just ignore and let this one die
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Allegria Kanto
Trailing clouds of glory
Join date: 28 Nov 2007
Posts: 1,004
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09-23-2008 16:36
From: Amaranthim Talon Tex- every time I have been there I fall thru the ground- rez a cube and sit on it, stand and u will be fine... near there though I am not sure where exactly from there, steely and i found lovely mountains with waterfalls and - of course- a store  - I tried to find it again and could not - maybe he took an LM, I will ask. Worth the exploration, the access is thru some sort of Tunnel in the Sky type opening that teleports u- you really have to know where to look. Life is poetry - it is song and symphony and each one of us writes our own verse; whether we build it out of prims, like AM Radio, or write it out in the hundreds and thousands of tidbit-drama we participate in every day. Hell, we know cyber can be extremely poetic- we have all enjoyed Yosef's lyrical postings right here  . Call it prose, call it sonnet- it is an uplifting of spirit and a sharing of our so very human hunger to reach out and share our selves. Poetry - in all it's forms- says "see me, know me- hear me, understand me". I think it binds us in a great human chain - from rap to Beethoven, from finger paints in the Lascaux to Rodin to SL sculpties- art is poetry, poetry is art and it lives in all of us, it is our human birthright I think. Here is a favorite poem of mine: Patterns by Amy Lowell
I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils Are blowing, and the bright blue squills. I walk down the patterned garden-paths In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jewelled fan, I too am a rare Pattern. As I wander down The garden paths.
My dress is richly figured, And the train Makes a pink and silver stain On the gravel, and the thrift Of the borders. Just a plate of current fashion, Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes. Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade. And I sink on a seat in the shade Of a lime tree. For my passion Wars against the stiff brocade. The daffodils and squills Flutter in the breeze As they please. And I weep; For the lime-tree is in blossom And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
And the plashing of waterdrops In the marble fountain Comes down the garden-paths. The dripping never stops. Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin, A basin in the midst of hedges grown So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding, But she guesses he is near, And the sliding of the water Seems the stroking of a dear Hand upon her. What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown! I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground. All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.
I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths, And he would stumble after, Bewildered by my laughter. I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles on his shoes. I would choose To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths, A bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover, Till he caught me in the shade, And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me, Aching, melting, unafraid. With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops, And the plopping of the waterdrops, All about us in the open afternoon -- I am very like to swoon With the weight of this brocade, For the sun sifts through the shade.
Underneath the fallen blossom In my bosom, Is a letter I have hid. It was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke. "Madam, we regret to inform you that Lord Hartwell Died in action Thursday se'nnight." As I read it in the white, morning sunlight, The letters squirmed like snakes. "Any answer, Madam," said my footman. "No," I told him. "See that the messenger takes some refreshment. No, no answer." And I walked into the garden, Up and down the patterned paths, In my stiff, correct brocade. The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun, Each one. I stood upright too, Held rigid to the pattern By the stiffness of my gown. Up and down I walked, Up and down.
In a month he would have been my husband. In a month, here, underneath this lime, We would have broke the pattern; He for me, and I for him, He as Colonel, I as Lady, On this shady seat. He had a whim That sunlight carried blessing. And I answered, "It shall be as you have said." Now he is dead.
In Summer and in Winter I shall walk Up and down The patterned garden-paths In my stiff, brocaded gown. The squills and daffodils Will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow. I shall go Up and down, In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed. And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace By each button, hook, and lace. For the man who should loose me is dead, Fighting with the Duke in Flanders, In a pattern called a war. Christ! What are patterns for?Amara, many of your posts are poetry. Trust you to get to the heart of the matter, while we lesser mortals snip back and forth at each other. ...and this poem is lovely.
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Let us pray that we ourselves cease to be the cause of suffering to each other. -- Thich Nhat Hahn
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 16:47
From: Allegria Kanto Snowdrops by Louise Gluck Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. I did not expect to survive, earth suppressing me. I didn't expect to waken again, to feel in damp earth my body able to respond again, remembering after so long how to open again in the cold light of earliest spring-- afraid, yes, but among you again crying yes risk joy in the raw wind of the new world. From: Maureen Boccaccio Trillium by Louise Glück When I woke up I was in a forest. The dark seemed natural, the sky through the pine trees thick with many lights. I knew nothing; I could do nothing but see. And as I watched, all the lights of heaven faded to make a single thing, a fire burning through the cool firs. Then it wasn't possible any longer to stare at heaven and not be destroyed. Are there souls that need death's presence, as I require protection? I think if I speak long enough I will answer that question, I will see whatever they see, a ladder reaching through the firs, whatever calls them to exchange their lives— Think what I understand already. I woke up ignorant in a forest; only a moment ago, I didn't know my voice if one were given to me would be so full of grief, my sentences like cries strung together. I didn't even know I felt grief until that word came, until I felt rain streaming from me. Louise Glück, “Trillium" from The Wild Iris. Copyright ©1992 by Louise Glück. Reprinted with permission of HarperCollins. Source: The Wild Iris (The Ecco Press, 1992). Mmmmmmm I love Louise Gluck poems  VV
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 16:48
From: Allegria Kanto Oh, thanks, Maureen! I love this poem... love the whole book. I highly recommend it to any poetry lovers out there. (Somehow feeling I might be alone on the thread in my love of poetry, heehee.) Not at all Allegria, in fact there are some of my own posted in this very thread 
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Maggie McArdle
FIOS hates puppies
Join date: 8 May 2006
Posts: 2,855
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09-23-2008 16:51
no, you aren't alone Allegria.
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There's, uh, probably a lot of things you didn't know about lindens. Another, another interesting, uh, lindenism, uh, there are only three jobs available to a linden. The first is making shoes at night while, you know, while the old cobbler sleeps.You can bake cookies in a tree. But the third job, some call it, uh, "the show" or "the big dance," it's the profession that every linden aspires to.
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 16:53
From: Maureen Boccaccio Threadies, I just wanted tell you how much I enjoy your company, here in this thread, in other parts of the forums, on both sides of the street, and of course, inworld. I laugh, I cry, I groan, I am renewed. You are wonderful Mo *hugs and a lil' nibble* You never lose your cool and are always cheerful in your responses 
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 16:53
From: Allegria Kanto Amara, many of your posts are poetry. Trust you to get to the heart of the matter, while we lesser mortals snip back and forth at each other. ...and this poem is lovely. I endorse this post 
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Maggie McArdle
FIOS hates puppies
Join date: 8 May 2006
Posts: 2,855
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09-23-2008 16:53
From: Maureen Boccaccio Threadies, I just wanted tell you how much I enjoy your company, here in this thread, in other parts of the forums, on both sides of the street, and of course, inworld. I laugh, I cry, I groan, I am renewed. 
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There's, uh, probably a lot of things you didn't know about lindens. Another, another interesting, uh, lindenism, uh, there are only three jobs available to a linden. The first is making shoes at night while, you know, while the old cobbler sleeps.You can bake cookies in a tree. But the third job, some call it, uh, "the show" or "the big dance," it's the profession that every linden aspires to.
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3Ring Binder
always smile
Join date: 8 Mar 2007
Posts: 15,028
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09-23-2008 16:54
From: Gabriele Graves You are wonderful Mo *hugs and a lil' nibble* You never lose your cool and are always cheerful in your responses  i fully concur with this summation (including the hugs and lil nibble) 
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it was fun while it lasted. http://2lf.informe.com/
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3Ring Binder
always smile
Join date: 8 Mar 2007
Posts: 15,028
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09-23-2008 16:55
From: Allegria Kanto Amara, many of your posts are poetry. Trust you to get to the heart of the matter, while we lesser mortals snip back and forth at each other. ...and this poem is lovely. this user type person agrees. 
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it was fun while it lasted. http://2lf.informe.com/
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Allegria Kanto
Trailing clouds of glory
Join date: 28 Nov 2007
Posts: 1,004
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09-23-2008 16:56
From: Gabriele Graves Not at all Allegria, in fact there are some of my own posted in this very thread  Yes, I enjoyed your poems very much... Just think of my comment as trolling for poetry-lovers. Heehee. P.S. One of my other favorites in The Wild Iris is "Witchgrass". Something comes into the world unwelcome calling disorder, disorder— If you hate me so much don’t bother to give me a name: do you need one more slur in your language, another way to blame one tribe for everything— as we both know, if you worship one god, you only need one enemy— I’m not the enemy. Only a ruse to ignore what you see happening right here in this bed, a little paradigm of failure. One of your precious flowers dies here almost every day and you can’t rest until you attack the cause, meaning whatever is left, whatever happens to be sturdier than your personal passion— It was not meant to last forever in the real world. But why admit that, when you can go on doing what you always do, mourning and laying blame, always the two together. I don’t need your praise to survive. I was here first, before you were here, before you ever planted a garden. And I’ll be here when only the sun and moon are left, and the sea, and the wide field. I will constitute the field.
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Let us pray that we ourselves cease to be the cause of suffering to each other. -- Thich Nhat Hahn
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3Ring Binder
always smile
Join date: 8 Mar 2007
Posts: 15,028
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09-23-2008 16:56
oooh... lookie at all the agreeing n smooching going on in here. a regular lovefest... i'll never leave!  ok, that's a fib. i'll leave.. but i won't take my heart with me. 
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it was fun while it lasted. http://2lf.informe.com/
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Brenda Connolly
Un United Avatar
Join date: 10 Jan 2007
Posts: 25,000
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09-23-2008 16:58
A somewhat obscure Sinatra song popped into my head earlier today, I spent an hour looking through my cd collection for it before I thought of youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwZOaYEdA0ACycles Writer: Gayle Caldwell So I'm down and so I'm out But so are many others So I feel like tryin' to hide My head 'neath these covers Life is like the seasons After winter comes the spring So I'll keep this smile awhile And see what tomorrow brings I've been told and I believe That life is meant for livin' And even when my chips are low There's still some left for givin' I've been many places Maybe not as far as you So I think I'll stay awhile And see if some dreams come true There isn't much that I have learned Through all my foolish years Except that life keeps runnin' in cycles First there's laughter, then those tears But I'll keep my head up high Although I'm kinda tired My gal just up and left last week Friday I got fired You know it's almost funny But things can't get worse than now So I'll keep on tryin' to sing But please, just don't ask me how
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Don't you ever try to look behind my eyes. You don't want to know what they have seen.
http://brenda-connolly.blogspot.com
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Amaranthim Talon
Voyager, Seeker, Curious
Join date: 14 Nov 2006
Posts: 12,032
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09-23-2008 17:20
From: Maureen Boccaccio Threadies, I just wanted tell you how much I enjoy your company, here in this thread, in other parts of the forums, on both sides of the street, and of course, inworld. I laugh, I cry, I groan, I am renewed. Awwweee.. 
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"Yield to temptation. It may not pass your way again. " Robert A. Heinlein  http://talonfaire.blogspot.com/ Visit Talon Faire Main: http://slurl.com/secondlife/Misto%20Presto/216/21/155- Main Store XStreets: http://tinyurl.com/6r7ayn
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 17:27
Mmmm I am really loving this poetry corner today, please everyone keep them coming  VV A Dream Within A Dream? Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep - while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? Edgar Allan Poe (1849)
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Amaranthim Talon
Voyager, Seeker, Curious
Join date: 14 Nov 2006
Posts: 12,032
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09-23-2008 17:33
From: Allegria Kanto Amara, many of your posts are poetry. Trust you to get to the heart of the matter, while we lesser mortals snip back and forth at each other. ...and this poem is lovely. Awwwe shucks... /me scrapes shoes in dirt lookin' bashful
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"Yield to temptation. It may not pass your way again. " Robert A. Heinlein  http://talonfaire.blogspot.com/ Visit Talon Faire Main: http://slurl.com/secondlife/Misto%20Presto/216/21/155- Main Store XStreets: http://tinyurl.com/6r7ayn
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Tod69 Talamasca
The Human Tripod ;)
Join date: 20 Sep 2005
Posts: 4,107
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09-23-2008 17:38
From: 3Ring Binder i meant my first internet game. some of those i have never heard of. This was loooooong before anyone heard of the Internet. 
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really pissy & mean right now and NOT happy with Life.
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 17:39
From: Tod69 Talamasca This was loooooong before anyone heard of the Internet.  hahaha don't be silly, there was nothing before the internet 
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Allegria Kanto
Trailing clouds of glory
Join date: 28 Nov 2007
Posts: 1,004
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09-23-2008 17:40
From: Gabriele Graves Mmmm I am really loving this poetry corner today, please everyone keep them coming  VV Your wish is my command, O Mistress of the Dark. I also love some of the shorter poems of F. Garcia Lorca, but only in the Spanish or in the right translation. Some translators treat poems very prosaically. I prefer Stephen Spender as translator, he has a very lyrical touch. Fittingly for Gabrielle, these shorter poems, or my favorites at least, are very dark. Gacela of the Dark Death I want to sleep the dream of the apples, to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries. I want to sleep the dream of that child who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas. I don't want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood, that the putrid mouth goes on asking for water. I don't want to learn of the tortures of the grass, nor of the moon with a serpent's mouth that labors before dawn. I want to sleep awhile, awhile, a minute, a century; but all must know that I have not died; that there is a stable of gold in my lips; that I am the small friend of the West wind; that I am the immense shadows of my tears. Cover me at dawn with a veil, because dawn will throw fistfuls of ants at me, and wet with hard water my shoes so that the pincers of the scorpion slide. For I want to sleep the dream of the apples, to learn a lament that will cleanse me of the earth; for I want to live with that dark child who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas. Federico García Lorca
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Let us pray that we ourselves cease to be the cause of suffering to each other. -- Thich Nhat Hahn
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Nika Talaj
now you see her ...
Join date: 2 Jan 2007
Posts: 5,449
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09-23-2008 17:42
Gabriele, that was lovely. Here's one of my favorites, for anyone who is a sailor, a father or a daughter:
MARINA (T.S. Eliot)
Quis hic locus, quae regio, quae mundi plaga?
What seas what shores what grey rocks and what islands What water lapping the bow And scent of pine and the woodthrush singing through the fog What images return O my daughter.
Those who sharpen the tooth of the dog, meaning Death Those who glitter with the glory of the hummingbird, meaning Death Those who sit in the sty of contentment, meaning Death Those who suffer the ecstasy of the animals, meaning Death
Are become insubstantial, reduced by a wind, A breath of pine, and the woodsong fog By this grace dissolved in place
What is this face, less clear and clearer The pulse in the arm, less strong and stronger— Given or lent? more distant than stars and nearer than the eye Whispers and small laughter between leaves and hurrying feet Under sleep, where all the waters meet.
Bowsprit cracked with ice and paint cracked with heat. I made this, I have forgotten And remember. The rigging weak and the canvas rotten Between one June and another September. Made this unknowing, half conscious, unknown, my own. The garboard strake leaks, the seams need caulking. This form, this face, this life Living to live in a world of time beyond me; let me Resign my life for this life, my speech for that unspoken, The awakened, lips parted, the hope, the new ships.
What seas what shores what granite islands towards my timbers And woodthrush calling through the fog My daughter.
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Amaranthim Talon
Voyager, Seeker, Curious
Join date: 14 Nov 2006
Posts: 12,032
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09-23-2008 17:43
Oh wow! I love Poe! (The Cask of Amontillado is a dark favorite, The Tell Tale Heart being a better known version of essentially the same story).
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; - And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and She was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love - I and my ANNABEL LEE - With a love that the wingéd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud by night Chilling my ANNABEL LEE; So that her high-born kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up, in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me; Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling And killing my ANNABEL LEE.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we - Of many far wiser than we - And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE: -
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE; And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride In her sepulchre there by the sea - In her tomb by the side of the sea.
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"Yield to temptation. It may not pass your way again. " Robert A. Heinlein  http://talonfaire.blogspot.com/ Visit Talon Faire Main: http://slurl.com/secondlife/Misto%20Presto/216/21/155- Main Store XStreets: http://tinyurl.com/6r7ayn
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Allegria Kanto
Trailing clouds of glory
Join date: 28 Nov 2007
Posts: 1,004
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09-23-2008 17:48
From: Nika Talaj Gabriele, that was lovely. Here's one of my favorites, for anyone who is a sailor, a father or a daughter:
MARINA (T.S. Eliot)
<snip> Wow, Nika.... I'm not familiar with this poem. Thank you, it really speaks to me. 
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Let us pray that we ourselves cease to be the cause of suffering to each other. -- Thich Nhat Hahn
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 17:49
Fabulous All  VV The world needs more poetry I think. Especially the darker kind 
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Allegria Kanto
Trailing clouds of glory
Join date: 28 Nov 2007
Posts: 1,004
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09-23-2008 17:56
One more... then I'm heading home from work. I could do this all night. Federico García Lorca Gacela of the Flight I have lost myself in the sea many times with my ear full of freshly cut flowers, with my tongue full of love and agony. I have lost myself in the sea many times as I lose myself in the heart of certain children. There is no one who in giving a kiss does not feel the smile of faceless people, and no one who in touching a newborn child forgets the motionless skulls of horses. Because the roses search in the forehead for a hard landscape of bone and the hands of man have no other purpose than to imitate the roots below the earth. As I lose myself in the heart of certain children, I have lost myself in the sea many times. Ignorant of the water I go seeking a death full of light to consume me. Translation from Spanish © Stephen Spender and J. L. Gili
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Let us pray that we ourselves cease to be the cause of suffering to each other. -- Thich Nhat Hahn
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Lexxi Gynoid
#'s 86000, 97800
Join date: 6 Aug 2007
Posts: 3,732
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09-23-2008 17:56
From: 3Ring Binder i meant my first internet game.
some of those i have never heard of. My first computer game was pong. First internet game was some MUD made by someone at my college way back when 12 people were on bulletin boards. First interactive 3D environment was Doom - the multiplayer version. I'd play that a lot while listening to the soundtrack of Top Gun. It calmed me for some reason.
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Her Royal Highness Buttercup Meow the XXI
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Gabriele Graves
Always and Forever, FULL
Join date: 23 Apr 2007
Posts: 6,205
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09-23-2008 18:00
My Last before I go for a while also... THE REMORSE OF THE DEAD by: Charles Baudelaire  SHADOWY Beauty mine, when thou shalt sleep In the deep heart of a black marble tomb; When thou for mansion and for bower shalt keep Only one rainy cave of hollow gloom; And when the stone upon thy trembling breast, And on thy straight sweet body's supple grace, Crushes thy will and keeps thy heart at rest, And holds those feet from their adventurous race; Then the deep grave, who shares my reverie, (For the deep grave is aye the poet's friend) During long nights when sleep is far from thee, Shall whisper: "Ah, thou didst not comprehend The dead wept thus, thou woman frail and weak"-- And like remorse the worm shall gnaw thy cheek.
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