Random Image

Feeding Fish

Owner: Shirley
Welcome to Seniors & Friends. Please login or sign up.

March 28, 2024, 08:19:16 AM

Login with username, password and session length

Shoutbox

2024-03-22, 14:15:18
Domestic Goddess: Pollock Fillets seasoned with Mrs. Dash Lemon Pepper, Bush's Best Brown Sugar Hickory Baked Beans, Green Grapes and Chocolate Chip Cookies that my husband prepared.  Sorry about the previous type error with my last post.

2024-03-22, 14:03:04
Domestic Goddess: Pollock Fillets seasoned with Mrs. Dash

2024-03-22, 09:31:45
Domestic Goddess: Is this correct, if one would like to post/share a recipe, we do so here?  If so, was searching to see if there were separate recipe categories?

2024-02-21, 22:30:59
Oldiesmann: The chat can be accessed from the menu but I don't kow how often anyone is in there

2024-02-20, 23:18:48
alpiner1: Is the chat live ?

2024-02-19, 23:20:20
junee: Junee

2024-01-30, 11:45:01
Astro: Periodically I use it.

2024-01-29, 20:17:44
mycheal: Love the chat  off and on

2024-01-14, 21:12:20
Oldiesmann: Just curious. Does anyone still use the chat? It doesn't make any difference to me since it's a free service. Just wondering

2023-11-28, 19:23:29
JeanneP: Stiil trying to let Julee know that my EM is   gmjeannep2@gmail.com  and that the  old Comcast on is no longer work, it was to old and they dont do EM anymore


avatar_Jeanne Lee

Poetry

Started by Jeanne Lee, April 02, 2016, 01:56:33 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Marilyne

Sato - Welcome back!  So good to have you with us again.  I'm looking forward to your messages, your poetry, and your comments. :thumbup: 

Sato

            BIG CATCH

At sunrise, glorious sunrise
it's a big catch!
A big catch of sardines!
On the beach, it's like a festival
but in the sea, they will hold funerals
for the tens thousands dead.

((C)2016 Sally Ito, Michiko Tsuuboi, Chin Music Press)
.... original: Misuzu Kaneko (1903-30)
Photos and Videos are my Hobbies. (S.Sato)

Vanilla-Jackie

#92
Sadly I passed a funeral today, passed twice....on the way going and on the way back, as they were on there way into the church, the hearse car was sitting outside, then as they were on there way back to theirs cars, or walking the short distance to their homes, everyone was dressed in their finest black clothes....just the next village away....This is the same village where a little boy was supposedly murdered by his step- daddy last year, his trial I believe is soon to be taking place....Strangely this little boys home was a group of three terraced homes next door to another close by, but smaller church...today's church was just a very short distance further along the road....

Sato, yes on the land and the sea, we are totally unaware of what is happening...food for thought that, deep in our seas can hold so much tragedies.....To this day it is still very much a mystery as to what happened to the..." Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370 " and its passengers...
" There is no present like the time "

Marilyne

Sato - Interesting poem about the sardines.  Is that the way you fish for sardines?  When I was a teenager and living in Southern California, we used to go to the beach at night when there was a full moon, to go grunion hunting!  Grunion is a small fish about the size of a sardine, and when there was a full moon, they would wash up on the shore to spawn. . . thousands of them in every wave.  We would scoop them up and throw them in buckets.  Very exciting, with lots of laughing and slipping on the fish in the shallow water. 

I think Grunion are a species of sardines, but I'm not sure?  I'll have to Google and find out.   

Sato

Interesting stories, thank you!
Photos and Videos are my Hobbies. (S.Sato)

Vanilla-Jackie

As we no longer have our " Tranquil Cove..." I shall post this in here.... This is especially for those in hospital...



Poem Title: "Hope must be at all times"

Poem by: anonymous


You can live three weeks without food.
You can live three days without water.
But you cannot live three minutes without hope.
" There is no present like the time "

Marilyne

Good morning Jackie:  Thanks for reminding us to always have "Hope".  That's a good thought, first thing in the morning.  It's not yet 7:30 here, so I'm still not completely awake.  Another cup of coffee should help! :cup:

so_P_bubble

I am only one,
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something;
And because I cannot do everything,
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

-Edward Everett Hale, author (3 Apr 1822-1909)

JeanneP

Does anyone remember having to read this poem in School. We had to Recite what we remembered
I was reading something the other day which said "The Boy stood on the burning Deck" It brought the poem to me.  Not that I remember any of it.

  CASABIANCA.



The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle’s wreck,
Shone round him o’er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though childlike form.

The flames rolled on â€" he would not go,
Without his father’s word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud â€" ‘Say, father, say
If yet my task is done?’
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

‘Speak, father!’ once again he cried,
‘If I may yet be gone!’
â€" And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath
And in his waving hair;
And look’d from that lone post of death,
In still yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,
‘My father! must I stay?’
While o’er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapped the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound â€"
The boy â€" oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part,
But the noblest thing which perished there,
Was that young faithful heart.
Image © Felicia Dorothea Hemans after Unknown artist © National Portrai
JeanneP

maryc

Good morning and Happy Thanksgiving!    In preparation for our family gathering, I was getting my apple pie ready for transporting and thought of the traditional addition of a slice of cheese.    Our great granddaughter age 9 is quite inquisitive about things that are new for her and we have talked a bit about this custom before.   Anyway I took out my favorite block of sharp cheddar and sliced a few slices to take along.....not everyone is so old fashioned as Granny.   In thinking about the cheese and apple pie I decided to do just a little research and came across this poem by Eugene Field and thought I'd share it this Thanksgiving morning.

  Poems by Eugene Field : 33 / 287 Apple-Pie And Cheese - Poem by Eugene Field         
   Full many a sinful notion
Conceived of foreign powers
Has come across the ocean
To harm this land of ours;
And heresies called fashions
Have modesty effaced,
And baleful, morbid passions
Corrupt our native taste.
O tempora! O mores!
What profanations these
That seek to dim the glories
Of apple-pie and cheese!

I'm glad my education
Enables me to stand
Against the vile temptation
Held out on every hand;
Eschewing all the tittles
With vanity replete,
I'm loyal to the victuals
Our grandsires used to eat!
I'm glad I've got three willing boys
To hang around and tease
Their mother for the filling joys
Of apple-pie and cheese!

Your flavored creams and ices
And your dainty angel-food
Are mighty fine devices
To regale the dainty dude;
Your terrapin and oysters,
With wine to wash 'em down,
Are just the thing for roisters
When painting of the town;
No flippant, sugared notion
Shall my appetite appease,
Or bate my soul's devotion
To apple-pie and cheese!

The pie my Julia makes me
(God bless her Yankee ways!)
On memory's pinions takes me
To dear Green Mountain days;
And seems like I see Mother
Lean on the window-sill,
A-handin' me and brother
What she knows 'll keep us still;
And these feelings are so grateful,
Says I, 'Julia, if you please,
I'll take another plateful
Of that apple-pie and cheese! '

And cheese! No alien it, sir,
That's brought across the sea,-
No Dutch antique, nor Switzer,
Nor glutinous de Brie;
There's nothing I abhor so
As mawmets of this ilk-
Give me the harmless morceau
That's made of true-blue milk!
No matter what conditions
  Dyspeptic come to feaze,
The best of all physicians
Is apple-pie and cheese!

Though ribalds may decry 'em,
For these twin boons we stand,
Partaking thrice per diem
Of their fulness out of hand;
No enervating fashion
Shall cheat us of our right
To gratify our passion
With a mouthful at a bite!
We'll cut it square or bias,
Or any way we please,
And faith shall justify us
When we carve our pie and cheese!

De gustibus, 't is stated,
Non disputandum est.
Which meaneth, when translated,
That all is for the best.
So let the foolish choose 'em
The vapid sweets of sin,
I will not disabuse 'em
Of the heresy they're in;
But I, when I undress me
Each night, upon my knees
Will ask the Lord to bless me
With apple-pie and cheese!

  Eugene Field
Mary C

Mary Ann

Mary C, I seldom look in the Poetry folder (and few others do too), but I saw your name so decided to look in.  My nephew and I are going to his son's for the day and we are taking two pies; neither of them is Apple, but one is Pumpkin and the other is Cherry.  I don't have the patience or stamina to peel apples and I don't want to use canned apples (canned cherry is OK).  Maybe some day I'll get ambitious and fix an honest-to-gosh Apple Pie and there will be cheddar cheese with it.

I copied and saved the poem.

Have a good Thanksgiving Day.

Mary Ann

Marilyne

mary - Thanks for posting Apple Pie and Cheese by Eugene Field.  He's one of my childhood favorites, along with Robert Lewis Stevenson.  I had a book of poems by both, but the one I remember of Field's, is Wynken, Blynken and Nod.  It was one that my mother read to me before bed at night, when I was very young.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
   Sailed off in a wooden shoe,â€"
Sailed on a river of crystal light
   Into a sea of dew.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
   The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish for the herring-fish
   That live in this beautiful sea;
   Nets of silver and gold have we,"
            Said Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
   As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
   Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
   That lived in the beautiful sea.
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,â€"
   Never afraid are we!”
   So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
            Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
   To the stars in the twinkling foam,â€"
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
   Bringing the fishermen home:
‘Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
   As if it could not be;
And some folk thought ‘twas a dream they’d dreamed
   Of sailing that beautiful sea;
   But I shall name you the fishermen three:
            Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
   And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
   Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
   Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
   As you rock in the misty sea
   Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:â€"
            Wynken,
            Blynken,
            And Nod.

maryc

Marilyne,   My grandmother used to recite Wynken, Blynken and Nod to us quite often.   It paints delightful mind pictures, doesn't it?

On my bookshelf is a small book called A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson.   Originally it had a hard cover but after 80 years of tumbling around through the family collection it is reduced to just the front and back pages for covers.  I must have nearly memorized that little book in my early reading years.    We didn't have piles of books as children but what we had we read and re read.   
Mary C

Mary Ann

Marilyne, I liked reading Wynken, Blynken and Nod as it had been many years since I had read it.

MaryC, I think we had a book of A Child's Garden of Verses but I have no idea what might have happened to it.  When my nephews were small, I bought another book and I still have that.  Every so often I will read a poem and remember reading or hearing it when I was a child.

Mary Ann

Marilyne

mary - I also have my childhood copy of RL Stevenson's, A Child's Garden of Verses.  The illustrations are beautiful!  I remember liking "The Swing", and "The Land of Counterpane", which was about playing with your toys in bed, when you were sick.  There was also one about "My Shadow", that I especially liked.

My mother had a beautiful hard bound book of the long narrative poem, The Song of Hiawatha, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. (which I still have).  The illustrations, by Harrison Fisher, are absolutely gorgeous!  The full page watercolor pictures fascinated me when I was a little girl, and I recall sitting and looking at them over and over again.  The ones of Minnehaha, were especially lovely, and the one at the end,  that showed Minnehaha, on her deathbed, made a real impression on me.  I still have the book, and I would like to actually read the entire poem!  I've never gotten past the first couple of chapters. 

Mary Ann

Marilyne, I have a book given to me by my mother's cousin and copywrited 1898 - The Counterpane Fairy - which has stories about the blocks in the counterpane and the fairy takes the child to various places.  I have read the book but not recently; maybe I should.

Mary Ann

donklan

Not sure if this will get the recognition it deserves here but seems the most likely Forum for it...........

This is a good one to think about!

A  CHRISTMAS POEM

‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE,
IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,
AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,
NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE.
    NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,
ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.
  WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,
A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND.
FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,
I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER, ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.
THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING, SILENT, ALONE,
CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER,
NOT HOW I PICTURED A UNITED STATES SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?
CURLED UP ON A PONCHO , THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALIZED THE FAMILIES THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,
OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS  WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON ROUND THE WORLD, THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,
AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,
BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS, LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.
I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY LAY ALONE,
ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.
THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE,
I DROPPED TO MY KNEES AND STARTED TO CRY.
THE SOLDIER AWAKENED AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,
"SANTA DON'T CRY, THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;
  I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,
MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS."
  THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,
I COULDN'T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP.
I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS, SO SILENT AND STILL
AND WE BOTH SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.
I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,
THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR SO WILLING TO FIGHT.
THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,
WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA, IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
  This poem was written by a Marine. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable.....
  PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon, and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe.

Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please, do your small part to plant this small seed.

Click for Neenah, WI Forecast

Marilyne

Donklan,
Thank you so much for posting this very special Christmas poem. 
I sent it on to my husband, and others who I know will appreciate it.
Some wonderful Christmas sentiment there!

Every Christmas I post the following poem by Longfellow, and every time I do, I'm saddened because the world never changes.  There is always a war going on somewhere in the world, and I'm afraid there always will be.  I used to believe in Peace on Earth, someday, but now I am doubtful?

I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannons thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The Carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
'There is no peace on earth,' I said;
'For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!'

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
'God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!'

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

donklan

MARILYNE:

I agree with you ......


IF ONLY.........................

Click for Neenah, WI Forecast

MarsGal

I just discovered this discussion group. It took me so long because I was never a big fan of poetry, a result, I think, of an over zealous poetry loving 8th grade teacher. Anyway, this morning I found this book of poems which I like on Project Gutenberg during my morning cruise through it. New York Nocturnes and Other Poems by Sir Charles. G. D. Roberts. Roberts is considered the Father of Canadian Poetry and wrote many novels and some non-fiction as well.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56418


Marilyne

MarsGal - Thanks for posting that link to the Roberts poetry book.  I clicked on it, and read a couple of the New York poems, and will go back later and take a look at some of the others.  I enjoy poems from that era, even though they are often very flowery and dramatic.  About twenty years ago, I picked up a poetry book, at a garage sale, that I absolutely love.  The poet is Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and I have often posted her poems in this folder.  I had never heard of her before buying that book, but later found out that she is fairly well known.  A quote from one of her poems, which rings true:
"Laugh and the world laughs with you -
Weep, and you weep alone".
 

MarsGal

Dust off your Robby Burns poetry and celebrate. Tonight is the night. NO, I didn't eat haggis at dinner tonight as is traditional for the very enthusiastic. I had pork.

Lindancer

Danklan & Marilyne this is a little late, but thanks for those lovely Christmas poems.

MarsGal, I never was much into poetry untils my son started writing poems. In grade school we seem we had to learn, by heart so many poems. Although, I read poems to my sons nearly every night. For Mark he wanted me to read Little Orphan Annie and Dennis always like Casey at The Bat.  I still have that book of poems, Best Loved Poems of the American People.

I am glad I rediscovered this forum

Click for Riverhead, NY Forecast

Vanilla-Jackie

#113
Not the correct month for posting this but a friend on my UK forum posted it...not a poem I have come across before....

" The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing is a war memorial in Ypres, Belgium, dedicated to the British and Commonwealth soldiers who were killed in the Ypres Salient of World War I and whose graves are unknown. The memorial is located at the eastern exit of the town and marks the starting point for one of the main roads out of the town that led Allied soldiers to the front line. Designed by Sir Reginald Blomfield and built and maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, the Menin Gate Memorial was unveiled on 24 July 1927."

You might also find this link of interest as well...
" ‘Anon.’ no longer: the author of ‘Man at Arms’ revealed.

https://simonjoneshistorian.com/2014/02/02/anon-no-longer-the-author-of-man-at-arms-revealed/



Man at Arms

What are you guarding, Man-at-Arms?

Why do you watch and wait?

'I guard the graves, said the Man-at-Arms

I guard the graves by Flanders farms

Where the dead wil rise at my call to arms,

And march to the Menin gate'.



'When do they march then,Man-at-Arms?

Cold is the hour-and late'

'They march tonight' said the Man-at-Arms'

With the moon on the Menin gate.

They march when the midnight bids them go.

With they're rifles slung and their pipes aglow,

Along the roads, the roads they know,

The roads to the Menin gate.



'What are they singing, Man-at-Arms,

As they march to the Menin gate?

'The Marching songs', said the Man-at-Arms,

That let them laugh at fate.

No more will  the night be cold for them,

For the last tattoo has rolled for them, And their souls will sing as old for them, As they march to the Menin gate.

~ Anon.   
" There is no present like the time "

Lindancer

Jackie, Thanks for posting that lovely poem.

Click for Riverhead, NY Forecast

Marilyne

Jackie - That's a great World War I poem.  I hadn't seen it either.  Interesting to learn about The Menin Gate Memorial, in Belgium. 

MarsGal

This morning, during my cruise through Project Gutenberg, I snapped up this volume of reverential poems called Poems from the Inner Life by Lizzie Doten, a poet unknown to me(as many are)  http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56575  I thought of our recently missing members and relatives of members as well as others of us who are dealing with health problems.

Marilyne

MarsGal - I tried to download the Lizzie Doten poetry, but unfortunately my computer would not cooperate.  Not to worry however, since I Googled her name, and found lots of interesting sites about her and her poems.  I'm thinking of ordering an Amazon soft cover book of her poetry, for $9.95.  I have a bunch of things to order, so might as well add that to the growing list! ::)

Vanilla-Jackie

I should have posted this Valentines day...14 February...

Best Friends...
by Ron Carnell...

One hand in mine, my hand in thine,
We walk through life's stark shadow,
Two as one and one combine,
To fight the night's dark battle.

My strength to thee, and thine to mine,
Our fervor never fallow,
Two friends are one by co-design
To face our common morrow.

I pledge my trust, thy trust is mine,
Through life's deep joy and sorrow,
One for all and all align
And this our common motto.

Best friend of mine, and mine to thine,
No greater love to follow,
Two as one and one define
A friendship to the marrow...
" There is no present like the time "

Ferocious

I don't know if this has been posted before, but I heard it on the radio this morning.......

Under Milk Wood ~ Dylan Thomas Read by Richard Burton

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdfqcSN-I0M