Shades of Gray from Grayson Co, TX #793 – DRAGONFLY!

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The Dragonfly

Now, when my roses are half buds, half flowers,
And loveliest, the king of flies has come-
It was a fleeting visit, all too brief;
In three short minutes he has seen them all,
And rested, too, upon an apple tree.

There, his round shoulders humped with emeralds,
A gorgeous opal crown set on his head,
And all those shining honours to his breast-
‘My garden is a lovely place’ thought I,
‘But is it worthy of such a guest?’

He rested there, upon the apple leaf-
‘See, see,’ I cried amazed, ‘his opal crown,
And all those emeralds clustered around his head!’
‘His breast, my dear, how lovely was his breast-’
The voice of my Beloved quickly said.

‘See, see his gorgeous crown, that shines
With all those jewels bulging round its rim-’
I cried aloud at night, in broken rest.
Back came the answer quickly, in my dream-
‘His breast, my dear, how lovely was his breast!’

This poem, originally composed byWelsh poet W.H. Davies in 1928, was the inspiration and lyrical source for the song ‘Dragonfly’ written by Danny Kirwan in 1970 while he was still in Fleetwood Mac.  This was the transitional period of the band, when founder Peter Green had gone nuts and left, Christine McVie had just joined, and Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks were still a few years away.

The song itself is very beautiful and, for me at least, very entrancing.  Danny adjusted the lyrics, wrote the music, sang and played all of the guitar parts on the record. Shortly after this he also went into a drug-induced exile and was last heard to be living on the streets of London.

more on the sad yet full life of Davies:

 

monos en theos…†…jim

IMAGES OF SMALL THINGS FROM THE BIGGEST COUNTY IN TEXAS #620 – THE SWING!

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The Swing

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

How do you like to go up in a swing,
   Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
   Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
   Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
   Over the countryside—
Till I look down on the garden green,
   Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
   Up in the air and down!
As a child I had a worn dog eared copy of A Child’s Garden of Verses. I loved the places to which Mr Stevenson’s words could take me. Sometimes not even away from the safety of my own backyard, but it instilled in me a love of the power of verse and words. Not to mention the reinforced magic of things from which we never grow away.
Enjoy the power of verse today or go swing. Either way find some magic. ††† en theos †††jimwork

IMAGES OF SMALL THINGS FROM THE BIGGEST COUNTY IN TEXAS #605 – SHADOW PORTRAIT AND POEM

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LINGER WITH YOUR SHADOWS

The air grows cooler as the sun draws closer.

Days grow shorter and the shadows lengthen

When it was much earlier at the same time of day

our shadows were closer

not quite so far away.

No wrinkles or signs of age

just me, wife and our dogs as we linger

We move yet a little slower

and our shadows grow even longer

moving as fast now as if it was yesterday.      jim work

Try and linger just a bit with the ones you love  ††† en theos ††† jim

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Photos on the journey #454

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A Tree in the Desert

A tree in the desert thirsts for water
A tree in the desert gets too much sun
A tree in the desert is alone in the freezing night
A tree in the desert might never be seen
A tree in the desert might never be touched
A tree in the desert may or may not thrive
A tree in the desert struggles to stay alive

Leo Valencia
Gee, do you think there is any symbolism between the tree & me??? en theos ††† jlawrence

Photos on the journey #404

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Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer
I remember this poem from early in my elementary school days, I had always wrongfully assumed with the name “Joyce”, that the poem was pined by a woman.  In surfing for the poem, author and such, I found that Joyce Kilmer was very much a man, a true man’s man. Check out his biography and never judge a man totally by his words. Sometimes the bravest of us carries the gentlest words, and vice versa……….en theos†††jim