i am a curious person.
i am challenged by the unknown.
i can be driven, out of sheer frustration, to penetrate a closed veil of conspiracy.
Thanks, Terry:
I saw both The Illusionist and The Prestige.
I preferred the former because of its romantic and atmospheric elements. So much, it seemed, went unexplained, which is how I like it. I saw it many times.
The Prestige was stimulating intellectually, but left me cold on an emotional level.
Cheerio . . .
coinciding with the arrival of the hottest tab (but don't know if it's related), i can no longer call up my posts.
instead, i get a message "bad request".
.
I've always been a good boy and it disconcerts me that I'm told my request is bad . . .
no longer do i fear the night.i move about, yet unnoticed, toeyes that once sent daggers.
and to ears that heard the worstbut never the best of who i was.. dark is good; it hides the shapethat i've become and shields mefrom scolding tongues of hateful.
men who themselves are immuneto the little pains of folk like me.. i love the shadows but haunt theday, to remind myself that light hasworth but no more a place for me..
Thanks, Terry!
I'm gonna have to get a cat first, then I'll let you know!
Regards . . .
no longer do i fear the night.i move about, yet unnoticed, toeyes that once sent daggers.
and to ears that heard the worstbut never the best of who i was.. dark is good; it hides the shapethat i've become and shields mefrom scolding tongues of hateful.
men who themselves are immuneto the little pains of folk like me.. i love the shadows but haunt theday, to remind myself that light hasworth but no more a place for me..
NO LONGER do I fear the night.
I move about, yet unnoticed, to
eyes that once sent daggers
And to ears that heard the worst
but never the best of who I was.
Dark is good; it hides the shape
that I've become and shields me
from scolding tongues of hateful
Men who themselves are immune
to the little pains of folk like me.
I love the shadows but haunt the
day, to remind myself that light has
worth but no more a place for me.
my witness self :-very hollow, slightly lofty, characteristically judgemental, overwhelmingly convincing.. my non-witness self:- and in my imperfect way no longer taking the passive attitude to reality, and most importantly no longer feeling an outsider with my " true" friends..
Greetings, The Rebel:
Far too many things to write out in full at this time. Most important, however, I would say I feel less entitled. Because of what I did and who I was, a great deal of attention came my way. This forum has become, for me, a level playing field. Self-importance and our so-called accomplishments mean nothing. Not to say that our fellow posters are insensitive to who we are and what we do.
When, on a particular occasion, I was feeling down regarding my poetry as posted here on the forum, you -- The Rebel -- were the only one (I recall) that commented with kind, encouraging words.
My point: Last night I said to heck with this 10-year total anonymity streak. I plucked up my courage and posted a photo, the one of the sad and contemplative poet. And there you, too, were with your lovely family! I instantly felt a kinship with what had been the faceless The Rebel now become a real person. As a result, I feel that I have grown -- for the better -- in less than the last 24 hours.
THANK YOU, The Rebel!
you have left me.. .
it may as well be the moon where you have taken up residence.. .
i gaze upon beauty supernal -- heaven's vault -- and imagine you there, on the moon, a speck upon the bright and glassy plate of a night sky.
That you were!!!
you have left me.. .
it may as well be the moon where you have taken up residence.. .
i gaze upon beauty supernal -- heaven's vault -- and imagine you there, on the moon, a speck upon the bright and glassy plate of a night sky.
So very good, Nancy!
I was inspired by the new movie, YOUTH, to write the second piece. Michael Caine, Jane Fonda . . .
Best
never was a jw, but been here a long time.. off on a trip in a week or so, uk to andorra to stay with a friend for 10 days or so (beautiful place) then a week or so wending through france back home.. did the same trip the last couple of years -it was wonderful.
met some lovely people, including an ex-polce woman over coffees and calvados after dinner.. but ... i don't feel so enthusiastic about this trip.
i'll visit the cathar sites and other places.. maybe- just maybe - i've come to the conclusion that these trips are not as much fun if you don't have a companion to share it with..
But I understood you, mon ami!
Merci!
never was a jw, but been here a long time.. off on a trip in a week or so, uk to andorra to stay with a friend for 10 days or so (beautiful place) then a week or so wending through france back home.. did the same trip the last couple of years -it was wonderful.
met some lovely people, including an ex-polce woman over coffees and calvados after dinner.. but ... i don't feel so enthusiastic about this trip.
i'll visit the cathar sites and other places.. maybe- just maybe - i've come to the conclusion that these trips are not as much fun if you don't have a companion to share it with..
I appreciate your sentiments and the opportunity to talk, Joe, as we have never conversed before.
Alone for 16 years, I see both sides, as herein expressed, to the matter. My family is from Alsace-Lorraine, and it would be wonderful to visit my roots. It's all I can do nowadays, however, to prepare for a 200-mile trip for my 50th HS reunion.
Do you speak French?
Bien des choses de ma part . . .
you have left me.. .
it may as well be the moon where you have taken up residence.. .
i gaze upon beauty supernal -- heaven's vault -- and imagine you there, on the moon, a speck upon the bright and glassy plate of a night sky.
I talk to you, just like old times, reminiscing about our love and our heartbreak and our happier moments together.
The old club chair, near the window that gives onto the shaded terrace, is shabbily comfortable and fits in all the right places. I stare at you, you -- the woman whose face stopped passersby on the street in their tracks.
That countenance has gone rigid, its eyes staring blankly at nothing through mullioned panes . . .
Where, my love, have you gone?
