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These Nature Work poems are examples of Nature poems about Work. These are the best examples of Nature Work poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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I left my heart in a magical place. A place that holds years of wonder and awe. A place that knows me better than any other place I've been. This place has changed me and molded me into the person I am now. The forests, trees, creeks, and open skies instilled in me a love for God's works. The harshness of the winters has taught me to be patient and to endure. My small town is where I learned the small-town work ethic; you don't get what you don't earn and earning what you want takes a little bit of sweat and tears. Here I learned that you don't have to be blood to be family. Brothers and sisters are made throughout years of school together. We relied on each other to be happy. This place will forever hold my heart and soul. I am a small town girl through and through. It's who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO for shaping me into something more than I was.
Springs around the corner what wondrous things we'll see, bulbs popping up above the ground giving joy to you and me, time to tidy up our plot, lots of digging too, weeds to pull, beds to hoe lots of things will have to go. You have to be a little brave if that rose you want to save, but you will learn that over time you've got to be cruel, just to be kind, The flower beds need a tidy take all that dead stuff off the top, veg plots being well dug over hoping for a bumper crop. Seeds to sow, hope they'll grow ! then the lawn will need a mow. And when all the hard work is done you can sit back and be pleased, wind , rain and sun you have grown all you need.
The Color Missing Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people's mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death. 'But what about the Green pens?' I ask. They say 'the ink is too hard to see.'
Sometimes I admire the littlest things A simple rock. A blade of grass. They need no future goals, no tax exemptions They don't need to go anywhere or be anything They just are. Sometimes, especially when I'm reading life insurance policies, I envy the rocks and the grass And try to be like them for a moment. I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind- And it whispers in my ear: Just be. And for that moment I don't need to go anywhere or be anything. And at the snap of my fingers, All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind. Jacob Reinhardt 10/07/13
The Prospector: He packs his tack in a great canvas sack And then drives away in his car. Nobody cries as they wave their goodbyes; They will await his return from afar. When he reaches the track he will find his way back With his GPS tuned to a star. The stories are told how he travels the road With constant anticipation, He ignores the snakes as he hammers in stakes, On the boundary of his location This man has gone bush, and he shows no rush To return to civilization. This modern-gold seeker, with a stick and a beeper That creates echoes to his ears from the ground. On his own, he unpacks his gear from his sacks, He's left family and friends in the town. Now the bush replaces their loving embraces With an encompassing sky and a peaceful surround. The look on his face shows nary a trace Of emotion as he unpacks his gear. He sets up his camp, and primes his lamp, Lights fire, and watches a dingo draw near. Staring into the embers, he starts to remember Other campsites like the one he has here. He wakes in the morning, stretching and yawning As he extracts his bones from the ground. His muscles will strengthen as the days lengthen While he walks the grid; listening to sounds. Bright are his eyes, as he unearths the prize His detector, signals it there to be found. When his eyes behold the nugget of gold As he digs in the earth for this prize They sparkle and shine as he takes out his twine, Knotted, for measurement of size. The tail of his shirt removes unwanted dirt And hessian covers rock from prying eyes As he looks to the ground; there is more to be found! Shards that catch the bright setting sun. He puts some in a pot, then marks this fine spot, So he can find it again when he's done. For the task of recording his find in the morning, He must leave; he feels he should run. From the past he has learned, he knows he'll return After the assayer sees what's in his sack. There is quiet celebration, with this revelation As he phones his partner to say she should pack. They both go to sign on the dotted line, Then together they travel the track back. Wordancer
Like sick allergies, Boredom can be passed around I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE Like a horrid storm, Boredom can catch you off guard Hold on for DEAR LIFE! Like the whooping cough, Boredom can be serious If I were you, I'd Get a vaccination !
"There is a time for each season… To everything made… There is a divine reason. A time for purpose under the heavens above… A time for meaning from a God of love. A time to be born. A time to die… A time to farm the ground under the beautiful sky. A time to kill. A time to heal... A time to tear down and to build up with a passion and zeal A time for weeping. A time for laughing… A time to mourn. A time for dancing. A time to keep... A time to throw away. A time to tear. A time to make amends today. A time to get. A time for losing… A time to keep. And to give away at our choosing. A time for silence. A time to speak… A time for each hour and day of the week. A time for love. A time for hate… A time for war. A time for peace at your gate. How will you spend the time God has given to you? What is your choice? What will you do??? May this be a time living in God's purpose and design. He created you and made everything beautiful in his time! By Jim Pemberton 05/22/10 Read Eccl. 3:1-11
I can not help but wonder When God created the earth How did He think of all the things It takes to make it work I know God is God And He knows all things But the things I've been a witness to How do they work I mean The lava boils deep in the earth Why does it need to leave And when it does break through the crust It becomes a volcano to us It has destroyed all in its path What of the hole it leaves behind The cavity eventually caves in And then the mountains do begin Mean while the surface heals itself The wind and rain step in The soils that are blown and washed in Help heal the scars again What of the ash from the volcano As it infiltrates the air As it settles it brings death Such as ASH FALL in Nebraska Where the rhino's met their end And what of the earth quakes As the earth seems to shake in pain The cracks that they leave behind Form gullies and ravines The oil, the gas, the silver, the gold The floods, the tornados, the drouths, the cold Fires caused by lightenings sting Are all under Mother Natures wing The animals before man's time Lived and died as was designed And still the earth went on and on And healed it self from dusk to dawn And now that man is here It has to work harder It is there to heal the wounds That man seems to father Then we have the food chain Land and water both provide And if man doesn't watch his step Fathom waits outside Now and then it does rebel It gets the upper hand Tornados, blizzards, hurricanes Volcanos and desert sand The scars the wars do leave Mother Nature does her best If only we'd learn to live in peace She could take a rest And all the stupid things man does Like building homes along a high cliff Then when Mother Nature does her thing Bet you can guess who takes the blame The heavens, the earth were made by God, And for eons they did survive Then God created man, If they don't work side by side Neither of them will abide I guess I answered my own question I just had to use my brain Thank You God for all Your help I hope it's not in vain
Deep within the bowels of the earth a pressure builds up in intensity As lava and gases increase in growth bubbling and seething with angry fury The pressure continues to build up directly under the earth's crust Which finally weakens and blows its top yielding to the pressure's upward thrust The action produces a huge crater through which ferocious flames exit Painting the sky in a red orange colour in an awesome fiery exhibit It's a grand display of fireworks power generated by Mother Nature Which reaches out both near and far in testimony of its grandeur Clouds of ash and smoke rise up to the sky spreading for miles and miles around Obscuring vision both far and nigh before most of the ash falls to the ground A thick outpouring of red hot lava scorches everything that lies in its path Streaming down the sides of the crater as it moves on with relentless wrath Volcanic action has an awesome tale to tell of what goes on under earth's placid shell It's where red hot lava and gases dwell which when released create a fiery hell
...Formidable treat he stress At the early hour of this day. No pain, no gain- All is still well. Centenary dream is a luxury few can reach. Yours truly, let your fate decide. _____________________________________ 30th of April, 2013.
Lookin' after pests Keepin' a CLOSE eye on 'em "Those wild animals!" Roamin' around zoo Searchin' for sneaky monkey Hidin' in a tree Zookeeper gets mad "Where's Marty, the smartypants!?" "He TOOK my cage keys!"
The wind blew events all over the place. Intense emotions and it gave chase. Lightning lighting to show us the sky. People try to sleep and not cry. Wisping by the wind keeps us awake. The time trying to sleep the storms take. Chills in everyone gives all shiver. The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver. Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop. The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop. People have seen such devastation. The road that people made was week in creation. Rivers near by was over flowing. Trees that were there was not showing. By the hour it claimed many. My father woke up and did not see any. Floating by was a boat. Keeping people above water and a float. My father kept a canoe. That some day we would use it, that he knew. Time to paddle up and down the street. The rain water kept getting on our seat. It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud. Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud. The smell of moist water never seem to go away. My brothers seem to still sleep anyway. My head was bobbing up and down. I was so tired that I could not hear a sound. The wind blew back and fourth. It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth. Till all the people we saw with grace. Help us out with embrace. The time was so late at night. Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight. The fight with the weather was so hectic. The feelings of energy was electric. Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand. When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand. With hard workers like my mom and dad. They make things happen that is not bad. Rough with weather they experience more than ever. Leaders they are they are very clever. From the night light of street lights to the morning glow. The wind did not stop so. Bringing in more clouds that ill. The people who were still tired still had will. The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side. Pushing and the force brought water inside. The battle of our hour was getting long. Backup people came to aid us was strong. Rested they were to keep everyone with hope. The people stopped the water with the strength of rope. Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together. It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather. Chaos comes happiness how true. This is why we are human that gives us a clue. It is our nature to keep rain falling. To know when it is time for our calling. The winds bring such pain and sorrow. That is why rain sometimes fallow.
ONE five-minute break at work playing games, mistake exaggerated butterfly dreams cease cocoon gone in a heartbeat catepillar weeps 8/5/12 For Russell's "Two Worlds Colliding" contest Black Eyed Susan
Wagari Maathai, Boldness,eagerness,harmless Was for a benefit, Through melancholy, You paved in, To nail down the, Green glamor. You turned into waterworks, When the cut down Was on process. Jubilant than ever when germination flourished. Likes tots You looked after, To see none but their growth, The nourishment you fought for, Regardless of the circumstances. Down to your end, Still showed your solicitude that the woes came directly from your heart. Weeps, for our well being, wails, to ensure we received raindrops. Confidently you battled, To ensure no dry day approached. Your deeds reached accross generation, A total mother of nature, A legend never to be forgotten. We will live to remember Your wonderful work.ag
A day in the country I went to the country To see my Bro's Land I saw he had worked hard His land looked so grand For a second this envy It tapped on my soul But then I looked deeper Saw things as a whole! I looked at his features All the lines on his face Not character lines Those lines that add grace Just sad saggy lines From worry and stress There was naught in his manner That read happiness. I'm a loser to his type I have no ambition I live for today He lives for his mission But I have a smile And a generous heart While he, how I see him Is a grumpy old fart. 10 August 2013 @ 1700hrs
This is a script to read again Its wordings are clear- no blunder Each page on its own is a sane It has distinct words to ponder I'm yet to find its replacement This is a script to read again It's obvious in its endowment A script fit beyond thousand reigns With what I've seen, I've much to gain Those about lives before our own This is a script to read again Can any author beat this Lone? In everything it's just the star I think its lost can't be regain It's the same here and in Dakar This is a script to read again. 28/5/2013
Get-go scrupulous attention, live to cornucopia, Coherence in familial bonds must ever stay, Romantic evening is reminiscent of happier times, Are the ones standing by you on your final day! Guileless life, a battlefield of every Titan, For evolution of the race, you ought to play, Contentious hard work makes it iridescent, Hypothecate moulding for betterment as if in clay! Sun gifted you its brightest sunshine, Fragrance added through each breathful air, Brew your friends well for a perfect wine, Appreciate nature add up to a day's debonair!! Life is fugacious yet addicting, its secrets camouflage, Adopt blithesome attitude, risible for a hearty laugh !! Written by - Dr Upma Sharma Contest name- Take two Sponsor- Nette onclaud On 03/4/14 Previously entered into Shakespearian Sonnet competition sponsored by Karen Puff, Written actually on 26/1/14
It was just another December day Not cool yet - due to global warming they say I'd taken leave and was feeling restless at home A bit depressed and all alone Stepping outdoors would do me good Walking some miles would change my mood As I stepped outside and turned right The sun was bright and gradually reaching its height Past the kids I walked, who were out at play And headed for the busy highway Walking along the asphalt road Past the hospital crowd of anxious faces of young and old Crossing giant pillars rising from the ground Supporting prefab blocks and tracks on which carriages would move around Changing gradient and plunging underground Carrying masses to work or passengers homeward bound Not finding my rhythm, I retraced my steps And headed west, to a lake which comforted me in bygone days The park around lay ravaged by our man made ways Trees which survived and construction equipment were cloaked in a dusty haze The Metro eventually would connect the city's east to the west For now, winter's migratory birds have forsaken this haven of roost and rest And we are anxiously awaiting this work to end Allow time for Mother Nature to heal and mend
There is a brush of wind sweeping roughshod over the shore Festering foamy white caps on the crest of the waves Disembodied voices I think I've heard before Are rising from the mist of the liquid haze White-feathered angel wings spreading wide and low Swoop down below the angry crimson wide Welcoming home the trollers, row by weary row As the beacon skims the waters, and the coming of the tide The sun is clinging helplessly, on the edges of the earth As one last vessel, trudges in, looking worn and spent Lagging far behind, and longing home and hearth Yet with sense of work well done, after long day's sweat, It burrows in, at end of day, from all those travels, far The one last vessel, weary worn, cuts a furrow in the stars For Francine's Contest :"On The Ocean Waves"
morning frost twinkles while rancher sips coffee and whiffs new arrivals
pure and white as snow cotton stands waiting in field boll weevil munchies
Upon the flushing milieu of twilight, Vague shadows of the ranch hands brook. A proud slow march on hackneyed legs, In the slow emergence of autumn's dusk. Today's sullied labor grimes the worn denim chaps, In the dawn to dusk harvest of the seasons haying. An aching exhaustion on sweat muddied faces, The price and the pride of the old rancher's toils. Barns piled high from the summers green fields, The homestead prepares for the silver of winter. Lost in the muted glow of sunset's backdrop, The prairie echoes thanks with a soft cowboy song.
doditsu Nature knows that smell forbids. Marigolds repel aphids. Reflex magnet finds its match in your berry patch.
ZOOOOOOOMING speedily… Tires squeaking from exhaust… high in volume Racecar spews out smoke… Blinding the eyes of a thousand fans Blooming havoc… Explosions avalanche downwards Racecar drives fast and furiously Awesome feelings launch through me Projecting panic and twisted bliss Catching the audience's full attention… Tension between challengers increase Who could stand in their way… not even the coaches Racecar screeches on the racing street… Ain't this competition neat? Come! Take a seat! This event is brilliant – it's such a treat! Producing thrill or disappointment… Car organs, fragments, shards, remains, limbs, veins Spurts out in flames… flying at every possible direction Countless racecars… barely functions – this scene is extremely horrendous! Yet, the victories are gracious! Vibrant applauses and thanksgiving triggers enlightening cheer Have no fear!!! The moment is ever so precious! Racecar…you make so much racket and suspense! Rowdiness is in your nature…who will pay the expense??
Work, work, work, bare back down, across the boardwalk, to the bone, I walk, which brings These days of slavery, but now BeHeads, my flesh, to survive, Countless nights, no sleep, To rest my eyelids, or head, though It's kept me from, lack Of retirement, I no Beg, No More, Touching, doors, to my, peaceful home,Tis thee way, of pride, I betroth Of supporting, beloved ones, who Await my Return, for them, I do because there's Nothing more, I'd like to see, than A smile, or A warm greeting, home, as my wife, stands beside me, Where Children play, I catch Width,Hand out,and arms extended, Waiting, For their hugs with A smile, HURRAY Daddy's Home, at last I say, Another day, Bites the dust, back to work tomorrows, I go, Paying mortgage to its bitter end, As my obligation, I have A bondage, To work, I pray my lord, protects, with Constant blessings, for he is the guidance, That holds it altogether...
Be careful I said carefully come nearer Be careful I said carefully take my sword Be careful I said carefully read my lip Be careful I said carefully draw my sword Be careful I said carefully pierce my body apart from my soul Be careful I said carefully send me there now... Why do you withhold? Be careful Have your sword, shield it And have your seat Politics has not completely darken my heart I still sense the part I belong I know I aren't born this way I know I aren't call to this way I know God don't support my way- Bloodshed day and night All in the name of satisfying Whims and caprices of the few The world led with the words of the opportunist And built by struggles and sacrifices of the full Since you are now born again Be careful I said carefully come nearer Be careful I said carefully take my sword Be careful I said carefully read my lip Be careful I said carefully draw my sword Be careful I said carefully pierce my body apart from my soul Be careful I said carefully send me there now Why do you withhold? Be careful Have your sword, shield it And have your seat Politics has not completely darken my heart I still sense the part I belong I know I aren't born this way I know I aren't call to this way I know God don't support my way- Bloodshed day and night All in the name of satisfying Whims and caprices of the few The world led with the words of the opportunist And built by struggles and sacrifices of the full Since you are now born again Be careful And carefully convey my message to those privilege few Be careful And don't change my words Be careful And listen carefully Be careful And tell them I said... Peace be upon thou That values this singular word in action Who give room for this course to thrive And carry the day Peace be upon those That gives it a chance The Word in question is PEACE Peace and Unity is what I preach Carefully Convey my message to one and all.
That moment we forgot what we did saw. This no doubt our memory have failed us, A signal that the time will not be thaw, That moment we forgot. When all throbbing has come and nestled, thus The thing we saw reappears as its raw, Then nothing can stop that call behind us. Not lost memories are what we keep as law The forgotten will haunt back as pulse Highest shade, most lightening will tour and saw That moment we forgot. Note: Form of poetry used in the piece is a 'Roundel' form of poetry.
Enlighten days have past He comes excel in all, so he thinks "I am greater than man, I know what ignorant man does not. Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!". He points to the blue heaven, "Where is thy wisdom? For I know all. Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake And brings forth water that lives?" At the great gatherings, He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf He answers to the multitude of questions He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?", "I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what is a dream? What is life?" asked the young herdsman. "I know not what you speak of", said the Man. "I only know what i can feel, touch and see" "A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring. Life holds all things mystery and doubts. Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams". "The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman "The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear". "Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on. "If the blind could see you, They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind For they can see what others cannot, If the mute could speak, they would humble you! And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom". "Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman? Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's? What could you learn from such simpleton life?" "Life I live is simple indeed, No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak" "Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies". Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman "Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies? How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who? Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? What flies would harm the young flocks?" The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man, Left without a word The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man. An unyielding shame kept the man humbled He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about. He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads On the hill top he stood And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.
dry brown summer grass dandelions gone to seed goldfinch eat their fill
Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about "What A Poetry Actually Is", the obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different this time... Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror, It is something we can relate to and share. It's our memories written in jumbled words, It's like a song, with a meaning it holds. A mere idea of our mystical lives, Expressed in a way from deep inside A way which only the heart can see, A place where the eyes get cold-feet The earnest truth and the sweetest lies, It's all the irony that makes poetry so alive.
Dalliance With The Winter Birch Crystal glances at the brilliant blue Marching up there with blinding sun soaked sky Clouds stream by They come apart in seams of wonder As the day begins to shine Work waits there on the farm A dalliance with winter wind and trees begin White limbs swing limp, spring back again on birches Firm roots, frozen earth, hold the hard wood down I climb the highest branches there At 8:00 am farm chores start once again They can wait for just a while longer While all of nature sinks into the skin As I figure out how to return Somehow I got lost above the trees Tangled in the maze of branches Caught, never found, while climbing birches Never quite figured out Which way was up or down
Light is fading It's cold, abrasive Facing longer nights Green leaves mellow Brown and yellow Autumn has arrived Misty mornings Clock alarming Body sense awry Feel so jaded Last night's raving Flashing through your mind Drink hot coffee Rush to catch the Seven thirty-five On the treadmill Routine, thankful Work keeps hope alive Simply crazy when, every now and then You want to bash your head against the wall No longer feeling worth it all Like you always thought you would You live the life you choose Or are you being used? Now faking it, doesn't raise a hit You forfeit all or run with it Lucky to be paid And maybe later, dream of getting laid Light is fading It's cold, abrasive Facing longer nights Green leaves mellow Brown and yellow Autumn has arrived
I once saw two little ants one in front and one in back carrying on a small dance. For the front ant was quick as they carried a beetle load often the back would slip. Racing to the front from behind the back spoke to front in excited terms giving a piece of his ant's mind. Cooperation is what gets job done, gets the meal home,across this driveway, out of this hot sun. So learned from little ants when I looked at life's little items and I saw little ant's dance.
She sits over her writings, a chrysalis, a solitary form. All of her adventures are tucked in her mind this morn. Her poetry is meant to half make you laugh or weep. Her stories are soulful with multiple twists to reap. Her husband peeks at her ideas before going to work… She can't wait to discuss the results back and forth. She'll revise a little, but not the main inspirational theme. This poem is the result of a days' insightful dream. She's a butterfly who may never come out from her cocoon. But she's safe, warm, and happy… with your reading a boon. There are always those admirers awaiting her final results. Like a butterfly's wings the words tarry, till they finally bust forth. She helps others understand… they're not alone…any more… With a moment of her presence and beautiful, unfurling heart. Then she'll hide away back in her cocoon till when… She'll awaken, forever beginning the cycle… anew, again.
Inches make feet without inches there is no foot without beginnings there is no work without measure there is no dearth without a ruler there is no worth there must be rules and there are rules but eye will let them all apply to them my enemies at work and never eye. The horse runs well it has a heart so then they fill syringes from the start to inject the muscles of the neck to make the beast faster than the wind oh heck the animal is dead it never hit the ground but flew too fast and lost the race and life. Desert life is winterless but not without some weather life the sun is always shading and the water is found in sub altern placing near the animals for killing under the ledge of apprehension near the fire of desperation comes the frog and toad and watercrest nut sandwiches. Eye had been to the desert on a horse with no namme it felt good to be out of the rain. Voices come out at me from the air into mye membrain eye call it Disraeli musick it is usually someone in the area with a boom box or even cars with the windows rolled down can be the culprits they hound me when eye am hicking place to place. There is other answers to the crazxy place eye hear noises mad mostly by people in the other cubicles the walls are just invisible the talking is allowed. The thief cannot sneak in sneakers they squeak like he is sweating in his shoe laces. This brings me to mye priority eye. The reason that no one wants to be a Detective is the movies the guy may have had DAMES by the score but he had fights and was so sore the men were ruthless and left him spinning on the side of every road. The streets of New Nuevo York has gum shoe on them. The American idea of Indians and wampum has brought us to the test of food in rest or rants of foreign style they smile and bring the menu back to make certain that the orders write the man has pointed several times at five bills a whack. One from Column A and 2 from Column B brings us to a bill of $23. Well eye wanted some meat too but you are so expansive. Rice and curry hot mustard radishes. Try finding food in the summer time how careful now that eye a homeless one should be then tossing caution to the winding blowing wind when it seems only wrapped so tightly to keep flies at night away. To feed myself is easy to offer some to others almost impossible a few times eye have asked to share they slide that nostril in the air and leave the food to the one that found it in the lair of tossed and discarded things the general city the loose leaf cabbage so nicely adds a bite to the membrain of mye priority eye.
My bed is anxious,waiting for my snores Today's going to bed, tomorrow's a few steps ahead I wonder why I took "the" pen I feel like putting them down What? My thoughts What am I inking? Nothing! Exactly! Just wanna scratch my itchy paper with my juicy ink Singers? Go sing... Comedians? Go do comedy... Others? What's your "itchy paper?" Have you applied your "ink?" Be good at what you do Love what you do Practice... Go scratch it!
Wet furrows slowly churn, his plough horse snorts, a farmer walks, lost to his morning world. Clay sticks, yellow to the disc, he kicks at it, the dawn sky is his citadel. Harsh days, like summer, blaze in his memory; confined to this land, his earthly flesh has made a pact. His arms are held like tree boughs. Suzanne Delaney
We have been observing the expanse of the parched land for many years, a land that stood the test of time and captivated by myriad dreams unfolding through the footsteps of the ages thus penetrating our lives. We gazed at the vast mountains and high lands with its luscious vegetation stretching thousands of miles from across them, Autumn on one side, Summer on the other, and Spring reluctantly emerging from a gruesome Winter that paralyzed the inhabitance of nature, stripping it from its wholesome prominence while it convalesce from the battered and bruised earth. We languished at the sudden disappearance of the water valley and the vast landscape around it. As far as our mind could reach, and as far as our feet could travel we trod upon the visible land within our reach. Land that has never been inhabited stared at us; land that has never been farmed is waiting to be ploughed. I could hear my great, great, grandfather and my grandfather before him shouting at the boys to get out of bed, harnessed the horses and start plowing the land again. We reminisce over acres of lands that our ancestors have fought for, land that spilled blood and claim the lives of innocent souls and fearless warriors, land that expands from ten generation, stood before us bare and empty, weeping for the souls who have fought furiously to preserve them. This land that has fed us for more than a hundred years lay waste before our naked eyes, the land that God gave us to feed the next generation has been sold out to strangers. The land is infested with dilapidated old building and at the whistle of the wind they are destined to collapse. They spread out all around the city and is inhabited by ruthless strangers and priced high despite their aging structure. We lament the days spent on this land but foresee hope for the future. We searched for the farms, but they have disappeared, we look for the streams but they have dried up. Our bodies are polluted with toxic substance from contaminated food washing up on our shores from the other side of the globe, food unfit for human consumption have replaced the natural food on our grandfather's farm. Oh great God that watches from every corner of the earth, extend your mercies and cause the land to flourish once more. You have given us land so that we can eat; you have given us land so that we can have enough in time of drought. You hold the universe securely in the palm of your hand and expand it so that it can reach everyone. The land is precious in your hand, no one can bargain for it and no price can be paid for it. When everything is stripped away, and the money diminishes, when our strength fails the land is here to stay. This is the land that will feed the younger generation; this is the land that will produce our crops. Powerful God, proliferate the land once again, mend the broken edges, and rescue your children who have been doped with hatred, intoxicated with bitterness and sedated with evil desires. Empower them and eradicate the poisonous substance from their perishing souls. We gazed at the vastness penetrating the earth, and see land waiting to be occupied exposed to brutality, exasperate with atrocities and evil works. Great big God, save your children from the open gutters and trenches that awaits them, save the mothers, their suckling and toddlers who have been ravished from their homes and recruited into ruthless activities to torment and demoralize innocent people's minds. Save them from the snares that await them, the tribulations surrounding their homes and the pestilence that seeks after their souls. We traveled the entire land, and hear you calling out the young men to till the ground. We can hear you beckoning the young men to throw down their weapons, clean up the garbage and farm on their grandfather's land. They can hear you but they are too fragile to comply; they have weakened themselves with substances that make them vulnerable and unreliable. Emerge you powerless youth, transpire from your defenseless state, purge your body with clean drinking water and start cultivating the land again. What else do we have but the land that you have given us? No one can take it away from us because it belongs to you. Strengthen the young men to till the land again and plant on fruitful ground. Bless the earth, and endorse it with your favor, thank you for this journey you are a mighty savior. ©2014 Christine Phillips
A number of tasks to handle, and not even a space left to enjoy, as the work needs to be completed, as fast as it can be done, in spite of the hard work, we do daily, we do need some respite, and these could be done, in a number of ways, by walking, or jogging or by watching television, or by watching films, in the multiplexes, those which lie in every nook and corner of the street, but some derive pleasure, through travelling, others by travelling through the forests, accompanied by a special companion, some large and some small, known as the camera, taking a step at a time, as silently as possible, as to not to wake up the wild living in here, by capturing the photos of these lovely creatures, living in here, some of the these wonderful creatures are seen, roaming as freely as possible in the wild, look how carefree they are, but their ears are opened quite wide, to heed for any danger, heading their way, it's time for me to return home, from the wild, as it is time for me to deliver, these photos to my manager, as this has been my job, for which I do get paid for, to look after my family, I do need to hurry, as I do not travel by four wheelers, or two wheelers, as the pollution created by these, could endanger the wild living in here, I do travel far and wide, with my bicycle, for all the work I do, and I do not mind this, as my love for the wild, exceeds boundaries forever!! From:-Mr. Manu Nair.
Rain falls from dark clouds Making the grass grow faster I just hate mowing
Driving to work on a spring day, A masterpiece is painted with a tint of sun ray, On the parkway, going fast Colors from heaven I seem to pass, Yellows and blues bring joy I cannot refuse, Oranges and white, make my travels bright, I can taste the beginning of the dawn, Knowing there's purpose for all that have been born, Fire ignites while the world arises, Preparing me for the days surprises, Refreshed and awaken, By the glory that I see, Each layer of color Whispers to me, Senses are keen, As the sky glistens and gleans, Just another reminder that we were not made to be machines. Driving home from work on a spring night, Overwhelmed by an artist's delight, On the parkway, going fast When suddenly my heart can barely grasp, Colors from God that seem to consume, Any trace of my day that brought me gloom, Penetrating purples, pinks and reds, Peirce my soul, as my eyes are fed, If angels were finger painting, The sky would be their canvas, A gift from the divine to remind us of his bliss, Cherry blossoms reflect the evening sky, As the long day says its goodbyes, The darkest blues of the deepest sea, Gently remind me that I am free. By: Sabina Nicole
Mister Jack Frost stealthily visited me again last night. When I awakened from my slumber I saw to my delight, (Like sparkling bubbles in a fine effervescent champagne), Splendid frescos that he had etched upon my windowpane! No mortal artist could e'er portray, no matter his ingenuity, The feathery touch of Mister Frost's brush with such acuity! Sunbeams playing on my windowpane brought his work to life, Accentuating wonderful geometric designs so very, very rife! In my imagination I saw palm trees swaying in the breeze, and, Waves rushing t'ward the shore, breaking on the golden strand. I saw forests of trees, their branches reaching for the sky, And a rippling stream with a rocky tor towering nearby. Cathedrals flaunt gorgeous stained glass built by the masters' guild, And by their handiwork, the teeming masses have been thrilled. But Jack Frost's lovely handicraft that adorns my windowpane, Outshines the work of mere artisans whose work seems so mundane! Alas, Old Sol quickly melts away that fleet and mystic painting. Only tiny rivulets of water like parting tears are now remaining. Ah! But never mind, Jack will be back to delight me tomorrow morn, With another of his magnificent vistas my windowpane to adorn! Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired © All Rights Reserved
Devoted is the gardener Who makes the flowers grow She tills the Earth and plants the seed And nurtures what she sows She cultivates the naked earth And tills it in her hand The blossoms that her work brings fourth Will decorate the land She labors each and every day From dawn 'til setting sun The gardener is vigilant Her work is never done She's one of nature's instruments A planter of the seed A prophet of divine intent A disappearing breed Though her hands are worn and calloused She has no time for rest She is part of something greater Her labors have been blessed And when her earthly toils are done She'll rest beneath the sod Then awake in a new garden Prepared for her by God This is dedicated to my Grandmother, Beatrice Spencer 1909-2003. She is always in my heart. Her gardens were always colorful, and beautifully maintained. She was a marvel, and the world is a far less vibrant place without her.
Introduction: Even if you're tied to barely holding on, your control over will power shall pull you up towards the truth and success. But only if you believe up to all, that it's stronger than what you could be - that's when you balance the fall... You may get old Your memories may drown, But your soul won't get cold And beliefs won't breakdown. Just don't you let go As you never know, Things you seek for all your years They could be in your back yard. Find the truth within the lies, Fight your pride to end this cry, Trust your soul; open the door Balance yourself and roll the stones. The one's you heart will always stay So don't throw life out your doorway, Life's too short and it's too real Sometimes it's hard to see and feel That's how you live a life, The risk that breaks you down to bits Saves and brings you back alive, That's what we call the gift of life. No matter how rough things might get We get rewards for the risks we take, No matter how hard or sad Learn and value what you have. Though, too much pride will leave you dried Don't let 'hopeless', be your life's stride, None of this will you take to grave, Your deeds will lay, only your pave. As you breathe in and do breathe out, Make each one profound And stand your ground, As lies are just the fantasy, The truth - is your ecstasy And this will forever be plain to see...
Deadly lighting flash Thunder booms frightening sounds Natures fireworks
If Simply….. All mortals could really sight The greener immaturity of grass Not just mere toil to feet Of such as to graze concrete To stand and examine Instead of unswerving past Or conscience of view To an open setting so blue Therefore it be my belief As to when us poets do meet That surely we've some work to do! If Simply….. All mortals could take pace That is tardiness to time Not instantly seize upon a seat Admit surrender to defeat Maybe to listen without speech No talk just mime Or acknowledge thoughts to score through To where no man has flew Therefore it be my belief As to when us poets do meet That surely we've some work to do! If Simply….. All mortals could give riddance To the bustle of frustration Not to create necessitate to compete Then latent in dotage touch grief So I inscribe to you all My poetically skilled fellow man Lets show to forget of when why and who Lets set emotions past and pastures set new Therefore it be my belief As to when us poets do meet That surely "together" we've some work to do!
If killing is a problem solving key. Believe me I shall also try to flee. We killed thousands in 9/11, We killed thousands in Iraqi sandy cabin. We are killing thousands in Afghan War, We trained to kill/die in Pakistan's shore. Do we try to learn a lesson? God will keep us in heaven a religious fashion. Arab will die to live on Earth, What was truth before Lord Mohammed's birth? Lord Jesus Christ was born Christian, What's wrong in Jews living fun? Mohammed and Jesus they played on soil, They roasted their jobs to sweat boil. They never sit idle and demand food free from God, They never used to win human a religious rod, They were polite and shared their views, They never threw on wrong their shoes. Conversation was their only tool to use, Let me know whom they have abuse. Forgiveness and mercy, they produced a shield, They grazed their sheep on the earth field. Do they ask God they shall give a shelter in Heaven? They will punish that hit by a Robin. What's in Quran or a Bible? Go to Heaven and kill a human tribal. I learnt a message,' how to live on Earth'. That's why Nature has our human birth. A religious philosophy is superb, If it cut my poverty curb. I work and work to pay off the bills, And always crying what are politics hells? Wrongs and wrongs never learn a lesson, To kill innocents for their outrageous fashion. To compromise to strengthen crime, To corrupt nature to share a winning ham. If hell or heaven is also a living space, Then why we have a new Mars race. If heaven has a better living home, Then why have a human dilemma of innocence trauma. Something is wrong in human brain, Lives in tense and talking about strain.
Side streets, avenues and boulevards seem fortifications of past civil wars with piles of ice glistening, and the grime and dirt from passing cars splash them with slime.. The meteorologist from Eyewitness News grins as he tracks down the January storm predicting no pleasant, sunny weather or break in clouds tomorrow night; more snow from West Carolina will arrive to New York Harbor after midnight, then it will change to ice, rain and sleet....I'll drink plenty of coffee to keep me warm! So worried, I called my pretty niece who's traveling up North, I told her to drive safely and stop at a gas station to check her tires, but Claudio will soothe her blues as he hums many happy rhymes, and lots of stories he will tell me having seen the kids of the South. Wednesday I will go back to work, having plenty of time to sleep... to do as I will, but staring at a blackened snow at every curb, I can't bear the thought that spring is months away and my Ford is parked between cars that haven't been moved since last week. I'm waiting without thrill more snow from West Carolina, praying for everyone's safety as they cross another borderline... If I were a kid, I'd build the funniest snowman on my block, and happily go around it twenty times as a quacking duck!
One day Water said to Earth "I ruled long before your birth, I was here first, I hold the key, Bow down to my seniority" Earth replied to water with a laugh "I paved my own path! You may have been here first, it's true, But in the end my might bested you." The oceans swelled and roared And the skies, they violently poured As Water threatened to once again drown So then Air jumped in with a frown "Must you two always bicker? This fuss will cause Fire to stir, We all know what a bother he will be, So please agree to disagree, peacefully!" But the intervention came much too late As Fire awoke with a blazing shake "Who was here first, that's no victory, Not when there is a force as great as me!" Fire began to swell with pride Until Water doused him in her tide Earth laughed with a great big rumble Filling Water with rocky crumble Water replied with a great big wave Leaving Earth's garden naught but a grave "My flowers! You have drown them all! With that Earth shook down a great waterfall. Water cried out, for she was undeniably vain Without it she felt quite plain Fire, still upset over the blow to his pride Joined up and took Earth's side The three began to unleash their wrath Destroying much in their explosive path Until Air decided that she had had enough And she blew with one mighty puff To pieces the Earth fell with a bash And Water flew back with a crash Fire shrunk into a tiny light And Air took advantage from the break in the fight "Why must you always try to be superior? When we got along, things were merrier. We work so much better When we work together! Earth, you and Water pave the way So the creatures of the world can live every day! And Fire, you are needed just as much Life would perish without your warm touch." Water ran smooth, feeling foolish Such destruction was never her wish Earth grew still similarly, "I am so sorry," said he. Even Fire seemed to feel some shame As he all but extinguished his flame The elements worked together once more Another quarrel added to the stories of lore
(French terms to know: arabesque (ar-a-besk) stand on one leg, other leg extended back with knee straight, arms out; pirouette (peer-oo-et) a full turn of the body on the top of the toe or the ball of the foot; releve' (rel-vay) rise up from the whole foot onto the ball of the foot; demi plie' (dem-ee plee-ay) half bend of the knees; port de bras (por-de-bra) continual movement of the arms through a series of positions; fouette (foo-ay-tay) series of turns on one leg, the other leg extending rapidly to side and whipping around body; glissade (glee-sade) a connecting sliding step When corrals turn to mush and all dirt roads are slush, springtime has arrived at our place. The challenge begins since I'm sans webs or fins to walk outside with upright grace. I don my galoshes and cov'ralls that washes to feed stock that wait in the lots. By the time I return I will honestly earn my decor of brown and green spots. As I step in the slop, my galoshes do flop, as ankle-deep mud gets a grip. In slow forward motion I ease through this potion, resisting the muck's pull to slip. I feed several hay bales and balance two grain pails, while working my way through the soup. But before I am through I'll lose one boot or two from suction of that muddy goop. THWOOP! My foot's poised in the air as I (gasp) balance up there. I execute an arabesque, a slow pirouette so I shan't get all wet. What I need is a chair or a desk! My predicament here since my boot is so near is to turn it around in the slop. My balance must hold while my foot's in this mold and fearing my body will drop. A controlled releve' and demi plie' are more than my posture can stand. A wild port de bras while I desperately claw finds me catching the ground with my hand. I snap a fouette' and turn the other way. I manage a slippery glissade. For it's not every day you see Muck Dance Ballet-- just when ankle deep mud makes you wade. Copyright Terry Henderson terryhenderson.net
How beautiful are the creations, that are beyond all explanations. What lies forever of foundations, the very majestic plantations. Voices of opera soaring high in the wind. The harp and piano linger at the end. The southern climate in the spring will bring, field hands ready for cotton picking. Blooming white cotton fields in the sun that glimmer, near the muddy Mississippi River. Cotton wagons loaded with cotton bolls. Down the Mississippi the river boat rolls. Gardens of flowers, red roses, and jasmine. White doves gathering near the fountain. The muddy river for irrigation, horse drawn carriages for transportation, are might fine images of great plantations. A morning cloud of fog covers the lawn. Planters in straw hats awake before dawn. French doors open to the morning breeze. Echoes of children and what they see, hummingbirds, honeysuckle, and honeybees. The very grand columns that hold the balcony high, overlook the plantation for miles wide. Golden curled ladies gather the veranda sitting in rosewood chairs, for coffee, beignets, and jasmine sweet air. From the grand house high on the hill, a heron next to the spinning windmill. A romantic oil painting is on display, of a bride and groom on their wedding day. In the background is the huge oak tree, the frame made of mahogany. Picnics under huge oaks streaming with moss, images of plantations will never be lost. The stairway leads to very grand rooms. French windows open to the light of the moon. The river reflects the history, of cotton plantations along the Mississippi. The people hold on to this grand memory.
Like wine which efferveses within the glass is your own love to me it fills my heart and bubbles up rising when you I see Its movements effect whats hidden within to be seen in what I do know this my love its welling up its focus is on you When you are given a gift so grand what with it would be upon its presence within your life its will effecting thee It's hard to tell if it's mine or yours or what its work does move I only know not to let it go until its work does prove Can't be so minor if it stirs my thoughts but let its movements be its works are placed within my heart to love you eternally Matthew 22:37-39 NIV "Jesus replied: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC my ditty for the day
Sheep's Work Is Never Done Life calls after sheep in morning to continue Everyone else sleeps in Hiding from the corporate coma for awhile People rise, at a later date, from beds dead tired Smiles crack on faces; lines move the traces of age around And break the new dawned day wide open You can't count on sheep for anything They cut wood down in forest Place it into piles I know this can't be done They have no work permits Their visas have expired They line up to be deported You can't count on sheep when sleeping either They wake up freezing cold in wooden homes Catch colds, catch fire with the trees To burn the forest down Weep with matches hidden in the wool Call it an accident No one keeps the peace and secrets like death and sheep You can count on that Death takes everyone with it, with or without their visa Sheep move back to their own countries Work is never done there either, but To be continued
I wandered around for years in odds and ends not knowing what to do with myself unchartered territory just waiting for me to discover undecided in which way to go open road to freedom impulsive escape driven by extremes in nature erratic in behavior in the spur of the moment running away from the mundane routine of existence. A change of pace from everyday rat race always in a hurry to get ahead on the highway of life searching for a new scenic route through small towns and quaint little shops worth exploring along side streets with windows rolled down music blasting out loud enjoying the view of the countryside a smile on my face feeling free from the city lights of shades drawn in boredom.
Tiny humming birds Buzzing like bees Fluttering fast Fluctuating Flying like a fleet of Helicopters sucking Up cargo Red and black flowers pollinated by crews of workers not colliding but collectively Cooperating a church on mission absorbing, ingesting cadre of co-laborers Elaborating on service A herd of helpers Feeding, fashioning, Fueling and feeling Harmoniously humming Purposed performers Tiny humming birds Buzzing like bees Fluttering fast Flying like a fleet of Helicopters delivering The Word
The stagnate machine planted firmly, rusted gears laboring to drudge along. It does not function properly anymore; it has become obsolete. The workers no longer need the machine to live their lives. They can design a new system, built upon self-sustaining values. It once labored greatly to support its work force. The machine now hinders the lives of the workers. The workers grew so reliant upon the machine they thought they had become part of it, cogs in the system. Now they realize more and more each day, that not only are their lives separate from the machine, without it they are more able to focus on the fundamental values of life.
W E L L On Earth to drink, A word in tongues!
Every second passes by me unseen But I can feel the weight of one minute After each hour my mind becomes keen: That these days are adding up bit by bit. Each week my personality alters A year goes by and my mind starts to twist Decades pass and it seems as time falters, My mentality gets lost in time's mist. Yet when I am with you the clock stands still If only I could exploit these feelings I could stop the sands of time at my will But I'm not capable of these dealings Time now steals what I already forgot My mind starts to fade but our love will not
The morning, a cold dog's nose Rubs and frosts my window pane I pat its head, it licked my toes I trembled in the pleasure vain Opened the door and there in white Sits the shaggy dog gaping still Big it was, bigger than the night Taller much than the trees and hill It yawns across the misty lawn And licks the dripping grass so wet Sorry, it did not chew up the dawn The work day in rigid stone is set With foggy heart I embrace the day And wiped its foot against the sun The hot stone mat, my will of clay Day's labor in this embrace has begun While the dog naps out of our sight Giving us room to wear out the day The fog will come again in the night Balming the bruises of work today.
The Father's Handiwork " 1 Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. 2 By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. 3 Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done." Gen 2:1-3 NIV The Christian truly appreciates The Father's handiwork of nature; Perceives His love in every twinkling star; Every beautiful, still lake a picture. He sees His love in every flower bud, Shrub and each variety of tree. Gives thanks with adoration For each mountain, river and sea. God speaks to us in His word, But His nature speaks as well. A continuous love story Each creation to man does tell. So often in his hussle and bussle, Man glazes over God's love; Fails to see his many blessings Flowing from God's throne room above. Man is often perplexed By the number of his cares. He stresses over little things; Feels the whole world he bears. But this is truly not the case; The Father watches over us all. His handiwork's so complex From the ant hill to mountains tall. The Father's Handiwork of nature Is so intricate in its design, Only God can create such order Amongst His creatures at one time. Every bird that sweetly sings And every bee that visits His flowers, Has the Father's creative design connection It belongs to God, it's not ours! Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2012 www.maureenlefanue.com
While I stand and watch Nothing important happens As clouds pass over
Sitting watching a June summer king establish his reign over hazy hills and dusty dales, I could just hear a sharpened scythe's ring across green fields cutting away at the corn, With the hustle and bustle of the annual hay-harvesters bringing home a brand new season, Happy sunburned workers work the open fields gazing skywards smiling at the noonday sun. Hay hangs out to dry in the trees of the narrow footpath's and down haw thorny little lanes, Everything now prepared and Mr.Summer rolls up his sleeves working to help with harvesting, Each person delighting in deep cool grass in the shaded part an abstract of lovely flowers, Then paddle in a cool stream washing the chaff dust from feet thus ending a hard days work. The shadows of leaves dance along the streams a silhouette waltzes upon the silvery water, Lovely azure crowfoot salutes from a bank to a forget-me-not an old friend from last year, A purple compfrey dips its leaves to sweeten the water joined by a warm and gentle breeze, The birds sing from the trees and in the hedgerows while the nightingale tweets a sad tune. On trees chestnuts begin to grow and acorns young and green sitting in their little cups, The nuts from the hazel and the apples on trees in orchards promise a ripe autumn harvest, Gooseberries for pies, currants and strawberries ripen growing in the hedges of old lanes, June has taken his fair turn making spring shoots grow strong, ready for the later fruits. The cuckoo departs and glow worms emerge on a summer's night and glows a tiny little glow, Along heath and over the meadows across landscaped fields dotted with pretty wild flowers, The June summer heat gives strength to nature making grass lime green next to red poppies, As the summer harvest quietens the work nearly done people rest and reflect on golden mead's.
A noise is heard, I go out to investigate, it is back where the cows are, moon covered by heavy clouds, shines through slightly, spooky and cold this night, growling now louder, have to get to the cows. Ok made it, they are ok ,babies too, so cute they are. Looking around now growling again, louder more angry sounding, flashlight getting dim, shines in deep woods, only two eyes reflected, growls getting closer. What could it be didn't know coyotes growled, deep voice? Bear! didn't know there were bear around here, oh how I hope not. Cows must sense extreme danger, I have my pistol to protect them, (why didn't I bring my rifle), they surround me, not letting me through, could not get a clear shot, please move. So strange I never knew. Heart beating faster and faster, stop thinking, concentrate, please go away I don't mean you harm. Hours pass, growls further away now. Time to relax. They protected me, they care! EXHALE
Writing is one thing I do daily Early in the morning My mind will be humming So wise the words of wisdom sounds Alike a rice free of sands Helping to humanity Teaches you humility Makes you a star in your community You live with impunity A wise man is not questioned When you are wise You turns unique People begin to mimic you These are the words that make sense The words that are sensible enough to bring light of information Its information cure deformation The formation of wisdom in the citizens is the development of the nation in all angles It is citizens that owns a country and not country that owns them Leniency brings light to the world, and makes right for a nation Where wise men are filled, nothing lacks Where knowledge is being stored is treasured with higher value Where wise information are being shared, you don't see much deformation Life has many things to give for those who are wise Wiseness is not only information, but a gift of rational thinking Talent is a gift of
Have you ever seen The portrait of a dog Painted on the road, Not in the great tradition Of living colours as you'd Expect, but in all the Terror and detail of An untimely death? Have you ever seen The sketch of an imposing house Rendered not in vibrant charcoal But the coal of shattered Hopes and burnt out hulks- The work of the Great Artist above Or the mean imitation of an earthly forger? Have you ever seen The picture of an ocean beach With dark waters lapping The fish-laid shore, Not the magnum opus of A master in oils; but The work of an oil slick? Have you ever seen These great Works of Art? And have you ever wondered why You had to be The great portrait Of a Master Caricaturist?
There you are again, When I look out of my window, I see you staring back. I see your glistening outline flowing through the night, Shining through the day. With you standing so near, yet feeling so far. Being old, you just stand there. What do you do? I see you watching me, watching me. I wonder what you think of others coming and going, running and playing. Yet not saying a single word. See, I do nothing but stand here, My roots firmly stuck in the ground. There are many of you I can see, Yet you seem to be alone. You stand on your own, Within your green surrounding, your home, Watching everyone else. You're fighting to be part of everything – Yet your roots won't allow you. You are focused, with one aim in life. Nothing else. With all your curves I see them. The leaves rustling around you, floating through each year. Do you feel them going? Changing through each season. You want to go with them, but you can't. Yet your roots won't allow you. There you are again, Staring out of that window. Why do you do that? What are you looking at? You look straight at me, seeming like you are looking straight through me. I don't eat your food, drink your water, I don't hurt you, Yet you continue to look at me like that. What are you seeing? I see your whispering branches blowing in the wind, Looking so fragile as if would break. I see your mind wandering As if wanting to move, but cant. To lift your roots and go. In your mind you seem so far away, Yet so close in reality. I see you more closely now, Staring up at me. With me staring back down at you. You're staring at me so closely, With such a glazed expression. Yet I can't work out why. Why, I dont do anything, just stand here? You move back slowly, Staring still. What do you see? Do you see me? Or just what I look like? You're talking to me now, I don't understand. What are you saying? There's that look again. That glazed expression. Are you still looking at me? You are. Yet I can't work out why... For I am only a tree.
Have u ever really stoped and pay attention to the birds in the morning have you listened to their praises,their praises of joy thats its a new day, they fly like its the first flight do u watch them Can you feel the joy they feel have you ever tried to feel it,do you see the aerobatics being performed by them, its a show not even fine gold can buy when they perform in the sky Flying frenzy is the acts they perform whilisting so sweet telling you its time to get on your feet do you listen to them As we have jobs to do and to perform they have as well letting us know the time is dawn.
The world is changing Even the sky is a darker shade of blue And the squirrels are at war With the snakes The acorn fell to the wrong side of the tree And the snakes say, "The acorn is for me." The seasons have become bold Nature has come to reclaim her domain And the elephants are chasing The cheetah The water hole is a sacred place The cheetah winces, falls from grace. Ice rain falls from the heavens Reshaping all that is The birds together in mixed confusion As the falcon carries away the cow A feast of feasts to feast upon Until the bone and marrow are gone. The polar caps have melted Has the earth moved closer to the sun? The penguins are armed with rifles Killing off the polar bear Save the polar bear, the creed A new endangered species. The forest has found ending Trees are placed in designated positions And the stingray becomes the mortal enemy Of man The world is indifferent to all Maybe things will be better in the fall.
S U M M E R L E A V E S C O L O U R L E A V E S A U T U M N L E A V E S Note: This visual poetic form (inspired by the work of the conceptual artist Hamish Fulton's (b 1946) landscape 'text-and-image' work 'a seven day walk in the mountains Switzerland early summer 1984'. This poetic form has 5 words of 5 letters or 6 words of 6 letters (as above) or 7 words of 7 letters & so on with a pastoral theme.I call this form a FULTON as a tribute to Hamish and his art.
To the east of Indies. nor-west of Africa, Standing proudly on the land of Sahara, Trigonometrical domes they lie one on the side of another, Its the family of the Pyramids standing like brothers. Planned in the B.C. centuries by great kings , Built by slaves troubling their limbs- Protecting bodies of ' Pharoh's' acting like nurses, Saving the Egyptian kings from oblivion's curse. In the midst is the great Sphinx - With the face of a woman upto the pharynx; A great lion's figure constituting the rest; Resembling the Egyptian taste -one of the sculptures noted among the best. Like the thorns of a grey cactus- It would remain erect on the sandy caracus.
Give to me the good land sweet earth and soil the sun the shade and her toil Put me back in natures hand the cycle of things that I understand Stand beneath the light of the stars and my face to warm in the sun pick herbs in summer showers and hold you firmly in my hand the joining of woman and man Feel the crisp breeze of the bay and accomplish the work of the day lay by your side every night without a struggle or fight Let the warmth of my soul dispell your fear and your anger quell Trust my soul to work for your good and all between us is understood Let us run the river beside and in the woods play seek and hide Sing to the children our song that we should all get along To the cycle we all understand Belonging to woman and man COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Go to the ant and learn (2x's) Go to the ant, ant, ant Go to the ant and learn- (Chorus) She digs her house down deep She builds her house up high And though she has no king Her armies stay alive In the summer she will reap For the coming winter sky She gathers everything Her colonies survive (Chorus) Consider all her ways She's small but she expects Her people stay as one And she is strong and wise So number all your days Prepare for what comes next And til everything is done Let no sleep tempt your eyes Go to the ant, ant, ant (3x's) Go to the ant (Chorus)
Endless train whistles, At the limits of one's hearing, Never farther away, Seemingly never, ever nearing... Sirens shrill screech, At times of their own choosing, The pulse of mountain winds, Never gaining, never losing, Honking winged geese, A satire of city cabs?, In cloud bound nature's streets, Small planes coming and going, In a parade of me wondering, but, never knowing, Where they might have come from, And where they now are going... Abandoned homes, Abandoned dreams, Stars sparkle in a mockery of fate, Who was the last to leave that home? And what might have been the date? Will bears soon be wandering down city streets, Perhaps shopping for a new coat? Wild dogs in packs attacking anything? The bray of feeding goats? My silent snores go unappreciated now, There's no one to say "Good Night", The body aches, my will it strains, I have no one to share my pains... Empty pockets stress my hope, It takes all my will to cope, Where has everybody gone to? Has everyone gone to the moon? I await my turn to join them, I pray it will be coming soon... Or am I left here to guard the past? For me to be the very last? To witness what the fates have cast? To experience decay first hand, Through the hour glass's ebbing sand, How pointless time does then stand, Not like a full head of hair.. But a single, lone strand? Me, the lone keeper of times no more, As giant machines still hum busily, No one now to know their purposes, now or then for sure.... And now you must go too... I wonder, I wonder, What I will do? Alone, books and ink, My sole companions till my ship does finally sink? I eye the rifle in the corner... Maybe the rules God will bend... If I use it as my ticket to tranquility, For, at least, my pain to end? Yes, at its worst, No more pain... Sure it is forbidden, But reasons to live seem to drain... No one to say Goodnight to, No one to say Good Morn... No one to hear me question... Why I was ever born... To those who complain of pressures, Of work, of family.... Could sit in my chair, eyes opened... And see what I can see... I'd work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, And enjoy every responsibility, To care for friends and family... & work 60 hours a week, & feel the difference, Paycheck but a bonus, And, see & gain a new point of reference, And from that very day, You'll see the value of your life, In a very, very, new way.
Give us our daily bread . . . We shall not mind if we Have a daily milk, Neither shall we take offence If we have a daily butter to match. Who amongst you will give his child A stone if he demands for a bread? Who amongst you will offer her child A serpent if she request for a manner? Legion ,they are today in the globe. Who is holding down our daily bread? Who is hoarding our daily milk? Who is selling our God given freely manner? The men with Capital in all our capitals The men with the tyrannical order of Capital The men enslaving us for more Capital Even in the nooks and crannies of rural towns As hunger and poverty hovers round the cities Even amidst unprecedented Capitals. The more we gnash our teeth crying for our Daily bread given by Jehovah Jireh The more they replaced it by daily stone. The more we complain of hunger to Jehovah The more they laugh at us and replace our Daily bread with splotch of taste and famine, For they known we are springy to sufferings. The more we lament of the men in Capital The more they turn our daily bread to serpent Striking us forcefully even in hunger. The more we beg of them for Capital The more they kill us for surplus value For their fiendish drive for more profit . Tell the men at work to beg no more Tell the men in Capital we shall beg no more Tell the men at work to arise and unite And stop them and their unending lush luxury To forge ahead to the barricade and Seize the mace off the corridor of their hands. Then ,only then, we shall experience hunger no more And our daily bread shall be "tead" and "buttered". Alayande Stephen .T 16th of April,2006 6.30pm Conceptualization of the sufferings of the masses All over the world in the hands of the ruling Capitalists Despite the abundance given by God. Demanding for workers Solidarity throughout the world to overthrow this endemic Capitalist system.
Pallid rasp of care encompassing not compare, left but to idle, never share, left but to wander, going where? My soul in essence asks in prayer am left to squander life's impair neglecting waste, as if not there recycling only watchful tear ~ Oh action yonder, take my stare cause me to wonder, and repair, the earth asunder, needs aware, inhabitants with laissez faire! To focus blunder, then revere the force concern, not leftist pare involving staff of righteous gain ~ each hand to merit, each to aim!
The leader is ahead, you know, His head held high, his chest held low, As he races through the snow, Where he leads, the rest will go. The harnessed dogs have aching feet, A pound of fish is all they eat, Yet they will never face defeat, Till their job is all complete. The pride of pulling is in their heart, Till death will make their lives depart, They will pull the rugged sleigh, Until they see their final day. They toil without one complaint, They try to keep from being faint, Sled dogs are, I know, a faithful saint, A picture of Christ's life they paint, He died faithfully for His greatest love, He died so we may all be with Him above, And if the sled dog loves pulling the sled so, Jesus loved to save from sins, so much more you know?
over the stubble carrion crows- the game-keeper heads home for tea
Ah, wish I were gone beachcombing... ... among the fewest fondest words conjuring up simple, sparkling joys in a seemingly pointless pastime when the whole world of waged work wants me to do only that which is cost-effective, truly ensuring ROI: never mind divine artistry on shells and the tide that must have kissed the shores of distant continents; just trudge to the jobsite enduring bone-snapping cold, blistering heat, ...and the indignity of "No ID, No Entry!" Ah, wish I were gone beachcombing.
I must not go beyond sunset to discover the consciousness of night, Standing alone on a cliff I was ready to jump for salvation atoning for guilt of survival My regret was time and timeless suffering, Where was the maturity of age ? Mind must go for the beloved ones for a virginal touch of flawless blaze. They should have come to join the prayer not for me, but for the dying sun, and white valley of fears. Half my tongue sings for the shade and half I cry mutely. SATISH VERMA
In a stand of thinnings- picked by and by a bodger turns his pole- sweat drips in his eye; the blade glides to and fro- on his homemade lathe; one by one the pile grows- legs of beech and elm.
Let the river flow where it will Our eyes will see what they must we depend on it and the plants it nourishes We depend on it for its flowering waters we depend on it for daytime and nightfall the seasons form the perimeter of this world as it blows hot and cold Let's not forget what we owe this planet We are the stewards and the life we take from this blue orb should not be taken too lightly Together we can save the creatures of this world Together we can forget petty differences and work together for the dream of a planet restored Our work will take us from the depths of the ocean to the heights of the Himalayas Take a deep breath! Recognize the kinship of all life! AND ACT!
The grass soon needs mowing, as lime's placed with care The bushes, I'll be trimming, they've grown just like hair The flowers have also grown, they have or are ready to bloom The trees need pruning as branches now block out the moon The weeds, well they're weeds, which I already must tend The fence rotted through, now that's something I must mend The shed door flew off during the brutal winds of winter past The barbecue had blown over, I was grateful it had no gas Yeah, the spring it is wonderful for it's new growth, it's new life But, the work that it brings me, brings me nothing but strife


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CFC - All copper with mounting bracket. Used 3 times. Works wonderfully. Could be a pre chiller as well. Cools 6 gallon batches to ale pitching temps in approx 10 mins. Can send pics. PM me your email address and I will send as attachments. $100. Paypal only. Must sell due to my dogs' recent vet bills and I have too many chillers laying around. $100.
pm sent
Pic? When you say "style," does that mean something similar or homemade?
Similar. Send me a pm with your email and I will send pics as attachments. Thanks
Primary: Revelation Cream Ale On Tap: Red Skies at Night, LHB Blond Ale, 224? Suburban Wheat Ale

subset: commoncrawl


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The £15 offer is for Band B ticket and the £20 offer is for a Band A ticket to either "Tosca" or "Carmen". Specified dates only. Some seats may have a restricted view of the stage and or surtitles. Subject to availability. Must be used in one visit. Advance booking required. Not valid for tickets already purchased. No cash value or cash back. The full value quoted is based on the maximum ticket cost at time of publication. Cannot be used retrospectively or in conjunction with any other offer. Usual prices, inclusive of per-ticket fees, are £33.90 for Band B and £38.90 for Band A.


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This recipe goes with Roast Chicken and Onion Tacos
Sunset MAY 2004
1. Remove and discard husks from tomatillos. Rinse tomatillos well and coarsely chop.
2. In a blender or food processor, combine tomatillos, chiles, cilantro, and 1 tablespoon water; whirl until coarsely puréed. Pour into a bowl and add onion and salt to taste.
Nutritional analysis per tablespoon.
Go to Full Version of
Green Salsa (Salsa Verde) Recipe


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It was a unique experience to stay at Poets Inn. Decoration is very innovative, very interesting and unique, for example in brakfast room you'll find different old radio receivers, murals, and even a birdcage with an origami crane in. :) A writer's name is given to every room; we stayed at "Anais room" with a picture of Anais Nin on... More
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<< Introduction Arc >> 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |
Opening Theme-
"Rocks" by Hound Dog (Japan)
"Rise" by Jeremy Sweet and Ian Nickus (U.S. TV)
At this point Naruto has been caught by Kakashi, lecturing him about his unnecessary movements. It is at this point that Sasuke, hiding in a nearby tree finds an opening and takes it, he launches a series of attacks and awaits the result.
Upon impact Kakashi goes flying and everybody thinks he was caught off guard, but it turns out he used the replacement jutsu and is safe from harm. Knowing he was tricked, Sasuke attempts to runs away, knowing he has been found out. Sakura copies Sasuke and retreats wondering what would happen to Sasule. She finds Kakashi in a small clearing and thinks that she is safe, but Kakashi is actually right behind her. She screams out of terror. Meanwhile, Naruto trying to cut the rope he had been caught in. He succeeds only to fall onto another trap a mere seconds after that. After a gust of wind picking up a series of leaves, Sakura is seen with a blank look. When she comes too see looks around and hears Sasuke's voice. As she turns to see where Sasuke is, she looks horrifed as Sasuke's body is bloody and impaled by kunai and shurikans. She screams once again and faints soon after. In reality it was really a genjutsu performed by Kakashi to make her think Sasuke was hurt. Having a short discussion and a stand off, Sasuke and Kakashi begin fighting and Sasuke succeeds in touching a bell but not in attaining one.
Sakura is dazed and bewildered upon waking, and Naruto is still stuck in the tree once again. Naruto sees the lunches that Kakashi has left and has an idea. Kakashi acknowledges the fact that Sasuke is different from the other two. Sasuke performs the Katon Goukakyuu. Kakashi surprised by the sudden attack, performs Doton Shinjuuzanshu and pulls Sasuke below ground and insults his skills. As Naruto prepares to eat the lunches, Kakashi shows up and scares Naruto, who clams it was all a joke, but Kakashi doesn't believe him. Sakura walks back wondering if Sasuke is okay and see Sasuke's head and faints once again. Sasuke revives Sakura and he reveals his plan to her. Having waisted too much time, the alarm sounds and the test is over. The students gather only to have Kakashi tell them that they should quit being ninjas.
As Iruka and the Hokage continue their tea and chat. Iruka finds out that none of Kakashi's trainees have ever passed the test. Iruka, being upset by the hokage remarks of his confidence in kakashi's training, continues to complain. The three find out that the only reason they failed was there lack of team work. They learn that they will get one more chance to prove themselves after lunch, but they will have to let Naruto starve as punishment for breaking the rules. In the next scene, the Hokage tells Iruka not to hate Kakashi no matter what the outcome is.
Sasuke and Sakura are eating their lunches and they both decide to give Naruto food so that the team can be strong for the next test. But just as Naruto starts eating, there is a huge explosion and Kakashi appears. He tells them that they broke the rule and to prepare for punishment. They argue with him and tell him that the three of them are one, hearing this he tells them that they have passed the test. When they ask why, he tells them these words, "Ninjas need to think beyond the normal, in the world of ninjas, those who break the rules are called scum, but those who don't take care of their friends are even worse scum." Having said those words, Kakashi tells them that starting tomorrow they will begin missions and that it is time to go home. As they walk off, Naruto is left tied to the tree stump yelling for help.
Ending Theme-
"Wind" by Akeboshi
Kakashi Hatake ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) |
Naruto Uzumaki ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) |
Sasuke Uchiha ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) |
Sakura Haruno ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) |
Iruka Umino ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) |
Hiruzen Sarutobi ( x ) ( x ) ( x ) |
Masashi Kishimoto | Original Concept | He is the creator, writer, and artist, of the successfully popular manga and anime series: NARUTO |


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3 fitness Articles
Hrithik Roshan gives tips for building six pack abs!
7 months ago 0HR imparts tips for right physique Hrithik Roshan has a fit frame and a body that many men envy. Hrithik Roshan, the Bollywood actor with the Greek… Read Article ▶
Salman Khan's fitness secret
4 years ago 13B-town stars work long and hard to get the perfect hot-haute-bod that brings in big bucks at the BO Looking good is one of the key factors to being… Read Article ▶
Deepika: Booked and fit!
4 years ago 7She joins the bandwagon of actors promoting fitness books or DVDs Star value works for everything, from ads to box office collections. Now… Read Article ▶
More fitness


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(Prior to Fall 2010, this course was known as CLAS 45.The information below might still reflect the old course numbers. Bracketed numbers, if any, are the old course numbers. Learn more...)
3 hours; 3 credits Political structures and institutions of Classical Athens and Republican Rome. Investigation of constitutional forms. Contrast between theoretical frameworks and historical realities. Investigation of the nature of social status, types of power, and imperialism. Prerequisite: English 1010 [1] or permission of the chairperson.


text: First-Year Class Provides 100s of Volunteer Hours at Six Service Projects across BirminghamThe first-year class at Samford University's Cumberland School of Law embarked on a class service project Friday, August 15, from 1-5 pm, across six Birmingham locations providing more than 500 volunteer hours. Upper class law students, professors and administrators also joined the effort. The first-year service project fits with the law school's pursuit to engage students in community-based volunteer efforts. Cassandra Adams, director of Cumberland School of Law's Community Mediation Center and Public Interest Project, organized the class project in partnership with Hands On Birmingham, an organization that connects people with volunteer opportunities. Adams works diligently each school year to provide law students with legal and non-legal volunteer opportunities. The class project formally began in fall 2007 and has continued each year. It is an opportunity for new classmates to interact and is a break from a week of traditional orientation events. The class project provides students with an opportunity for community outreach in a city that is new to most of them. At Cumberland School of Law, students are reminded often about the importance of volunteer work in the legal profession. |


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Artificial Intelligence Software
- OS: Win98 ×
EverCrack- (GPL) Cryptanalysis Engine EverCrack cryptanalysis engine. The goal is cryptanalysis of any class of cipher. The focus now is the kernel - cryptanalysis of unilateral monalpha substitution ciphers extremely quickly, and later, cryptanalysis of complex ciphers for the kernel.
16 weekly downloads -
cair CAIR is an e-learning project that allow users and subjects management. You can associate pupils and teachers to subjects and works for this subjects. There are special functionalities for those subjects related to Robocup development.
2 weekly downloads -
Diablo 2 Slacker Diablo 2 Slacker is a library written in C# for botNET that takes care of many of the details that you would normally have to handle yourself. It handles movement of the bot and includes services that the bot may require, like chicken and pickup.
1 weekly downloads -
Gene Expression Programming .NET GEP is an evolutionary algorithm for function finding. This framework is a powerful way of expressing and coding genetic-like structures and quickly finding solutions through evolution by common genetic operators.
1 weekly downloads -
Meyshan Wall Meyshan Wall, This is the ultimate wall paper changer, using Micro soft .Net framework, Meyshan wall would fetch public and private photos from Picasa, Flicker, Riya, and 23 Hq and from your local directory to display as wallpaper as per your settings.
1 weekly downloads -
LispSharp LispSharp is a fully compiled lisp implementation for the .NET Framework. It uses a Lisp dialect similar to ISO Lisp, it has a Command-line toplevel compiler with Read Compile Print Loop.It references any .NET DLL and produces standard .NET assembly.
0 weekly downloads


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Dusk Maiden of Amnesia is the story of a ghost of a young student who has no memories of her former life or how she died.
Dusk Maiden of Amnesia is a supernatural, mystery manga series created by Maybe. It was originally serialized in Square Enix's Monthly Gangan Joker magazine on April 22, 2009. The first volume collection of the manga was released on August 22, 2009. The standard price for the volume collections were ¥590 each.
Name | Dusk Maiden of Amnesia |
Name: | 黄昏乙女×アムネジア |
Romaji: | Tasogare Otome x Amunejia |
Publisher | Square Enix |
Start Year | 2009 |
Genres | |
Themes | |
Aliases | Tasogare Otome x Amnesia |
We don't have any info about Dusk Maiden of Amnesia's related volumes. Help us fill it in! |


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I'm a student in Brown University's PhD program in Religion and Critical Thought, which means I study religion and philosophy/politics. I got my MPhil in Christian Theology at the University of Cambridge under the generous auspices of the Marshall Scholarship and the Cambridge Trusts Scholarship.
Prior to all that, I was born and raised near Fort Worth, Texas.
In my spare time, I like to cook, wrap presents, and dig in the dirt. I have one cat, a blue-point Siamese named Baby.
I write as often as possible, as well as I can. Sometimes that means less frequency and lower quality than I would prefer. But I do my best, and I love what I do. My hope is to bring a Christian leftist perspective to public discourse that is sensitive to the shape of modern American politics while remaining faithful to Christian doctrine.
Thank you for reading my blog, and any of my other work you may have looked at. I sincerely appreciate your time! And I hope you've found something of value to you.


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Monthly Archive for February, 2011
Table Hopping column: Speak up about restaurant problems
Today's column was inspired by a Guilderland High School student named Tony Pitkin, who sent me a long tale about how a Valentine's Day dinner with his girlfriend at The Standard Restaurant & Lounge at Crossgates Mall was marred by a drunk, disruptive patron, and the restaurant's later efforts to make it up to them. […]
[Read More]
A horde for crosswords at Wolff's
Thanks to the puzzle fans who turned out this afternoon for the first Wolff's Biergarten/Times Union Hope Fund Crossword Challenge featuring New York Times puzzles donated by the paper's crossword editor, Will Shortz. The event was sold out. About 100 participants attempted the first puzzle, with those who completed it correctly moving on to the […]
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TU/Wolff's crossword tournament sold out
Update: This event is essentially full, with only a few slots unreserved as of Friday. Would-be participants may be able to secure a position to compete in the event of no-shows, but it is not guaranteed. Original post: The Times Union and Wolff's Biergarten in Albany are co-presenting The Crossword Challenge, a two-round contest starting […]
[Read More]
NY Times critic Sam Sifton to speak at Skidmore
Sam Sifton, the smart and funny chief dining critic for The New York Times since fall 2009, will deliver a lecture at 7 p.m. Monday, March 7, in Palamountain Hall, on the campus of Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs. The talk is free and open to the public.
[Read More]
Indulge is closed, loses chef, future uncertain
Indulge restaurant in Latham, which opened in May on Route 2 between Latham and Watervliet, has been closed since mid-January. A sign on the door originally announced that a several-week closure for winter vacation would end Feb. 9, but that never occurred, and a reader reports that an eviction notice has been affixed to the […]
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Reader's winning mac-n-cheese recipe
Table Hopping reader Christian Noe of Cropseyville, right, won the judges' award for best home-cooked mac-n-cheese for his Buffalo-wing-influenced dish. Noe's mac-n-cheese bested versions by 10 other readers, all of whom were invited to participate in last weekend's Table Hopping/timesunion.com Mac-n-Cheese Bowl to benefit the Regional Food Bank of Northeastern New York. More than 1,600 […]
[Read More]
Classy, quiet, casual for date night in Malta?
A reader writes: My wife and I used to go on our date night to Chez Sophie, sit at the bar, we each got a delicious burger (cooked rare for me, medium rare for her) plus fries. Sometimes we split an appetizer. We had a drink or two. The bill was rarely above $60 including […]
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Rehearsal dinner in Saratoga for 100?
A reader writes: My fiance and I will be getting married in September and was hoping you or your readers could help us find a perfect Saratoga restaurant for a Rehearsal dinner for about 100 people, not in a hotel banquet room. No cuisine preferences. Budget max about $40 per person. Folks?
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Mallozzis hire Chef AJ
The local chef Anand. "A.J." Jayapal, right, has been named food and beverage director of the Mallozzi Group, which has holdings including The Brown Derby and the Italian Club at the Italian American Community Center, both in Albany, Villa Italia in Schenectady and Mallozzi's Ballrooms & Catering in Rotterdam. Jayapal's general mandate is to streamline […]
[Read More]
Cooking chicken Parm with Jaime and Steve
On Tuesday night, Jaime Ortiz, corporate head chef for Mazzone Management, and I taught a soldout cooking class at Different Drummer's Kitchen in Stuyvesant Plaza. (Matt Baumgartner has some photos.) The title of the evening, "Deconstructing Three Main Ingredients," was deliberately vague because, well, when we committed to the class last fall we had no […]
[Read More]
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The right wing dingbats are not getting along, propose a WWE cage match,GWB and crew may be loosing a couple of their moutpieces... http://www.worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=48980 The heated issue of turning operating control of six major U.S. ports over to a state-sponsored company based in the United Arab Emirates is splitting some of the biggest names in American broadcasting, including Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly who favor the transfer, and Sean Hannity and Michael Savage who oppose it. "I have been a profile in courage on this story," declared Limbaugh on his national radio show yesterday. "When it comes to the UAE or the Middle East: I do not believe that every Arab nation, government, sponsors terrorism. I don't believe they all are for it. I don't believe they secretly fund it. I think this story about the two or three of the 9-11 hijackers came out of the UAE, they may have
I also oppose it, and I am a flaming "neo con wingnut" the religion of the Muslim* comes before any business deal or any small loyalty that the Arabs may have. The Fanatical Terrorists in the Religion of Islam want America DEAD, the so called "good ones" also "Secretly Want America Dead", their Religion tells them this. If this Port Deal goes through sooner or later we will be attacked again, you can bet on it. The democrats should love this Port Deal, it will probably sink the republicans. I would rather see the deal killed even if it means that the Screwball Democrats regain power.
Sometimes it is nice to have disagreement and debate. Unlike the others you are not required to goosestep with the Clintons or Howard Dean. Rudy Guliani and Christie Whitman have been to the GOP convention, Bob Casey was not aloud to attend the DNC Convention, talk about the closed minded party.
They allowed "The Hog" Michale Moore to attend the DNC convention and then if that wasn't bad enough the Weasle Jimmy "Sissy" Carter sat with him. :bricks:
Guess the right wing media is not a bunch of synchophants, but independant issue oriented thinkers. Contrast that to the MSM which gets its talking points from the DNC, and lately Daily Kos.
I define the MSM as Limbaugh, Hannity, O'Reilly, Coulter, Savage, Robertson and the rest of the right wing talking heads.
:rofl: You crack me up. This must explain why mediamatters always has to correct the misinformation that the right wing "news" outlets are always putting out. You must think that Brit Hume is not a sycophant.
mediamatters :rofl: is the modern Mien Komph of the left, so hateful and trying to destroy within funded and lead by a foreigner.
Ah yes, Media Matters. You are only 2nd to Patters in utter blatant hypocracy. You disregard information that contradicts your world view from sources you deem 'rightist' while citing alternatively politically oriented sites like Media Matters. My point was logical. I said that there is open, free rational debate on the 'right' on the port issue. Your response was 'partisan' as you guys love to label. What a surprise.


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Saturday, March 12
Salt River Fields - Scottsdale, AZ
Attendance: None
Scottsdale, AZ (Sports Network) - Ben Paulsen's two-run triple finished off a four-run sixth inning, leading the Colorado Rockies to a 5-3 over Arizona in spring training.
Matt Pagnozzi had an RBI double in the inning and Dexter Fowler added an RBI single.
Colorado starter Greg Reynolds allowed two runs in five innings and Edgmer Escalona got the win despite giving up a run in the sixth.
Henry Blanco hit a solo homer for the Diamondbacks and Chris Young went 2- for-3 with two RBI. Left-handed starter Zach Duke left the game without retiring a batter in the second inning after being hit by a line drive on his pitching hand.
Updated: 3/13/2011 - 12:31 AM - Note: all times are Eastern Time


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Mods ... feel free to move this but please leave it up for at least 2 days. Above in the Patriots sub-forum area perhaps Ian can make a members only sub-forum called "The OutHouse". Reading all the pissing and crapping going on in the NEM apology forum (NEM GOT HIJACKED BTW :rofl led me to think we need an OutHouse forum for members who have had a bad day. They can go in there before coming in the Patriots football forum and take a piss and a crap so they can post like angels :snob: in the Patriots football forum. Just an idea ... feel free to move or delete as needed... :scared:
I second that! Its been tough around here lately. You get two or three pages into a thread only to walk (unknowingly) into a new battle ground for the patsfans.com civil war.
FBN that is a good idea, then maybe this forum can be about New England Patriots, you know that football team we watch from August to February..
I think threads just need to be locked a bit faster. If some mod locks every 'I hate you' thread that pops up the haters will eventually take it to PMs or IMs and then its irrelevant. You do get to know people a bit deeper when they get excited. To some extent their true nature emerges as opposed to the "I'm too cool for school" attitude many people try to hide behind. So the hating threads aren't complete garbage. Just very close to it.
I getting excited right now!! Yup...that's what they call me...Mr. Excitement In fact, Warren Zevon wrote a song about me...I swear it's the truth....no, not "Excitable Boy"...it was a lesser known yet still classic gem...Tautogs Of Taunton.....heh