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Post by dwarnold on Nov 22, 2006 5:51:37 GMT -5
I want to know the answer to the riddle...
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Post by carolion on Nov 22, 2006 9:42:48 GMT -5
I walked the World one day - it hasn't yet been too very long ago I walked the World and saw three things and now I'm here to tell you, and I'll not rest 'til I do. The first of all the things I saw was a mouse with a lion in its jaw. The second I saw, and listen here - 'twas a hunter hunted by a deer. The third - and now you must sit down, for I think you'll need the solid ground: the third was a woman in form of a tree who bore the fruits of humanity. These fruits were wonders, miraculous gifts: pine tree, white bird, and star-sailing ship. Riddle me, riddle me, riddle me reeeee---- And what is the meaning I've given to thee? OK - I've been wondering myself, since I just channeled this riddle in the moment. I've been thinking on and off - what does this thing mean? That's the thing about invisible Druid teachers - you never know what they'll throw your way. These answers are guesses. Anyone can guess - I do not know what the "correct" answers are. So here are my guesses: 1.The Mouse with the Lion in its jaws: might be the Higher Self [still small Voice of God] which has won its battle with the ego [personality-centric thought and behavior] 2. The Hunter, hunted by a Deer: might be Humanity being "hunted" [think of C.S. Lewis' "hounds of Heaven", here] by Divine Love, or God. 3. The Woman in form of Tree, bearing the Fruits of Humanity: might be Feminine spiritual power, sometimes thought of as the "Tree of Life." 4. The Fruits of Humanity: might be those "Fruits of the Spirit" that our Jessie always reminded us of......or they might be related to certain attainments Buddhist seekers achieve, or Rosicrucians or - anyway, something like that. A. Pine Tree: could be the Christmas Tree, surrounded by gifts and headed by a Star / Angel = Light; or maybe the White Pine that represents the Plan For Peace brought to humankind by the Great Peacemaker, Deganawida....Or many other Pine Tree connections others might know of... B. White Bird: any of us would think of the Dove of Peace here. But there are a number of other White Birds which mean a great deal to us - Swan [Leta, or the Swans that were the Children of Lir], White Owl of Athena, White Eagle, White Raven [master shaman]....All White creatures are considered to belong to the Goddess.... C. Star-Sailing Ship: I don't know. Star Trek/Star Wars - well, could be....could be Peter Pan hijacking Captain Hook's ship for that matter....But for some reason, for me, "Star-Sailing Ship" is the Heart that has mastered the ability to BE in True Love always, with no human object or partner - Be In-Love-With-God. In that case, for me, the "Star-Sailing-Ship" is the Heartmind that has been fully and truly activated to "walk in Beauty", assisting in the creation of Good in every moment, simply by just BEing.
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Post by mike on Nov 22, 2006 12:44:04 GMT -5
I Want to Live Until I'm Too Old to DanceI want to live until I'm too old to dance, like a fountain that's bubbled its last drops, let me flow-- into an ocean, into the sea. I want to live until all my skin has wrinkled and my hair has grayed into a fifty-cent piece with John F. Kennedy still smiling. I want to live until I creak when I walk and I'll walk all over the Universe singing "We shall overcome!" while my lungs burst like a glycerin bubble. Let's bubble ourselves all over and live forever as we sail in a sieve gone to sea. OK, this is obviously a well written poem, but, I was thinking to myself something is different about it. It came to me later, in my sleep while I was having my usual dreams about her; Slb2 normally writes about other people, this poem is, I think, written about herself. Tell me that I'm right about this, Slb2, or I'll just burst like a glycerin bubble. Well, I must get back to sleep, back to my dreams... Zzzz Mike
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Post by slb2 on Nov 22, 2006 22:48:45 GMT -5
OK, this is obviously a well written poem, but, I was thinking to myself something is different about it. It came to me later, in my sleep while I was having my usual dreams about her; Slb2 normally writes about other people, this poem is, I think, written about herself. Tell me that I'm right about this, Slb2, or I'll just burst like a glycerin bubble. Well, I must get back to sleep, back to my dreams... Zzzz Mike Color me red. <ahem> your dreams, Mike? (Actually, I'm tot'ly chuffed! So, color me pink, too.) I guess that the poem is personal. I was intrigued by the thread, (I wrote this on another List) and just started to write. I do think about growing old, often. And how I want to live for a very long time because I have so much to do and I'm enjoying doing it. Possibly, Mike, I haven't shared many of my elegies, because those are ALL personal (almost) and told in the first person. Thanks for noticing this poem, sweetie-chan. I like it, but it's a first draft, so I'd like to go back and work on a few spots. What am I doing in your dreams, anyway?
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Post by mike on Nov 23, 2006 1:28:55 GMT -5
Dreams can be so vivid. Do I dream in black and white, or techna color? I can't remember. Mike
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Post by mike on Nov 25, 2006 2:54:06 GMT -5
There is a Chinese pepper tree, In my backyard As the winter wind blows, The leaves shimmer... they shake Such leaves, they never break
The sky, from where I sit, Is pastel gray, or is it grey? A touch of blue, a spot of gold Autumn colors tend to be, So bold, I must be getting old
It all happens so fast One minute you're born, tootin', Your horn Then, you're passing gas Pass the bottle, Thank you
There's a moment, when we know The things that mean anything are, Part of the show So we sing Sinatra's The the summer wind That's
The summer wind
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Post by slb2 on Nov 27, 2006 14:01:24 GMT -5
Chin Hair
I watched my mother pluck hairs standing in the cast of sunlight on the basement stairs
so, you'd think I would've known what's coming. Still, I hate these chin hairs.
Tweezing takes too much time and waxing is a sticky ordeal that collects fuzz from my sweater
and chafes my skin. I've tried using my husband's razor, but that leaves stubble.
I do not want stubble. Men have stubble, day-old,
two-day-old stubble. Women have smooth velvety cheeks.
Not stubble. And I've used depilatories only to wake the next morning
with a chin rough enough to sand woodwork. So I've come
to the conclusion that women have facial hair just like men.
And damn the vanity. The only thing that marks me from manhood,
is just exactly that-- His manhood.
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Post by mike on Nov 28, 2006 7:08:00 GMT -5
As usual, Slb2, you paint a very, very, vivid picture.
Mike
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Post by carolion on Nov 30, 2006 7:09:19 GMT -5
Yesterday, called Home Old One leaving soon, she thought Memories of chores....
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Post by mike on Dec 1, 2006 4:15:26 GMT -5
Life is a pain - If you don't want it
Looking away from an unhappy man's eyes Avoiding the gaze of an unhappy woman Reducing the risk of sympathetic pain What's your's is yours -- Let's keep that plain
I've got my problems, I don't need yours I don't have any problems, But now I'm unsure. Exposure is, Undoubtedly a risk -- to bliss Please dear God, give me a near miss
Laughter is escaping at an ozone depleting rate What was once a gas, is not Never mind that people wear no pants I don't understand Best chalk it up to -- the 2006 family plan
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Post by carolion on Dec 1, 2006 8:27:42 GMT -5
Life is a pain - If you don't want it Never mind that people wear no pants Sounds like time for kilts and saffrongs......or perhaps that towel?!
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Post by dwarnold on Dec 1, 2006 13:07:50 GMT -5
I woke this morning thinking of you. How I long again for your moist lips and soft skin The scent of your perfume lingering as I nestle my face In the crook of your neck and your hair So soft and wispy falling against the pillow.
I woke this morning thinking of you. How your laughter can brighten the darkest of days And your tender touch can cure any wound Like the time we were walking down the beach and You ran ahead because you saw a bird laying there And as you stroked its long neck it seemed to come to life and Find the strength to lift its wings and fly again.
I woke this morning thinking of you. Anger and frustration mark my days now But you were never one to feel that way You saw each moment as being special And no challenge was too great Nor would you see anyone in a negative light.
I woke this morning thinking of you. Why can the best of times suddenly turn into the worst? What forces of nature conspire to take away love and Leave us as broken shells devoid of life? And yet as I cherish your memory within my heart I cannot help but feel you touch my face one more time and say “Love me with all your heart and soul and being as I will love you for eternity”.
I hope I wake tomorrow morning thinking of you.
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Post by slb2 on Dec 1, 2006 13:21:46 GMT -5
wow, dwarnold. if that's from experience, you've really exposed yourself in a vulnerable and beautiful way.
thanks for sharing. I love the repetition.
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Post by mike on Dec 1, 2006 13:34:12 GMT -5
Double wow! dwarnold.
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Post by carolion on Dec 1, 2006 18:08:30 GMT -5
Dw, the grace of suffering's wisdom. Thank you, Waiting-For-Spring Tree.
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Post by Gracie on Dec 1, 2006 22:01:56 GMT -5
I woke this morning thinking of you. How I long again for your moist lips and soft skin The scent of your perfume lingering as I nestle my face In the crook of your neck and your hair So soft and wispy falling against the pillow. I woke this morning thinking of you. How your laughter can brighten the darkest of days And your tender touch can cure any wound Like the time we were walking down the beach and You ran ahead because you saw a bird laying there And as you stroked its long neck it seemed to come to life and Find the strength to lift its wings and fly again. I woke this morning thinking of you. Anger and frustration mark my days now But you were never one to feel that way You saw each moment as being special And no challenge was too great Nor would you see anyone in a negative light. I woke this morning thinking of you. Why can the best of times suddenly turn into the worst? What forces of nature conspire to take away love and Leave us as broken shells devoid of life? And yet as I cherish your memory within my heart I cannot help but feel you touch my face one more time and say “Love me with all your heart and soul and being as I will love you for eternity”. I hope I wake tomorrow morning thinking of you. How beautiful this is, and how heartfelt. There is nothing that melts me more than the realization that men can feel as deeply and tenderly as women do. That hasn't always been my experience, and it is so lovely to find sensitivity in a man's poetry. Thank you for sharing this lyrical piece of love.
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Post by juliastar on Dec 1, 2006 23:13:20 GMT -5
My Mom always told me to watch out for the quiet ones.
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Post by mike on Dec 2, 2006 8:41:22 GMT -5
Remember when, we used to love That kind of love, with fire, With, hell to pay Laughing in each others face Walking home together Remember
Remember when, I followed you I listened, I learned You taught me what it meant To be fortunate What being told, being special, Was We drank from the same coffee cup
The music played, we danced We played, wildly We all played, the songs of joy We were young We were strong And, now, when I look into the face of hell Well... we're still swell
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Post by carolion on Dec 2, 2006 12:42:31 GMT -5
You taught me what it meant To be fortunate and still learnable/teachable, yes!
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Post by mike on Dec 2, 2006 19:37:54 GMT -5
You taught me what it meant To be fortunate and still learnable/teachable, yes! Carolion, if you ask my wife, there's a 50/50 chance of hearing the word "Yes". There's an old saying: When one is ready to learn, the teacher will appear. For me, the teachers may not appear as frequently as they should, but they still do make the occasional visit. Warm regards, Mike
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Post by carolion on Dec 2, 2006 20:24:28 GMT -5
I just always get a littl *kick* out of those "warm regards."
Here are some more ****s to sprinkle aroud, Dear M.
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Post by mike on Dec 4, 2006 7:08:43 GMT -5
Carolion, I get a kick out of you!
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Post by carolion on Dec 4, 2006 23:02:06 GMT -5
I'm ba-ack...All toasty from sitting by my woodstove poking up the fire while hangin' out on my cell phone. Flames are so entrancing.
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Post by mike on Dec 17, 2006 5:53:27 GMT -5
The wind blew hard all day It was maddening... I was mad Not sure when it stopped, I was that far gone I no longer belonged
Somewhere between the end of a bottle, Of Syrah And the end of American Idol I heard, a single violin player What a wind slayer
The notes descended from the stars Thin, long, and winding through, The cold It surrounded the dark sleet covered trees This violin player, dropped me to my knees
I knew how bad things could be I should have listened, so that, She would have fallin in love with me But now I'm cold and must go to sleep Thankfully, the violin player can count my sheep
Good night
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Post by slb2 on Dec 17, 2006 6:00:38 GMT -5
Mike, for three and a half stanzas, you had me in rapt attention. Go back and finish, babe.
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Post by mike on Dec 17, 2006 6:12:14 GMT -5
Sorry, Slb2, the Syrah was finished before I was. Maybe next time the inspiration will survive longer than the wine.
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Post by mike on Dec 29, 2006 5:29:17 GMT -5
If I chased Tillie, across the equator I might get thirsty It would be, Worth the endeavor Oh waiter... Your best Champagne Oh Tillie I can't refrain
Let's drink a glass of, bubbles! Wash away, All our troubles For at least... Tonight!
Love, love... yes, love
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Post by hartlikeawheel on Dec 29, 2006 7:12:27 GMT -5
At least love Hold my hart a little while It's good.
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Post by booklady on Dec 29, 2006 19:16:32 GMT -5
Anybody here read any of Arthur Rimbaud?
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Post by joew on Dec 29, 2006 19:47:49 GMT -5
The guy for whom Stallone's soldier character is named?
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