Isolated Blurt Thread

[matriarch]

Minsue, your new av is gorgeous. (Took me a moment to figure out what it was - it's perfect, too!)

Isn't it just?
Those two adjectives work really well in real life, too.

 

[Nirvanadragones]

On the Road to the Sea: Charlotte Mew

We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
So this hard thing is yet to do.

But first I want your life:--before I die I want to see
The world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,
There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,
Yet on brown fields there lies
A haunting purple bloom: is there not something in grey skies
And in grey sea?
I want what world there is behind your eyes,
I want your life and you will not give it me.

Now, if I look, I see you walking down the years,
Young, and through August fields--a face, a thought, a swinging dream
perched on a stile--;
I would have liked (so vile we are!) to have taught you tears
But most to have made you smile.
To-day is not enough or yesterday: God sees it all--
Your length on sunny lawns, the wakeful rainy nights--; tell me--;
(how vain to ask), but it is not a question--just a call--;
Show me then, only your notched inches climbing up the garden wall,
I like you best when you are small.

Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast,
Still it is there,
And as a flying bird
Brushes the branches where it may not rest
I have brushed your hand and heard
The child in you: I like that best
So small, so dark, so sweet; and were you also then too grave and wise?
Always I think. Then put your far off little hand in mine;--
Oh! let it rest;
I will not stare into the early world beyond the opening eyes,
Or vex or scare what I love best.
But I want your life before mine bleeds away--
Here--not in heavenly hereafters--soon,--
I want your smile this very afternoon,
(The last of all my vices, pleasant people used to say,
I wanted and I sometimes got--the Moon!)

You know, at dusk, the last bird's cry,
And round the house the flap of the bat's low flight,
Trees that go black against the sky
And then--how soon the night!

No shadow of you on any bright road again,
And at the darkening end of this--what voice? whose kiss? As if you'd say!
It is not I who have walked with you, it will not be I who take away
Peace, peace, my little handful of the gleaner's grain
From your reaped fields at the shut of day.

Peace! Would you not rather die
Reeling,--with all the cannons at your ear?
So, at least, would I,
And I may not be here
To-night, to-morrow morning or next year.
Still I will let you keep your life a little while,
See dear?
I have made you smile.

 

[Honey123]

On the Road to the Sea: Charlotte Mew

We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
So this hard thing is yet to do.

But first I want your life:--before I die I want to see
The world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,
There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,
Yet on brown fields there lies
A haunting purple bloom: is there not something in grey skies
And in grey sea?
I want what world there is behind your eyes,
I want your life and you will not give it me.

Now, if I look, I see you walking down the years,
Young, and through August fields--a face, a thought, a swinging dream
perched on a stile--;
I would have liked (so vile we are!) to have taught you tears
But most to have made you smile.
To-day is not enough or yesterday: God sees it all--
Your length on sunny lawns, the wakeful rainy nights--; tell me--;
(how vain to ask), but it is not a question--just a call--;
Show me then, only your notched inches climbing up the garden wall,
I like you best when you are small.

Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast,
Still it is there,
And as a flying bird
Brushes the branches where it may not rest
I have brushed your hand and heard
The child in you: I like that best
So small, so dark, so sweet; and were you also then too grave and wise?
Always I think. Then put your far off little hand in mine;--
Oh! let it rest;
I will not stare into the early world beyond the opening eyes,
Or vex or scare what I love best.
But I want your life before mine bleeds away--
Here--not in heavenly hereafters--soon,--
I want your smile this very afternoon,
(The last of all my vices, pleasant people used to say,
I wanted and I sometimes got--the Moon!)

You know, at dusk, the last bird's cry,
And round the house the flap of the bat's low flight,
Trees that go black against the sky
And then--how soon the night!

No shadow of you on any bright road again,
And at the darkening end of this--what voice? whose kiss? As if you'd say!
It is not I who have walked with you, it will not be I who take away
Peace, peace, my little handful of the gleaner's grain
From your reaped fields at the shut of day.

Peace! Would you not rather die
Reeling,--with all the cannons at your ear?
So, at least, would I,
And I may not be here
To-night, to-morrow morning or next year.
Still I will let you keep your life a little while,
See dear?
I have made you smile.

So pretty

 

[damppanties]

Had forgotten that what matters to me a lot does not matter to everyone else, even friends. It's trivial, forgettable. This makes the ones to whom it does matter all the more precious.

 

[Honey123]

Had forgotten that what matters to me a lot does not matter to everyone else, even friends. It's trivial, forgettable. This makes the ones to whom it does matter all the more precious.

You matter...so anything that matters to you, does matter as well...

(and you're precious)

 

[damppanties]

You matter...so anything that matters to you, does matter as well...

(and you're precious)

 

[lucky-E-leven]

Mmmmm... Good waffles.

 

[Honey123]

Mmmmm... Good waffles.

I have to eat breakfast.

 

[Edge23]

Unrelated to Anything but Me Feeling Sorry For Myself...

I didn't realize cutting up and moving a hot tub could be THAT hard.

I ache in places I didn't even know I had places.

 

[bashfull]

Wishing I were breakfast. lol.

 

[Liar]

I've never been more desperate for a banana in my life.

 

[Aurora Black]

Titanic! Oooh!

Scary Titanic

The Ring! OOOHHHH!

Death Tape

 

[joeys-game]

Last night was a write off!!!

 

[artisticbiguy]

uhm, the one you have right now is both and something else. *r-clicks ABG's av*

I had to hunt to find something to make a stab at matching yours! *running the pointer over the tats again*

 

[artisticbiguy]

*grin*

That alone is worth getting back for.

Apologies for my absence, and humblest thanks for the very kind decision not to celebrate it with sighs of relief and a public roasting of my dubious character.

Special for Carson, of course.

Shanglan

*stroking the equine's mane*

 

[artisticbiguy]

She wrote a letter on PINK paper to include with the skates.

You wear that abstrusion well there IMP

 

[English Lady]

packing -where do I start?

 

[BlackShanglan]

Roast character is more of a winter dish, don't you think?

It goes beautifully with roast ... bird.

I absolutely LOVE seeing that goose back in the AV!

 

[BlackShanglan]

I almost hate it when i finish a good book. It's over you know. I mean I could re-read it or start the series over yet again, but it doesn't make the feeling go away. It takes so long to find a book I enjoy it sucks when the last page is read.

I soooo know what you're talking about. It's a feeling of desolation. For a few days you lived in a technicolor other world, and now everything is black and white again. (Rather overdramatic phrases by me, but they convey the feeling.)

Yes. It's a wretched feeling, sometimes - desolating if the end of the work is barren. It can be uplifting as well, to me, but it's always a feeling of loss if the book was good - a noooo! as the last page is turned.

I can still remember the depression I felt when I realized that I had read the last new Sherlock Holmes story I would ever read in my life. No more. Ever. . Thank God some authors have an infinite capacity for re-reading and continual opening of new ideas. I don't think I could bear it if I ever felt I had seen the last new thought of Oscar Wilde. God bless him for being light years ahead of my feeble brain.

Shanglan

 

[Guest]

 

[mcopado]

Last night was a write off!!!

are you talking about the world cup or your love life?

*Unrelated Blurt*

Women!!!
You can't live with em, you cant'........

 

[impressive]

You wear that abstrusion well there IMP

Thanks.

 

[Aurora Black]

Stella...

"The Libertine" is out on DVD...

 

[minsue]

Minsue, your new av is gorgeous. (Took me a moment to figure out what it was - it's perfect, too!)

Isn't it just?
Those two adjectives work really well in real life, too.

 

[FallingToFly]

Painting the eldest's bedroom while on a conference call with some good friends... fun for the mommies of the world!