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The Tortoise and the Hare
A Tortoise going on foot, a Hare was for long time was mocking..
To whom, by the way grinning at, “I tell the truth, I say however much quick you are, if I race you however, I will overcome you ”.
“Now, that is impossible what you predict!” asserted the Hare. “With me, I say Oh tortoise! in a contest I approach you. I am indeed strong of foot, clearly you know. ”
At which the Turtle murmured “Is there another of us. I say at the end of th course we can appoint as to discern and commend victory?” At that a fox, heavily puffed up with vanity keener than the rest “the beginning and end, and also the race course location I will trace out.”
So Turtle with no delay being taken, right of way, pronto seized the way towards commanding to the end.
At length came however the Hare meanwhile with his feet pain
The Tortoise and The Hare
'What a dull heavy creature," said a bright-eyed, nimble-footed Hare, "is this some plodding Tortoise! He trudges along in the mud, neither looking to the right nor to the left, only caring to nibble such of the driest grass and the dirtiest roots as come in his way, and making no more progress in a day's march than I can accomplish in two or three careless bounds!"
"And yet," said the Tortoise (in hearing the speech had been made for his humiliation), "although I have neither your lightness of foot, nor the compact and powerful symmetry of your haunches, I will undertake to run you for a wager."
"Agreed!" said the Hare, contemptuously. So a goal was named, and away they started together. The Tortoise kept jogging along at his usual rate, and was soon left behind and out of sight of the Hare, who, tired of running alone in a given direction, fell to browsing on choice plants, and then went off to a game of play
RainLife's a river of vitality
filled with love that comes from no where
you can either ask for more water
so you have some more to splash back in,
so it may come back to you in equal portions of rain.
Or you can make it out of no where
Gallus by Virgil
This now, the very latest of my toils,
Vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I
Sing a brief song to Gallus- brief, but yet
Such as Lycoris' self may fitly read.
Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou
Beneath Sicanian billows glidest on,
May Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
Begin! The love of Gallus be our theme,
And the shrewd pangs he suffered, while, hard by,
The flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.
We sing not to deaf ears; no word of ours
But the woods echo it. What groves or lawns
Held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love-
Love all unworthy of a loss so dear-
Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopes
Of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,
No, nor Aonian Aganippe. Him
Even the laurels and the tamarisks wept;
For him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,
Wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty crags
Of cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around-
Of us they feel no shame, poet divine;
Nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fair
Adonis by the rivers fed his sheep-
it perches on my rounded lips
as a bird prepared for flight.
I will fill it with my soul
until it's bulging - days stretched
so thin they hardly separate
and butterfly mornings blur
into strawberry eves.
In a blink it will be gone,
a breath too hard and
Autumn in My BloodLustrous morning jeweled with dew
Spirited brown sugar winds
Summer's haze is stripped away
The sky shines like crystal
Every tree a tapestry
A masterpiece of color
Lively air spices my lungs
And whips my hair around me
The earth is awake with every fiber
A festival of roguish splendor
Beauty, Concerning a Spider WebDew drops catch the first light
From the rising sun, still stretching
As it awakens for another day,
It’s routine tasks unchanged.
The shadows shrink as the new day dawns,
The heat of day lighting up everything.
Not much is hidden from its scorching rays
As the day burns on.
The web, now devoid of moisture,
Is hidden from view, remaining
Invisible to all who pass it by,
Its beauty unrecognized.
As the sun starts it's eventual descent,
The world becomes restless as the
Light it adjusted to for vision
Starts to fade.
Shadows stretch across the ground,
Darkness slowly taking over as
The moon graces the sky, taking watch
Over the world below.
Soft white light bathes the world,
Dancing along the surface and
Adding a sense of wonder.
And the spider web, forgotten during
The day, now catches the moonlight as it
Dances along it's threads, bringing it to life.
Nature then readies to repeat its melody.
the creekilluminated green shivers
slender brown skeletons bear their life-giving factories
thick brown spines burrow deeper
water rolls and falls over ancient pressed earth
taking some with it on its journey
challenging the fish with its never ending agility
dainty aviators alight on tall grass
their iridescent bodies scatter sun
the light which makes the whole place glow
little skaters skate on melted, moving ice that bends to their will
they skate in groups, they scatter when approached
their long insect legs splayed
small birds whistle for attention
black-feathered scavengers boast about themselves
shrill cries come from birds of prey
bare-headed vultures are silent, only watchful and observant
New MoonI saw garish eyes of the skies
Sun and Moon in the ties
The husky east wind blew
Playing that dusky tune
The day effaced itself
Extinguishing it's hearth
The evening mourning time
When day and night combine
Then I saw springing stars
Blooming in nightly tars
Falling from their affixion
Burning out from the friction
Looking like fiery slashes
Turning out into ashes
I didn't make a wish
Not to feel too selfish
White clouds dyed black by night
Covered the sky ruining the sight
Lower and lower the moon went down
Behind the horizon to finally drown
Like into attar to bless a new morn
When Sun peeked afar, a new day was born
Halfassed Nature poemYou took my body
from the end
to the end.
You have become a parasite.
Bigger than the ones that ride
Tore me limb to limb.
Like the laws of nature
like a mother
I will set you to right.
shall be put to control.
Put to rest.
Like any other species
I will send a disease.
This epidemic will bring balance.
The loss will cut the numbers
just as you did to me.
And I shall claim myself back.
Unpleased with the creatures that have possessed me.
I cleans myself.
I will fight for myself.
My name is Earth.
ConstellationsInterconnections is quite intriguing
On one side you have brilliance
The other is dull to everyone else's view
The beauty of it all is the line...
The small line between amazing and wow
For what we hear is, "there's the silver lining!"
"The great dipper! I can see it!"
For the small diamonds are multiplying
They never leave and are our foundation
For we make a wish on a little light
We say please come true!
We rub our hands together and close our eyes tight
Tight enough to see the stars in our heart
We allow the light shine
And let the stars take us away
For everyone that wishes on a star builds something grand
They build a bridge that connects our hopes and dreams
And when we see it in the sky we build our little name
The name of infinity and beauty
Our little constellation in the sky
The SkyGo Outside and lay on the Grass
Look up toward the Sky
The Sky is like an Ocean,
And white Sea foam
Watch the Clouds shift slowly,
As they make their way across the Sky
As they travel,
spots of blue peak through the cracks
Nowhere to be seen
Hiding behind the misty Clouds
The Breeze blows gently
The Crickets chirp happily
Clouds form pictures to entertain
A silly face,
Or a mythical creature
One never gets bored,
Whilst watching the Sky
Be it Day,
To be free to move as a Cloud,
How wonderful it could be
Up above with deep blues,
And gentle whites
Take the time,
To go Outside,
And enjoy the Sky
lookin for Wild mountain honey
I sit among a concrete mangle of trees, wondering have all the streams slowed to a crawl and who among remembers them on a wild afternoon. I hope to all dance here under the milky way one night, but is there still gold in the hills to be waged for. Because I have tasted what these places hold, and there is none like that grown in the light strewn of kindred souls.
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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