“If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.” - Winnie the Pooh
bajanblueSpeightstown, Saint Peter Barbados3,724 posts
Along the riverbank under the trees, I discover footprints! Even under the fragrant grass I see his prints. Deep in the remote mountains they are found. These traces no morecan be hidden than one's noselooking heavenward.
We tell ourselves stories in order to live.... We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the "ideas" with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.
This is a poem I posted under another user name. I also posted the one above. But....I decided to change my user name. What can I say.........I'm fickle.
'The Faery's Dance'
Hear the laughter All into the night See the splendor What a wonderful sight!
Songs of great joy Ring through the air See the faery dance So lovely and fair
Her garment made of leaves Silver hair cascading down Movements so graceful Her feet make no sound
She dances 'til early dawn Then steps through the mists Into that otherworldly realm Land of happiness and bliss
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