Watercolor Musings

SASSY AND TIGS VACATION

feeds@yuku.com (Sassy Nation) — Sun, 13 Jul 2008 05:02:44 GMT

Wow, its hard to believe a week has gone by! it went so fast. We have been going full blast with going out and doing things here in KC since she got here.

One of the first things we did, was give her a complete make over! She got a lovely hair cut - its long with layers and she has these beautiful curls! Plus, she is no longer a dirty blonde! Sassy made her a red head now! LOL its called Light auburn and it looks absolutely stunning with her completion!

Then we went out...

Very moving to my life

feeds@yuku.com (blackfoot1964) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 16:59:57 GMT

Dead man lying on the bottom of the grave
Wondering when Savior comes
Is he gonna be saved

Maybe you're a sinner into your alternate life
Maybe you're a joker maybe you deserve to die

They were crying when their sons left
God is wearing black
He's gone so far to find no hope
He's never coming back
They were crying when their sons left
All young men must go
He's come so far to find the truth
He's...

All about her

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 07:25:09 GMT

I think about that girl maybe because I tought once I would never see her again. I was broken for many days after that episode and never asked her out again. With one exception that is on that particular day, we have seen each other once and I always think about her. Now I discovered that my car would not start or my psp download need to be repaired . But that doesn't stop the fact that I miss the feeling of intimacy with her,...

Conspiracy music

feeds@yuku.com (pat2025) — Mon, 24 Oct 2005 11:16:10 GMT

China and Mutt

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Mon, 10 May 2004 14:27:51 GMT

We live on a hill, the boys and I - a hill that hovers over a narrow coiling road cut into its' side.

Every morning up on the hill is the same. I take the boys out to relieve themselves, hoping they will 'go' immediately so that I might go inside to my coffee.

And every morning my hopes fade when the boys stop frozen to watch the old Chinese lady laboring up the steep incline with her gray and bent dog; a dog who works to stay one step ahead.

They trod along in planned,...

A meadow of waving flowers

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Sat, 27 Mar 2004 02:35:29 GMT

Lobsters can be used to hold flower arraingements and wave them in a pleasing fashion. I use tulips in the spring and azalias in the fall, but you can use your own favorite varieties. The only limit is your imagination.

Martha

Caveat Emptor

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Tue, 06 Jan 2004 16:11:03 GMT

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action: and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a poisoned bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, worst of...

Let me not to the marriage of ------

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Mon, 05 Jan 2004 13:55:44 GMT

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
That changes when changes it finds,
Or bends with change when it remove:

O No! it is an ever fixed mark
That looks on storms and is never shaken;
It is the Pole Star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth is unknown, altho the sight be taken.

Love is not Time's food, tho rosy lips and cheeks
Within his loving memories compass come:
Love alters not within brief hours and...

They left early in the morning

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Sun, 04 Jan 2004 14:00:32 GMT

The street sounds to the soldier's tread
And out we troop to see;
A single soldier turns his head,
He turns and looks at me.

My man, from sky to sky's so far
We've never met before;
Such miles apart the world's ends are,
We'll likely meet no more.

What thoughts of heart have you and I
We cannot stop to tell;
But dead or living, drunk or dry,
Soldier, I wish you well.

John Donne - An appreciation of Beautiful Women

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Sat, 03 Jan 2004 08:13:44 GMT

John Donne, one of my favorite English poets, takes a little getting used to; he is pointy and brilliant yet with an overlay of cynicism unusual for his time (C1650). The following is probably the most cutting definition of womankind that I have ever read. Understand, he is talking about beautiful women.

In the first stanza he gets your attention and sets the stage by specifying several impossibile happenings or situations; in the second he sets up a hypothetical, but difficult task...

She shall live on in these black lines.....

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Fri, 02 Jan 2004 04:40:53 GMT

Time for a short retrospective on times past and those things we hold onto as long as we can. Beauty, or at least the human form of it, is transient at best or gone and done with at worst, and we are left still seeing with older eyes what was so glorious in our youth. A kindness we all can appreciate. It is with good reason our eyesight, no matter how technically augmented, plays tricks with us in in old age. That said, I have PLAGARIZED the following Sonnet unmercifully and tried to...

The Day the Cats Took Over

feeds@yuku.com (Howie) — Thu, 20 Nov 2003 18:23:44 GMT

It was the day the cats took over.
"We want what is rightfully ours," they said. "We want the soft food."
The people had no choice but to comply.
Later, we all pretended like nothing had happened.

1993; I forget the name of the author or the point.

Does the name Ruby Begonia mean anything to you?

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Sat, 15 Nov 2003 14:03:42 GMT

Come fill your cup and in the fires of spring
Your winter garment of repentence fling
The Bird of Time has but a little way to fly;
And look! the Bird is now on the wing.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Thu, 11 Sep 2003 04:42:50 GMT

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.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightening they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might might have danced in a gree bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in...

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Tue, 09 Sep 2003 12:41:20 GMT

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.

from St Anonymous

A Partial Poem - slightly suggestive

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Tue, 26 Aug 2003 13:12:39 GMT

Mary had a little skirt
it was split right up the sides
And everytime she wore that skirt
The boys could see her thighs!

Mary had another skirt
it split right up the front
But she seldom wore it anywhere.

from The Strange Visions of St Anonymous

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Fri, 15 Aug 2003 19:03:03 GMT

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden...

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Wed, 13 Aug 2003 11:48:40 GMT

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and...

Quo Vadis ?

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Tue, 12 Aug 2003 06:38:40 GMT

Gather to You...

Friend, with Sleep's thievish way
You halve this, your precious day;
The years Time steals from me
Are found where I can be
Found; - in my Work and in my Play.

from The Strange Visions of St Eugene Anonymous, c1970

Words of starting.........

feeds@yuku.com (Unregistered(d)) — Mon, 11 Aug 2003 05:44:25 GMT

Many works are marred by the way they begin. For some reason we may totally disregard a poem or any other written document if the first few lines do not "grab" us. I am one of those people and must confess to the same fault as everyone else in this respect. I submit the following ten (10) lines as the most incredible beginning to a poem I have ever read. The poem is fairly long and does drag a bit further on but this leadin is really great.

Note: These lines were...