zondag, september 29, 2013
zondag, september 22, 2013
Slowly
The Elephant is Slow to Mate
by D. H. LawrenceThe elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse as they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse and dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, and sleep in massive silence, and wake together, without a word. So slowly the great hot elephant hearts grow full of desire, and the great beasts mate in secret at last, hiding their fire. Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts so they know at last how to wait for the loneliest of feasts for the full repast. They do not snatch, they do not tear; their massive blood moves as the moon-tides, near, more near till they touch in flood.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15346#sthash.iq1RfPGQ.dpuf
little stiches on a lazy sunday
love entwined
The Elephant is Slow to Mate
by D. H. LawrenceThe elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse as they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse and dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, and sleep in massive silence, and wake together, without a word. So slowly the great hot elephant hearts grow full of desire, and the great beasts mate in secret at last, hiding their fire. Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts so they know at last how to wait for the loneliest of feasts for the full repast. They do not snatch, they do not tear; their massive blood moves as the moon-tides, near, more near till they touch in flood.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15346#sthash.iq1RfPGQ.dpuf
The Elephant is Slow to Mate
by D. H. LawrenceThe elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse as they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse and dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, and sleep in massive silence, and wake together, without a word. So slowly the great hot elephant hearts grow full of desire, and the great beasts mate in secret at last, hiding their fire. Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts so they know at last how to wait for the loneliest of feasts for the full repast. They do not snatch, they do not tear; their massive blood moves as the moon-tides, near, more near till they touch in flood.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15346#sthash.iq1RfPGQ.dpuf
vrijdag, september 20, 2013
With love
a present For a special person
after a long talk this little heart quilt
Love that is fragile as a butterfly
that lands in your palm
with a glittering of color
and with trust that you will care
Allowing them freedom
to spread wings in the air
When they are deperate for warmth
a heart staying open
Closing a fist
a soul will be broken
Caring enough
to keep hands open
Waiting and watching
as love only can
after a long talk this little heart quilt
Love that is fragile as a butterfly
that lands in your palm
with a glittering of color
and with trust that you will care
Allowing them freedom
to spread wings in the air
When they are deperate for warmth
a heart staying open
Closing a fist
a soul will be broken
Caring enough
to keep hands open
Waiting and watching
as love only can
vrijdag, september 13, 2013
donderdag, september 12, 2013
The Second Hand Shop
Down in the grasses
Where the grasshoppers hop
And the katydids quarrel
And the flutter-moths flop --
Down in the grasses
Where the beetle goes "plop"
An old withered fairy
Keeps a second-hand shop.
She sells lost thimbles
For Fairy milk pails
And burnt-out matches
For fence posts and rails.
She sells stray marbles
To bowl on the green,
And bright scattered beads
For the crown of the queen.
Oh, Don't feel badly
Over things that you lose
Like spin tops or whistles
Or dolls buckled shoes;
They may be things that
Fairy folk can use:
For down in the grasses
Where the grasshoppers hop
A withered old fairy
Keeps a second-hand shop.
zondag, september 01, 2013
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)