in her eyes and knows that he, long ago, had fallen from grace.
Before he realises the moments pace,
Twitch! and her angelic arms shatter his spine, his lifeless form falling through space…
His ghostly form rising from his body, and yet again, he knows he can’t ever escape!
For his bride pierces deep into the depths of his murderous, wretched soul..
And haunting him through all eternity, that being her dying but final goal…
Though once in life, she promised herself to him who betrayed her,
Swore to do right by the one who left her at the Reaper’s Door…
Content, now that she has had her revenge, her spirit dissipates through the fog,
But the melancholy returns, her voice gives out a soft sob…
Her haunting eyes speak tales of broken dreams and unfulfilled wishes,
Of unrequited love, of a tale which is humanity’s most malicious!
Her heart ,in her grave still beats with the church bell…
She now know’s her power, her purpose in death, her shadowy spell!
With which she promises to watch over every bride-to-be.
She fades in the moonlight, giving birth to legends, the world would soon see..
Open your eyes child
Your very soul is at stake.
The price has been paid
There is no more time to waste.
Quit treating your life as if it's a game.
Like you can call time out or sit on the sidelines until you're ready to tell coach,
"ok, I'm ready. Put me back in the game."
I know life can seem like scenes from a long dramatic movie
but my salvation provides you with the director's cut.
But you can't continue to live your life
With your Eyes. Wide. Shut.
Poem by KPayrick21
No place for an honest gull to rest after a hard day shell fishing. Late afternoon walk in our southern winter. Thanks for visiting!
A Poem by Jonathan Robin
allpoetry.com/poem/1127604-A-Dogs-Life-by-Jonathan-ROBIN
Sixteen years, now almost seventeen,
I've played at stick and ball, stayed seldom still
until good master's call would whistle shrill
to lead me back - no need to smack. Sight keen.
Sixteen years tail's wagged as faithful friend,
as boon companion, running round fun years.
His mother passed away, I shared the tears
that fountained forth and never seemed to end.
Sixteen years round each revolving moon
from hearth and home I pick up slightest sound,
ears prick, eyes bright, in sight I'm always found
to hold my ground, though often play buffoon.
Sixteen years, come rain or shine, we walk
twice, sometimes thrice a day, I sense each smell
around the house, tell friends from rascals well,
and after dinner hear the table talk.
Sixteen years from pet to family,
from playful pat to priceless kith and kin,
I vet as threat who'd twins' affections win,
can smell a rat or chase cat up a tree.
Sixteen years I've watched the children grow,
suffered unruly hands that now caress,
I guard them still, still at the same address,
as I will willing till my turn to go.
Sixteen years saw summers shedding hair,
saw autumns' colours charm birds from the trees,
saw winter whiteness whose bare branches' frieze
prepared for springs unbounded, weather fair.
Sixteen years, milk - nap - home-made pap brew,
from toothless start, heart full, until depart,
toothless, heart filled beyond all man may chart,
life's cycle spins till ready to renew.
Sixteen years that gambolled life away,
with water, beef and bone, I’ve played at will.
Scents seem less sharp today, and soon I will
make my last bow - still in thrill dreams I play !
The sea you see is countless tears, sweats
Tears that have refused to drown-
And the breeze that comes,
Are the breathe, countless exhale
The breathe of souls in the sea, wide and deep
A blue flame burns, which I can't let die
Visions of temptation, they make me cry
allpoetry.com/poem/6678895-The-Blue-Flame-by-TheAwesome
#aurelias
#secondlife #thenaturecollective
Famous because you can hear it in many places with dense forest. We hear now on Cunningham's Gap between Warwick and Artatula
Made even more famous by one of Australia's best known poems called, would you believe, "Bellbirds" by Henry Kendall.
Very difficult to see in the dense forest, let alone photograph. I was very lucky to be able to get this shot.
I am like him, this man
-In a shade, a depth, familiar
Naked, in the cold, upon a desert
Our souls perduring in perdition
Souls drowning, in a bottomless void
He cannot taste, he can’t scream,
-He can reach, but won’t, the nothingness
Looks, like a mist of conceit,
-It is no mist-
But smoke, sands, that engulfs him
Looks so much better on black!!
This is by J.R. Tolkien. If you want to read the whole thing, go to allpoetry.com/poem/8500003-Roads_Go_Ever_On-by-J_R_R_Tolkien it's pretty long though!
Some have looked to the roads, like some,
Seeking away.
But the road, stretched not long,
Have an end.
Should somebody one day knock at your door
Announcing he's an emissary of mine,
Never believe him, nor that it is I;
For to knock does not go with my vainglory,
Even at the unreal door of the sky
From the poem "Should Somebody One Day" by Fernando Pessoa
Seen in EXPLORE #61
NO INVITES and GRAPHICS please!!! I appreciate and would really be happy to see your personal comments :) THANK YOU!
***********************oOo***********************
When you said, "I love you,"
The stars seemed to sing in tune.
As God brought forth light,
You ended my night.
So with those three little words
You've created something new:
A true bond of devotion
Between little ole me and you
and we thought they had created
A world that would last.
but then i got a new feeling
i was so full of love
That I shouldve been drowning
In the water colder than ice
With every light shining
the water so cold but
I still feel warm
As if Im going on a journey through a storm
Confusing myself both body and mind
And being absolutely blind
My heart began to race so fast
theres no way i could handle the heat
Im burning up and cant cast
A single phrase without deceit
which wouldnt have been so huge
if these feelings were for you
but now i have these ties
for, yes, two gals
so how do i choose
between the two?
i love you
but i love her too
A poem taken from allpoetry.com
***********************oOo***********************
Have a GREAT day my friends!!!
From 'Do not go gentle into that good night' Sorry, couldn't resist a bit of Dylan Thomas there!
It certainly looks like a raging and dying light there, doesn't it? There's something so fascinating about sunsets like these … sunrises too, of course!
Taken looking south from my driveway across the rough pastureland towards Needham Lake.
If you should wish to read the full poem … here's a link: allpoetry.com/Do-Not-Go-Gentle-Into-That-Good-Night
"we shall by morning inherit the earth" (Sylvia Plath, Mushrooms allpoetry.com/poem/8498359-Mushrooms-by-Sylvia-Plath)
I almost missed a cluster of these tiny mushrooms sprouting on a rotting stump. They were so tiny, and blended into the background. This is from a focus stack of five images, taken handheld at Hillkeep Place Regional Park, Chilliwack, BC
Descend atop soul sanity mask in madness
From above heaven whose eyes within see
Beyond shores existence laid me
Burying me in ere twain
Gusting world mine to world hers
allpoetry.com/poem/11345408-The-Whimpered-Whisperings--by...
Original line from Treasure Island:
"Fifteen men on The Dead Man's Chest--
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
Theme expanded in 1891 in a poem by Y.E. Allison:
Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest—
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
The mate was fixed by the bos'n's pike,
The bos'n brained with a marlin spike,
And Cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped
By fingers ten;
And there they lay,
All good dead men
Like break-o'-day in a boozing-ken—
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
Complete lyrics: allpoetry.com/Derelict
Excellent rendition: youtu.be/oOEyejZUObs
No, I couldn't get perfect shots of these happy ducks, but with the glow of the autumn reflection and just the fun, I thought I'd post them, anyway.
Then, I was happy to see that I'm not the only person who appreciates ducks:
allpoetry.com/poem/8495193-Ducks-by-Frank_W_Harvey
Harvey has an interesting life story: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F._W._Harvey
Explored, October 24, #112 (really? So pleased to share!)
‘ We used to picnic where the thrift, Grew deep and tufted to the edge;’ Trebetherick
John Betjeman
Polzeath is a small village situated on the north coast of Cornwall, home to a fantastic beach and one of the world’s most renowned surfing destinations. The beach is a magnificent stretch of golden sand situated between Pentire Head to the north and the mouth of the Camel Estuary. A haven for surfers and beach lovers alike, lifeguards are on the beach during the daytime in the summer season.
It was a favourite haunt of the late Poet Laureate, Sir John Betjeman, and is celebrated in some of his verse. ‘In-coming tide, Atlantic waves, slapping the sunny cliffs’ he wrote in his poem 'Seaside Golf'. One of the many poems inspired by his days down in Cornwall. He would come down by train to Padstow and cross the water to Trebetherick, next door to Polzeath. When he died in 1984, his body was laid to rest in the little graveyard at St.Enodoc Church, right in the middle of the golf course.
Adapted from:
snail drawing from a while ago. I am revisiting them for a new project (stay tuned !)
I had such fun drawing a series of snails and think they have great character.
watercolour pencil
There is a delightful poem by AA Milne where "James was a very small" snail.http://allpoetry.com/The-Four-Friends
I told him of the ocean inside of me
Sometimes still, sometimes a bubbling storm
Sometimes the tides reaches, a sweat
He asks if it is blue or white
I’d forgotten -how did I forget?
` look up and see `
do lorries roar
loom right ahead
as worries fight
to etch their space
in grueling grind
look up and see
sweet welcome rain
forms faithfully
supernal bright
shines deep within
though trials beset
demands increase
let hope reside
know there is One
who sees and cares
will comfort us
on darkened days
through endless nights
of wilting light
we're ever safe
ensconced embraced
so tenderly
inside His love
we're strengthened brought
through troubled times
to pleasant glades
and sunshine smiles
on grateful blooms
with petals sweet
on silken song
---
Job 35:5 "Look up to heaven and see,
Observe the clouds, which are high above you."
Ps 147:6-8 "...The One who covers the heavens with clouds... providing rain for the earth... making grass sprout on the mountains."
Ps 36:5 "... your loyal love, Jah Almighty, reaches to the heavens,
Your faithfulness up to the clouds."
Matt 6:28-31 "Take a lesson from the lilies of the field... if this is how God clothes the vegetation of the field... will he not much rather clothe you... So never be anxious!"
poem by permission of robyn selters from:
allpoetry.com/poem/13840125---look-up-and-see---by-robyn-...
"I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror -
The wide brown land for me!"
Dorothea Mackellar was born in Sydney in 1885 into a well-established, wealthy family, and was educated privately at the University of Sydney. At 19 years old she wrote a poem, 'My Country', the second verse of which is perhaps the best known stanza in Australian poetry. Her family owned substantial properties in the Gunnedah district of New South Wales and it is in this town which claims her as their own, there a statue of her on horseback has been erected.
These words were so true then as they are now. We have been through months of raging bushfires and now the rains have come which are now causing flooding in some parts. The land is so dry and hard from the drought that we need some light rain to soak in to the soil before the heavy rains can ease the drought.
The rain and cooler weather after the heatwave is pure bliss.
The full poem can be read here:
allpoetry.com/poem/8526595-My-Country-by-Dorothea-Mackellar
We heard on the news if the rains continue as predicted, our dam will most likely be up to 70% by next week - shows what a bit of rain can do.