Latest Entries »

peacocks


img075

A peacock has many feathers.
Each one holds a secret,
A confession,
A prayer,
A hope.
If this peacock gets lost
And is found by the wrong folk,
He will be plucked of his secrets, confessoins, prayers, hopes.
Standing bare for all to see-
Where this bird started out
And how he grew to be
Complex,
Twisted, yet so
Beautiful.

12-8-11

unfriend-1i7f8zx

a couple a days ago i hit the 300 followed by other mark.

today 297 …..??? who left me ??? why ….was it me …..???

i am totally hart ripped …..wheeeeee ….wheeeee …….

…………………………….

okay i cried about it , now lets move on and see what whe can do today :)

the weather is good so maybe i can take some shots , what are you people gonna do today ?

what ever you do today make sure you have fun at what you’re doing ,if you hate you’re work….,

find a job that you love to do …….you have too see people you don’t like ….than don’t…..???

take the best and enjoy leave the rest ……….enjoy the best of life .

greetings :)

 


img074

Mamba in de boom


img073

De groene mamba heeft zich gespecialiseerd in het vangen van vogels, kleine zoogdieren en hagedissen. De kaken kunnen letterlijk ontwricht worden om heel grote prooien te verorberen; slangen doen dat niet graag omdat ze kwetsbaarder zijn voor predatoren en een week nodig hebben om een grote prooi te verteren. De groene mamba is berucht om de beet vanwege het sterke zenuwgif dat uiteindelijk bij een mens de ademhaling kan stoppen waarna de dood intreedt, meestal al binnen twaalf uur. De slang is erg snel en kan tijdens een aanval meerdere keren bijten, wat de overlevingskans verkleint. De groene mamba staat bekend als veel minder agressief dan de zwarte mamba

(Dendroaspis polylepis).


img072

deze groene mamba heb ik afgelopen uren getekend als ontspanningsoefening , samen met meditatie muziek op de koptelefoon ik ga zo helemaal “Zen” naar mijn bedje toe .

een goede nacht lieve mensen .

hans stellingsma .


img071

medusa.

Seizoenen

De sneeuwt huilt
in water stromen
naar de zee.

Knijp de wolken uit
de grijze lucht
huilt mee.

Het water schijnt
gele gloed
verblind mijn ogen
kijk je mee?

Zie de zon lacht
in de blauwe lucht
en ik lach mee.

human VS Animal


img068

Is it legal for me
To call myself an animal?
Whilst human is what I try to be

For the animal in me
Is transparent to see
If I get scared I plea or flee

Sometimes I show bravery like a lion
With nerves of steel made of iron

Sometimes I give off a scent
In the heat of the moment

As a woman I have my season
When you can capture me on the heat
Till today, I do not understand the reason
Why I hunt then, like an animal hunting for its meat

The animal in me is confused
The human in me is amused

Is it legal for me
To call myself an animal?
Without being a cannibal

I know my right from wrong
Taught by my guardians tongue
But even an animal knows where it belongs
Whilst trained with the right punishment song

The fact is actual
I am an animal
Being human is my identity
While the only difference of reality;
Is the language! Ah ha! The language!
The language in which we all engage

Copyright 2006 – Sylvia Chidi


img068

Is it legal for me
To call myself an animal?
Whilst human is what I try to be

For the animal in me
Is transparent to see
If I get scared I plea or flee

Sometimes I show bravery like a lion
With nerves of steel made of iron

Sometimes I give off a scent
In the heat of the moment

As a woman I have my season
When you can capture me on the heat
Till today, I do not understand the reason
Why I hunt then, like an animal hunting for its meat

The animal in me is confused
The human in me is amused

Is it legal for me
To call myself an animal?
Without being a cannibal

I know my right from wrong
Taught by my guardians tongue
But even an animal knows where it belongs
Whilst trained with the right punishment song

The fact is actual
I am an animal
Being human is my identity
While the only difference of reality;
Is the language! Ah ha! The language!
The language in which we all engage

Copyright 2006 – Sylvia Chidi


img066

The sleeping Tiger lies in a mist, covered in mystery.
Who is he, what is his purpose?
The sleeping Flame lies in a cloud, shrouded by time.
Who is she, what is her purpose?
As the could falls in the night, and mingles in the mist… the Flame touches the Tiger and both awaken. The Flame brightens and swirls around the Tiger, the Tiger roars as the flames engulf him and he transforms into the wise Dragon. The Flame crackles as the Dragon’s roar sounds through the night. The crackle becomes a cry of joy as the Dragon breathes a breath of fire upon the Flame, adding his burning love to hers. The Flame turns into a fiery bird with a great
cry. A Phoenix has been born, and a Dragon has grown in the fires of love. This bond forged is stronger than steel, stronger than the very foundations of the earth.
Nothing and no one can break this love. The love of the Dragon and the Phoenix will live beyond the end of time, their hearts forever entwined. Purpose has been found, the balance formed by the Dragon and Phoenix that awakened them is their purpose. The love they share forever is a shining light for all who despair; the Dragon and Phoenix are smiled upon by the Creator for they are what he intended love between two to be.


img050

PRINCES, my fair, unfortunately great,
Born to the pompous vassalage of state,
Whene’er the public calls, are doom’d to fly
Domestic bliss, and break the private tye.
Fame pays with empty breath the toils they bear,
And love’s soft joys are chang’d for glorious care.
Yet conscious virtue, in the silent hour,
Rewards the hero with a noble dower.
For this alone I dar’d to part with thee.
But while my bosom feels the nobler flame,
Still, unreprov’d, it owns thy gentler claim.
Tho’ virtue’s awful form my soul approves.
‘Tis thine, thine only, ZARA, that it loves.
A private lot had made the claim but one,
The prince alone must love, for virtue, shun.
Ah! why, distinguish’d from the happier croud.
To me the bliss of millions disallow’d?
Why was I singl’d for imperial sway,
Since love, and duty, point a diff’rent way?
Fix’d the dread voyage, and the day decreed,
When duty’s victim, love was doom’d to bleed,
Too well my mem’ry can those scenes renew,
We met to sigh, to weep our last adieu .
That conscious palm, beneath whose tow’ring shade
So oft our vows of mutual love were made;
Where hope so oft anticipated joy,
And plann’d of future years the blest employ;
That palm was witness to the tears we shed,
When that fond hope, and all those joys were fled,
Thy trembling lips, with trembling lips, I press’d,
And held thee panting, to my panting breast.
Our sorrow, grown too mighty to sustain,
Now snatch’d us, fainting, from the sense of pain.
Together sinking us in the trance divine,
I caught thy fleeting soul, and gave thee mine.
O! blest oblivion of tormenting care!
O! why recall’d to life and to despair?
The dreadful summons came, to part – and why?
Why not the kinder summons but to die?
To die together were to part no more,
To land in safety on some peaceful shore,
Where love’s the business of immortal life?
And happy spirits only guess at strife.
‘ If in some distant land my prince should find
‘ Some nymph more fair, you cry’d, as ZARA kind -
Mysterious doubt ! which cou’d at once impart
Relief to mine, and anguish to thy heart.
Still let me triumph in the fear exprest,
The voice of love that whisper’d in thy breast ;
Nor call me cruel, for my truth shall prove
‘Twas but the vain anxiety of love.
TORN from thy fond embrace, the strand I gain,
Where mourning friends inflict superfluous pain ;
My father there his struggling sighs suppress’d,
And in dumb anguish clasp’d me to his breast ;
Then sought, conceal’d the conflict of his mind,
To give the fortitude he could not find,
Each life-taught precept kindly he renew’d,
‘ Thy country’s good, said he, he still persu’d!
‘ If, when the Gods shall here my son restore,
‘ These eyes shall sleep in death, to wake no more ;
‘ If then these limbs, that now in age decay,
‘ Shall mold’ring mix with earth’s parental clay ;
‘ Round my green tomb perform the sacred rite,
‘ Assume my throne, and let thy yoke be light;
‘ From lands of freedom glorious precepts bring,
‘ And reign at once a father and a king.
How vainly proud, the arrogantly great
Presume to boast a monarch’s godlike state!
Subject alike, the peasant and the king,
To life’s dark ills, and care’s corroding sting.
From guilt and fraud, that strikes in silence sure,
No shield can guard us, and no arms secure.
By these, my fair, subdu’d , thy prince was lost,
A naked captive on a barb’rous coast.
Nurtur’d in ease, a thousand servants round,
My wants prevented, and my wishes crown’d ;
No painful labours stretch’d the tedious day,
On downy feet my moment danc’d away.
Whene’er I look’d, officious courtiers bow’d,
Wher’er I pass’d, a shouting people crowd;
No fears intruded on the joys I knew,
Each man, my friend, my lovely mistress you.
What dreadful change! abandon’d and alone,
The shouted prince is now a slave unknown ;
To watch his eye, no bending courtiers wait,
No hailing crowds proclaim his regal state ;
A slave, condemn’d with unrewarded toil,
To turn, from more to eve, a burning soil.
Fainting beneath the Sun’s meridian heat,
Rouz’d by the scourge, the taunting jest I meet:
Thanks to thy friends, they cry, whose care recalls
A prince to life, in whom a nation falls !
Unwholsome scraps my strengths but half sustain’d,
From corner’s glean’d, and ev’n by dogs disdain’d ;
At night I mingled with a wretched crew,
Who by long use with woe familiar grew;
Of manners brutish, merciless and rude,
They mock’d my suff’rings and my pangs renew’d;
In groans, not sleep, I pass’d the weary night,
And rose to labour with the morning light.
Yet, thus of dignity land ease beguil’d,
Thus scorn’d and scourg’d, insulted and revil’d,
If heav’n with thee my faithful arms had bles’d,
And fill’d with love my intervals of rest,
Short tho’ they were, my soul had never known.
One secret wish to glitter on a throne ;
The toilsome day had heard no sigh of mine,
Nor stripes, nor scorn, had urg’d me to repine.
A monarch still, beyond, a monarch blest;
Thy love my diadem, my throne thy breast ;
My courtiers, watchful of my looks, thy eyes,
Shou’d shine, persuade, arid flatter, and advise ;
Ah ! not the prison of a slave in me !
Cou’d I with infamy content remain,
And wish thy lovely form to share my chain ?
And let the love, that sinn’d, atone the fault.
Cou’d I, a slave, and hopeless to be free,
Crawl, tamely recent from the scourge, to thee?
Thy blooming beauties cou’d these arms embrace?
My guilty joys, enslave an infant race?
No : rather blast me lightnings, whirlwinds tear,
And drive these limbs in atoms thro’ the air ;
Rather than this, O ! Curse nme still with life,
And let my ZARA, smile a rival’s wife:
Be mine alone th’ accumulated woe,
Nor let me propagate my curse below,
BUT, from this dreadful scene, with joy, I turn,
To trust in heav’n, of me, let ZARA learn.
The wretch, the sordid hypocrite, that sold
His charge, an unsuspecting prince, for gold,
That justice mark’d, whose eyes can never sleep,
And death, commission’d, smote him on the deep.
The gen’rous crew their port in safety gain,
And tell my mournful tale, nor tell in vain ;
The king, with horror of th’ atrocious deed,
In haste commanded, and the slave was free’d.
No more BRITTANIA’S cheek, the blush of shame
Burns for my wrongs, her king restores her fame :
Propitious gales, to freedom’s happy shore,
Wast me triumphant, and the prince restore;
Whate’er is great and gay around me shine,
And all the splendor of a court is mine.
And knowledge here, by piety refin’d,
Sheds a blest radiance o’er my bright’ning mind ;
From earth I travel upward to the sky ,
I learn to live, to reign, yet more, to die.
O ! I have tales to tell, of love divine -
Such blissful tidings ! they shall soon be thine.
I long to tell thee, what amaz’d, I see,
What habits, buildings, trades, and polity;
How art and nature vye to entertain,
In public shows, and mix delight with pain.
O ! ZARA, & here, a story like my own,
With mimic skill, in borrow’d names, was shown ;
An Indian chief, like me, by fraud betray’d,
And partner in his woes, an Indian maid.
I can’t recall the scene, ’tis pain too great,
And, if recall’d should shudder to relate.
To write the wonders here, I strive in vain ;
Each word wou’d ask a thousand to explain.
The time shall come, O! speed the ling’ring hour!
When ZARA’s charms shall lend description pow’r;
When plac’d beside thee, in the cool alcove,
Or through the green Savannah as we rove,
The frequent kiss shall interrupt the tale,
And looks shall speak my sense, tho’ language fail.
Then shall the prodigies, that round me rise,
Fill thy dear bosom with a sweet surprize;
Then all my knowledge, to thy faithful heart,
With danger gain’d, securely I’ll impart.
Methinks I see thy charming looks express
Th’ alternate sense of pleasure and distress ;
As all the windings of my fate I trace,
And wing thy fancy swift from place to place.
Yet where, alas! has flatt’ring thoughts convey’d
The ravish’d lover, with his darling maid?
Between us, still, unmeasur’d main,
And hostile barks infest, and storms controul.
Be calm my bosom, since th’ unmeasur’d main,
And hostile barks, and storms, are God’s domain :
He rules resistless, and his pow’r shall guide
My life in safety o’er the roaring tide ;
Shall bless the love, that’s built on virtue’s base,
And spare me to evangelize my race.
Farewel! thy prince still lives, and still is free:
Farewel! hope all things, and remember Me.
William Dodd

Volg

Ontvang elk nieuw bericht direct in je inbox.

Doe mee met 435 andere volgers