“At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear.”

― Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories

1 sun

“And if these mountains had eyes, they would wake to find two strangers in their fences, standing in admiration as a breathing red pours its tinge upon earth’s shore. These mountains, which have seen untold sunrises, long to thunder praise but stand reverent, silent so that man’s weak praise should be given God’s attention.” 

― Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road

My heart: its birds away, its branches bare, Swooned in eclipse. William Baylebridge

http://www.middlemiss.org/cgi-bin/movabletype/mt-search.cgi?search=bird&IncludeBlogs=1&limit=20

1 BIRDS

 

foto of birds in raleigh 2013

“A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.” 

― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

We are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side.” ― Kahlil Gibran

1 MOON

 

Half Moon Creek

LEON VAN DER LINDE

De Spatio Reali

Halfway to Miena
the Milky Way
hangs differently

so much brighter
and closer, that,
if you wish,
you can reach out
and touch
the powder-white
brush dots
painted by the moon
and stars at night

http://www.australianpoetry.org/2013/10/09/half-moon-creek/

the sun you wore like a scarf on your wrist has vanished. —Sarah Holland-Batt

The Art of Disappearing 

http://sydneycitypoet.tumblr.com/post/14649089955/poems-revisited-the-art-of-disappearing-by-sarah

1 GUMBOOT

“I like the stars. It’s the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they’re always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend…I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don’t last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend…”

― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives

He is so mean, he won’t let his little baby have more than one measle at a time – Eugene Field.

http://www.fun-stuff-to-do.com/wittyquips.html

1 CLARA MILLY

 

foto of clara milly sleeping in 2013

Those who educate children well are more to be honoured than they who produce them; for these only gave them life, those the art of living well.

http://mirrorfy.com/forum/topics/best-quotes-sayings-famous#

 

Sentimental irony is a dog that bays at the moon while pissing on graves. Karl Kraus

http://www.lexiyoga.com/moon-quotes

1 DOG

FOTO  John May’s dog at a Raleigh Rumbling. 

 

The Vagabond And His Dog.

 http://www.wolfweb.com.au/acd/vagabond.htm

By Robert X Leeds.It was another Christmas day
And God looked out to see
What scripture promise came to pass,
What promise would not be.

Andturning aside, HE turned his eyes
To those who’d dwell inside,
To those who’d warm by Heaven’s hearth
And those who’d be denied.

And HE saw a man at St. Peter’s gate,
A mongrel dog at his feet,
And a line that reached to the dark of night
As far as the eye could see.

And St. Peter looked at the disheveled two
And challenged the wretch to say,
What deeds he’d done, what praise he’d won
To walk in Heaven’s way.

And the vagrant stood in his shabby robe
And not one word he spoke,
As though he heard not a single word
This man in the tattered cloak.

 

“What deeds have you done to think you’ve won
The grace of Heaven’s line?
What honors earned? What evils spurned?
Pray help me be inclined.”
 

But the wretched soul and his shepherd hound
Stayed on without a sound
As though no deed could come to mind,
As though no reason found.

“Can you not find one deed so fine,
To merit entrance here?
Can none attest some honored quest,
A challenge still unclear?”

And still he stood and but held the leash
That stayed the mongrel hound.
Until he knelt to feel the ground
And kiss the furry crown.

As love was cast in skin and bone,
He held the dog around,
And Heaven watched and Heaven judged
This vagabond and his hound.

“What seeds were sowed that a flower’d grow
When you’d depart the scene?
A single tree? One slave made free?
One clean and shining sea?

Was not one life made free of strife
Along the path you strolled?
Was not one child encouraged to smile?
No good that can be told?”

And all looked on at the vagabond
Who held the unkempt hound.
But not one voice to sway the choice,
No plaintiff voice was found.

when at last, his patience past,
St. Peter bid unkind
And motioned on to the dark beyond,
“No reason you can find?”

“Not one but simple virtue be
That all of us may see?
Not one redeeming act of faith
Did bring you here to me?

In all your time can you not find
One voice for yours to plea?
In all your time can you not find
One voice to vouch for thee?”

And now at last his time though past,
The vagabond turned to speak;
And his eyes were filled with tears that spilled
And coursed the craggy cheeks.

And from his heart the speech did start
To argue not his sake,
But to plead the cause of the mongrel dog,
That lay in Heaven’s wake.

“Perhaps it ain’t for me to see
The paradise within.
I was a simple soul on earth
This hound’s my only kin.

But if the children’s smiles count,
His cup’s filled to the brim.
Oh, I can vouch for this hound, your grace.
I can vouch for him.

You should’ a seen them laugh and run
When he was all their game.
You should’ a seen the love he gave
And never once complain.

And when the tide of time arose
And naught was there to eat,
He shared the taste of an empty plate
And stayed at these failing feet.

It ain’t for me,” he whispered soft,
“It ain’t for me I ask.
But don’t deprive this poor old hound
For what his master lacks.

If caring and sharing and loyalty
Are virtues of your size,
Consider one who lacks of none,
Let Heaven be his prize.

It matters not what comes of me,
Or what may come about.
But it just ain’t fair. It wouldn’t be fair
To keep my poor hound out.

No friend has ever been so true.
No man has walked a line,
Who never strayed, but not this dog,
This hound that I call mine.”

His fingers stroked the shaggy coat
And the dog licked back the hand;
And as much was said in the silence there,
Than since God’s quest began.

And then abrupt, the hound looked up
And labored with its head
To lick this face of human grace,
This man of tattered thread.

And suddenly a calm would be
That tethered every sound.
And a warm breeze blew that embraced the two,
This vagabond and his hound.

And St. Peter turned to the mist beyond
And paused with uplifted head.
To heed the voice of Almighty God
And to do as HE has said.

I’ve set the task and I have asked
For virtues held and shared.
To dwell in a world of every kind
And for every kind have cared.

And now I’ve seen dimensions dreamed
That seldom I’ve seen before,
A simple man and his faithful hound,
Denied at my own door?”

With pen in hand, St. Peter began
To enter on his list,
The names of those whom God had chosen
To dwell in Heaven’s bliss.

And one belonged to a vagabond
And the other he called his kin;
The man who vouched for an old hound dog
And the hound dog who vouched for him.

Submitted by John Chandler

http://www.wolfweb.com.au/acd/vagabond.htm

The mountain mist, which Blacks had thought the souls of bygone men, Came closing in, with swirls of rain. Mark O’Connor.

A New Ballad of the Man From Snowy River

http://www.australianpoet.com/poems.html

1 ROSELLAS

foto – rosellas in a raleigh mist

The house of envy lies in the lowest hollows, golden, sunless, breathed upon by no wind, grim and filled full of inert chill, and lacking warmth, is always roiled in fog.

Greek

A little Bit Of Stew For Dinner. A little bit of bread for breakfast

1 DINNER AT THE OVH

foto – eating at the oceanview hotel in urunga nsw 

 

Effervescent pink the champagne bubbles
With tinted illusions
Dinner waits
She glistens with age well carried
He listens with aged wisdom
Both drink in the possibilities

http://theaimn.com/2013/05/04/a-few-short-poems/

Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present and future. – Gail Lumet Buckley

1 Gold Cst Hols.001 Nana Bell Currumbin 1961

 

foto – nana bell at currumbin wildlife sanctuary in the 1960s

Rainbow Lorikeets

Mark O’Connor.

To feed head-down in an aerial smother of honey and pollen
reassured by a rainbow chatter of siblings
changing tree on impulse
in case python or man is stalking,
reckless till then

http://www.australianpoet.com/poems.html#rainbow