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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Persistence pays off in the end - unless contrary to the old proverb
(a lesson one should heed)...
"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
Then quit. There's no point in being a damn fool about it." wink
-W. C. Fields
...j/k...
“The best way out is always through.”
― Robert Frost

Courage doesn't always roar
Sometimes courage is a quiet little voice
At the end of the day
Saying I will try again tomorrow.
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David Autumns
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

LOL biggrin

Right one half of that Moon is clear overhead

I'm off to take my Canon for a drive to a very dark high plateau in deepest Yorkshire.

I'll be back
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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Have fun..drop bread crumbs to find your way home. wink
Bring back pics, pen and posts, my friend....
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David Autumns
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

straight from the camera no tricks no edits

http://www.theglobalthermometer.com/wcg/neat.jpg

absolutely freezing - next time gloves and a woolly hat
Just the sound of birds quarrelling broke the complete peace
No cars, nobody, just that magnificent sky.

I need to look out farther but also closer
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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

No need for tricks when connecting lunar purity with its many faces.
The stunning stillness....A wonderful capture!

“And he beholds the moon; like a rounded fragment of ice filled with
motionless light.”
― Gustave Flaubert

And this lovely quote I found ...
The sun sees your body, the moon sees your soul.
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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

UNDER A TELEPHONE POLE

I AM a copper wire slung in the air,
Slim against the sun I make not even a clear line of shadow.
Night and day I keep singing--humming and thrumming:
It is love and war and money; it is the fighting and the
tears, the work and want,
Death and laughter of men and women passing through
me, carrier of your speech,
In the rain and the wet dripping, in the dawn and the
shine drying,
A copper wire.

Carl Sandburg
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David Autumns
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

As a Telecoms Engineer .. there is a reason why I do it :-)

I went for a brief visit here today





It was typical Bronte Weather all bleak and windswept and Heathcliff

I had a quick peek through one of the Parsonage's Windows but I don't think the Brontesaurus.


(Sorry it was just there for the taking blushing)

Sadly the town of Haworth is now a parody of itself. Almost embarrassingly so. Looking forward to some brighter weather when I can get up and out on the moors
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[Edit 1 times, last edit by David Autumns at Mar 16, 2014 8:28:31 PM]
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David Autumns
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

"Sealed with a loving kiss."

As I stood on that Platform, alone, with the dawn chorus
I tried to catch hold of the warmth of a thousand love letters
As the mail train rushed through.
All too briefly
It was gone.
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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

"Sealed with a loving kiss"
...How a few words can convey their message...
(I remember licking envelopes and writing SWAK across the flap.) smile

"A pile of old letters
lay forgotten in an attic,
letters written long ago
in the bloom of someone'€™s youth.
They were tied with a pink ribbon
and kept preciously
by someone I do not know.
Each letter spoke of love,
the yearning of being apart,
and how good it would feel
to be home once again.
How wonderful it would be
back in loves arms again
away from a terrible war
that had to part them too quickly
shortly after their wedding day.
They spoke of plans for their future
and how their love would grow.
They would start afresh
at the beginnings of the first snow.
Each letter was sealed with a kiss
that was there for all to see.
It told the story of unbroken love
that would live on through every tragedy
and sealed with a kiss.
The last letter in the pile
was tear stained and edged in black.
It told the story
that her lover never came back."
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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

but I don't think the Brontesaurus blushing

biggrin
No less than a dandy brontesaurus would romp those literary halls,
don't you agree? wink

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He still may leave thy garland green.

-Emily Brontë
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