When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.  

                                   William Butler Yeats

 

Lovely idea Fleur! Lovely poem also.

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I hope I will not be stoned for speaking of a  favourite little story in the "fourth Grade Reader" but I love it and think of it often, especially when Peter and I married with 5 young kids like the Brady Bunch, and buying a new home etc.

Does anyone remember the story of "Stone Soup"

 

          

 

Every old shed’s got a bloke like me,
I’m usually found by the door.
My cigarette smoke lines the roof of the shed,
My crumpled akubra near swallows my head,
All I am is my stories, the smoke that you see,
And the piles of ash on the floor.

I have no real title or job to perform,
I speak when I want you to hear.
I lean on a broom but I don’t ever sweep,
I wake up at four and by four I’m asleep,
I’m a remnant of days before union reform,
So they pay me with smokes, tea and beer.

The mornings I’m always hung over and down,
The rest is my memories it seems.
Like the time that I shore three hundred or more, 
Or the day that I knocked the boss clean out the door,
The young fella’s listen, but stare at the ground,
As I recall my half drunken dreams.

I know that there’s pity in the young shearer’s eyes,
But I talk and pretend not to see.
For the yarns that I give are half lies and half true,
But they’ll become their memories and their stories too,
And that way this old shearer never quite dies
‘Cause each shed’s got an old bloke like me.

                             Andrew Hull

 

 

 

FROM MARI

 

   

 

What if you slept? And what if,
In your sleep
You dreamed?
And what if,
In your dream,
You went to heaven
And there plucked
A strange and
Beautiful flower?
And what if,
When you awoke,
You had the flower in your hand?
Ah, what then?

                                   Sanmuel Coldridge

 

MardrykaMay 27, 2013meaningless.

So far, every word you said has been all but one thing: meaningless.
So far, we’ve gone through everything but it has all been but one thing: meaningless.

To this day I’ve meant every measly word I said, and it has all been but one thing: meaningless. 
To this day I’m not perfect, but I gave everything I had and it was all but one thing: meaningless. 

Until now, we felt everything and those feelings have been all but one thing: meaningless.
Until now, we spent every minute together and they have been all but one thing: meaningless.

But now we are nothing, and we are, in every sense of the word: meaningless...

For foxy and Phyll 

 

Never give up.
Never regret.
Never back down.
Never forget.
Never run.
Never hide.
Never upset.
Never abide.

Oh what's love got to do, got to do with it

What's love but a second hand emotion

What's love got to do, got to do with it

Who needs a heart

When a heart can be broken

The song that once I dreamed about,

The tender, touching thing,

As radiant as a rose without,

The love of wind and wing;

The perfect verses, to the tune,

Of woodland music set,

As beautiful as the afternoon,

Remain unwritten yet.

 

A verse from one of my favourite poets. Henry Kendall

SD

Lovely words:-

Micha

Mari

Fleur

Pete.

Shaggy Dog.

_________________________

Peter and my favourite song with words like Poetry is:-

_________________________

And I love you so
The people ask me how
How I've lived 'til now
I tell them I don't know

I guess they understand
How lonely life has been
But life began again
The day you took my hand

And yes, I know how lonely life can be
The shadows follow me and the night won't set me free
But I don't let the evening get me down
Now that you're around me

And you love me too
Your thoughts are just for me
You set my spirits free
I'm happy that you do

The book of life is brief
And once the page is read
All but love is dead
This is my belief

And yes, I know how lonely life can be
The shadows follow me and the night won't set me free
But I don't let the evening get me down
Now that you're around me

SONGWRITERS
MCLEAN, DON

p.s....

 

  

Ah we're drinking and we're dancing
And the band is really happening
And the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
She's the Angel of Compassion
She's rubbing half the world against her thigh
And every drinker every dancer
Lifts a happy face to thank her
The fiddler fiddles something so sublime
All the women tear their blouses off
And the men they dance on the polka-dots
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
It's CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
And the men they dance on the polka-dots
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
And it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ao0BdtZr2_M&autoplay=1

 

my favourite

Phyl,

Sung rather well by Matt Monroe as I recall.

SD

Sorry wrong song 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?autoplay=1&v=7-0lV5qs1Qw

One of my all time favourites :

 

           

On Friendship
 Kahlil Gibran

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.


And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.