Mirrorball15 October 2012 at 7:31amPosts: 1624 (0 today)Status: offline
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigour; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Pat Parker20 October 2012 at 3:36pmPosts: 2683 (0 today)Status: offline
This is a nice sentiment that I've read before. Thanks, Ayla.
Little rainbow20 October 2012 at 6:48pmPosts: 3954 (1 today)Status: offline
Darcy,I have found your lines very touching.
I am glad you liked the piece LR. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment.
May I speak.24 October 2012 at 1:25pmPosts: 320 (1 today)Status: offline
So here I stand you be the judge,
because from false accusations I will never budge.
Just came to this moon for sounds to inspire,
9 months later I'am a troll bully liar.
I know I'am not perfect but pray tell me who is,
and the story gets better because I've turned into Ms.
Now I'am labelled by some as a bad seed in your crop,
whom I'am sure have requested that you give me the chop.
So I will make this one hundred per cent clear,
unplug my connection if you don't want me here.
If the words that are written are hard for you to understand,
I am sorry for that there not suppose to be grand.
Just little sounds bites of my time here on the moon,
and the trials and tribulations of becoming a loon.
Mirrorball24 October 2012 at 2:06pmPosts: 1624 (0 today)Status: offline
Just thinking of your words ...Arebor ..What I really don't get here is that you are told in a five paragraph explanation, on how these people don't have the time to read the threads here.Why try and get some response from emptiness ??
May I speak.24 October 2012 at 2:38pmPosts: 320 (1 today)Status: offline
Because the fiction I'am informed is actual fact, they do read these threads, but may or may not read the one's trolls post, not fluffy enough perhaps!
Zenrider27 October 2012 at 8:23pmPosts: 3547 (0 today)Status: offline
Had to bump and bump up Oz's last words in this thread.
Oz 18 June at 4:31pm Posts: 109 (0 today) Status: offline
Drifting, slipping, back into your paradigm
Fear feigns as confidence
Peaking cautiously above the horizon
Tops of your eyes shifting, surveying
Tentative, yet bold momentarily
Your mind, over processing
Learned responses, engage
Experiences embedded, a permanent page
Perspectives, harnessed, click!
Disciplined constructs, invoke restraint
Developed reality, a surreal fate
A barrier, to anything beyond
A perimeter-well guarded
Impenetrable, a wordless song
Despite self-perception of breadth
Desire verses capacity, a clarity death
Free thinking, throttled
Open heart, bottled
Embracing a sort of social deity
The checklist paradigm
Jared C28 October 2012 at 8:42amPosts: 986 (0 today)Status: offline
DREA ROSA IMPREZZA
From silk adorned in white sheet chocolate flora
There lifted a great reason to grin,
Sinning in every way possible beneath
full moon laurels.
Coming back to the hearth again
Clamped in Milan and Florence,
Drea Rosa Imprezza.
Some whispers would leak
That the girl in blue satin
Petted heavy in the torch-light
Good Italy - night fire
Consuming yeast product memories
Adorned by all men,
Drea Rosa Imprezza
I was certain that a ghost lingered
Beneath the grass caking my feet
My bare essence of youth
That tumbled forward always in strides
My would-be wife
My tepid quotient
tied to me-
It's fair to say I loved
Drea Rosa Imprezza.
The raven still squawks a good game
Black as pearl tar
How we got there on the Venice beach-
The long-acquitted defendant
of my life-
Drea Rosa Imprezza
Sadly the days grew cold,
But tiny spikes
of heat remained-
Tearing my soul to pieces
and calling the one phone call meant to harm.
Oh, she knew what it was to laugh
And pare my self to a cross
Before I ever let rummage become satin
again in my eye
Drea Rosa Imprezza
Beneath the stream.
She drowned one day
When noone was looking.
I made up a patchwork blanket
For two bodies to cling underneath-
I guided my spare tire
across the plains of Middle Europe
to catch up.
I beguiled all the windows of the world
to open upon the shadow
And treat my beautiful ghost
the way all women would want-
My dashed wet warrior
Sandy through the toes,
She spoke to me every night after-
My perfect balance-
Drea Rosa Imprezza,
Little rainbow5 November 2012 at 10:25pmPosts: 3954 (1 today)Status: offline
AEGEAN - Oddysseas Elytis
The network of islands
?And the prow of its foam
?And the gulls of its dreams
?On its highest mast a sailor
?Whistles a song.
?nd the horizons of its voyage
And the sound of its longing
On its wettest rock the bride
Waits for a ship.
?And the nonchalance of its winds
And the jib sail of its hope
?On the lightest of its waves an island
?Cradles the arrival.
??- 2 -
In their shadowy flow
Speak with their kisses about the dawn?
And the pigeons in their cave
Rustle their wings
Blue awakening in the source
?The northwest wind bestows the sail
To the sea
The hair's caress
In the insouciance of its dream
Dew - cool
?Waves in the light
Revive the eyes
Where life sails towards
The surf a kiss on its caressed sand-love
The gull bestows its blue liberty
?To the horizon
Waves come and go
?Foamy answer in the shell's ear.
Who carried away the blonde and sunburned girl?
The sea-breeze with its transparent breath
Tilts dream's sail
Love murmurs its promise-Surf.
La proue de ses écumes
Et les goélands de ses rêves
Au grand mât le marin agite
Les horizons de son voyage
Et l'écho de sa nostalgie
Sur son rocher le plus mouillé la fiancée attend
L'insouciance de ses vents
Et le foc de son espoir
À sa moindre ondulation c'est une île que berce
Joueuses, les eaux
Dans les détroits ombreux
Par leurs baisers disent l'aurore
Et du fond de leur grottes
les colombes sauvages
de bruissement d'ailes
propagent un son
Éveil bleu dans la source
Le vent offre la voile
À la mer
Les caresses des cheveux
Dans l'insouciance de ton rêve
Vague dans la lumière
Faisant renaître les yeux
Là où la Vie fait voile
Vers le belvédère
Bruit des eaux baiser caresse sur le sable — Amour
Le goéland offre sa liberté bleue
Les vagues s'en vont et s'en reviennent
Réponse d'écume à l'oreille des coquillages
Qui a pris la blonde et la brunie ?
Le zéphyr au souffle translucide
S'incline au loin
voile du rêve
Amour murmure sa promesse — Bruit des eaux.
Little rainbow5 November 2012 at 11:49pmPosts: 3954 (1 today)Status: offline
one of mine, freely inspired from Mr Katché piece of music of the same name
Walking your side
La rue bourgeonne en plein hiver
les regards des murs frôlent
ton sourire qui me revient
comme un soleil éclectique
en plein coeur
mouvance écaillée d'un ciel
grisonnant de nuages
qui pressés chaloupent
et double -filent
entrainés par la rue
je suis ton pas
ton pas léger
qui fait danser
le gris terni et
et brusquement, il est soleil,
tout ralenti et tout se fige
plus rien ne bouge
plus rien ne bruisse
plus rien ne bat
que majeur le tempo
sous ma peau d'un coeur
niant la pause
qui s' impose
je suis ton pas
ton pas qui écume
le jour preste
et s'en libère
allégé de demain.
Walking your side
Street is buding in full winter
The glances of the walls are skiming
which goes back to me
as an eclectic sun
In full heart
Flaked motion of a sky
graying of clouds
which in a hurry are swinging
in double-spining line
carried away by the street
I follow your step
with no emergency
your light step
which make dance
the dim wandering grey
And sudenly it's sun
all slows down and stops
No more beating
unless major the tempo
Under my skin of a heart
Denying the rest
I follow your step
which scours the day
set free from it
relieved of tomorrows.
PR le 30/10/12
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.
Cranky Old Man
What do you see nurses?… … What do you see?
What are you thinking… … when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man… … not very wise,
Uncertain of habit… … with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food… … and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice… … ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice… … the things that you do.
And forever is losing… … A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not… … lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding… … The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking?… … Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse… … you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am … … As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding… … as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten… … with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters… … who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen… … with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now… … a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty… … my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows… … that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now… … I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide… … And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty… … My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other… … With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons… … have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me… … to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more… … Babies play ‘round my knee,
Again, we know children … … My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me… … My wife is now dead.
I look at the future… … I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing… … young of their own.
And I think of the years… … And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man… … and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age… … look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles… … grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone… … where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass… … A young man still dwells,
And now and again… … my battered heart swells
I remember the joys… … I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living… … life over again.
I think of the years, all too few… … gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact… … that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people… … open and see.
Not a cranky old man… …
Look closer… see … … . . ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there too!
Jared C14 December 2012 at 11:06amPosts: 986 (0 today)Status: offline
I've gotten far down
the "G" train track work,
To the smallest corner of Brooklyn
Lined with Christmas wonders,
In tinsel string patches
There was a man
A small person singing Carols,
Adjacent to a restaurant facade,
He gave me a look of casualty,
In preparation for a birth,
A pregnant debutant
Cajoles the every whim of the streets
In a tavern lit with eye-light,
Pairing couples in the long nights of December
With a brew in each hand.
And I continued down to Coney Island
Where the souls know no mercy
Where the Winter's chill laps endlessly
On the Hudson's creatures
Bearing their teeth
In frozen smiles.
Mirrorball14 December 2012 at 12:10pmPosts: 1624 (0 today)Status: offline
I wonder are there some poems about Mr Gabriel written in here ? Just a question.
Mirrorball14 December 2012 at 12:13pmPosts: 1624 (0 today)Status: offline
Talking about what his music means to us.
Page14 December 2012 at 1:31pmPosts: 814 (0 today)Status: offline
PG inspired this one (what the heck eh Pat) don't ask why or how - poetic license I guess
King George Station
Saw you were standing at the King George Station
Reminded me of another time, and place...concentration
The race to win at any cost
To win the war, it's you I lost
Saw you standing aloof and alone
at King George Station
The Sky Train was plain out of luck
Registration at the Station
Sanity and soul on the line
Concentration - Don't miss a step
Don't cut your hand - not this time
Saw you standing alone by the sea
Swy-a-lana is your Shangrila
for all to see, in your eyes
The shining moon reflects
the shining sea
It seems to me we stood this way before...
you and me by the sea
come home to me...to me
Talking to the Captain, solving his mystery
Here we go again he said
with a grin - here we go
Guilt without sin
Sin without pain or fustration
left it all behind at King George Station
Saw you standing at King George Station
Time for you to come home - elation
Avalon awaits the man
Catch the train at King George Station
Time is time this time celebration
Page14 December 2012 at 1:33pmPosts: 814 (0 today)Status: offline
I never know which a direction lyrics or poems will go, sometimes they just write themselves
Page14 December 2012 at 3:01pmPosts: 814 (0 today)Status: offline
I should make clear that the song/poem is inspired by Mr. G. but is not about him - kind of about star crosses lovers separated by lifetimes and war and reincarnation - where the wars they were involved in were more important than a silly love affair - something like that.
Little rainbow14 December 2012 at 7:59pmPosts: 3954 (1 today)Status: offline
what his music means to us ..... a short one
Night was never complete
At the windows blinded embrasure
In the hollow
Of silence drapes
The fragile echo
Of a voice.
I draw from it my strength
I draw from it my faith
I draw from it the courage
It has been
And will be
My part of beauty in this world.