I have a face
I would like everyone to take note that I now have joined the ranks of those with images on display in this very special spave.
A poem for all of you:
Be that as it may
When all things turn to dust
I will return to the sea
And no human thread shall bind me
The spirit takes what pleases her
Leaving the rest of me to wonder
What good did this vessel serve and
Who is the master of my mind
A poem for all of you:
Be that as it may
When all things turn to dust
I will return to the sea
And no human thread shall bind me
The spirit takes what pleases her
Leaving the rest of me to wonder
What good did this vessel serve and
Who is the master of my mind
posted by mosahr at 10:05 AM
17 Comments:
I post, that you may view my image.
Very Nice image and poem Flickish
Heres lookin at you flick!
If one were to look at our pictures, they might think that we are realated or something. Hmmm... I wonder.
Nice pictures alright.
Both of you guys look good...
especially if you consider that
you are both related to – and look
like –the white goose next
to my post (or is it a duck?)!
Did you write that poem, Fly?
I think there should maybe be a similar pic of Mr. (or should it be Dr.? Dr. sounds really good to me) Fillmore, so that there could be comparison, it would be interesting to see.
I think I should at least get an Owl.
but pops i have never taken a picture of an owl. schetch me up one or find me one and i will make it so.
Het all. Pictures indeed. Nice. Poem mine? Yes. Just for you. Be still.
We should use the picture of my little owl.
I think Susan has one.
I thought you shot it too.
No?
Anyway. Let's google a screech owl.
Het to you Flick Flt.
Don't you think Fly looks particularly Irish?
I think Fly looks particularly good. I think he must have taken much time with that pose. i will be posting a partclarly nice anna shot soon as well. its one that all should see.
Fly, do you know that
there is a paradox in your poem?
To wit:
And thus, if all is dust
must needs thee to
a dusty sea flee?
Of this ken doth
perhaps thy mind's
Master posess?
Doth thee?
Flick took not much time at all. The Owl looks very similar ineed, D and me. Look Irish we do. Owl we are.
There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses,
Oh, he never misses
To grow eloquent.
'Tis he may clamber
To a lady's chamber,
Or become a member
Of Parliament.
Five miles north west of the small city of Cork is the village of Blarney - its name being derived from the Irish An blarna meaning 'the plain'. Near the village, standing almost 90 feet in height, is the solidly built castle of Blarney. Cormac MacCarthy erected the present castle, the third constructed at the site, in 1446. Built on a rock, above several caves, the tower originally had three storeys. On the top storey, just below the battlements on the parapet, is the world famous Blarney Stone, said to give the gift of eloquence to all who kiss it. Kissing the stone is for some people a difficult physical feat. In past times, to kiss the Stone people were hung by their heels over the edge of the parapet. One day a pilgrim broke from the grasp of his friends and went hurtling downward to certain death. Since that time the stone has been kissed by another method. First, you sit with your back towards the stone and then someone sits upon your legs or firmly holds your feet. Next, leaning far back and downward into the abyss while grasping the iron rails, you lower yourself until your head is even with the stone to be kissed.
In regard to the paradox:
Through thy fingertips
though dost speek sooth
Yet understand you
I do not when
Use of a man's name
Enters in
Master, he may master
not be
I look to you and not the sea.
Fly.
Of this ken not I, nor dried up sea can speak.
Let thine own mind mend the logic leak.
The paradox doth not reside with Master,
but if all has come to dust, how shall thee
dried as a prune, return
to a sadly shrivled sea?
Perhaps then, it is Master only
Who is dust and thus become so lonely.
Let's put this whole thing together.
It's nice!
A poem for all of you:
(or ruminations of a dualistic soma)
(First aspect's assertion)
Be that as it may
When all things turn to dust
I will return to the sea
And no human thread shall bind me
The spirit takes what pleases her
Leaving the rest of me to wonder
What good did this vessel serve and
Who is the master of my mind '
(2nd aspect's challenge)
And thus, if all is dust
must needs thee to
a dusty sea flee?
Of this ken doth
perhaps thy mind's
Master posess?
Doth thee?
(Interlude)
There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses,
Oh, he never misses
To grow eloquent.
'Tis he may clamber
To a lady's chamber,
Or become a member
Of Parliament.
(First aspect's retort)
Through thy fingertips
though dost speek sooth
Yet understand you
I do not when
Use of a man's name
Enters in
Master, he may master
not be
I look to you and not the sea.
(2nd aspect's clarification)
Of this ken not I, nor dried up sea can speak.
Let thine own mind mend the logic leak.
The paradox doth not reside with Master,
but if all has come to dust, how shall thee
dried as a prune, return
to a sadly shrivled sea?
Perhaps then, it is Master only
Who is dust and thus become so lonely.
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