~Tuesday Toons~

A Breathtaking Piano Piece

Jervy Hou

 

Although I am not too fond of Jervys naming choice for this song, it is a beautiful melody that I have taken up in piano class.  Please enjoy :)

Moustache, Like A Sir

I made this out of Crayola Twistables! Just so you know, because apparently it is hard to tell, that is a septum piercing. Not an oddly constructed moustache. :)

It sits as a comrade, a furry, lippy friend,

That you can twist, style, twirl, whorl, and bend,

You are the captain, and it your first mate,

With it you have a bond to which no other bodily hair—can relate,

You might prefer the Belvedere, or perhaps the Dali,

You may sport yours like Frank Zappa and grow a goatee,

It can be a handlebar, or you can let it droop,

One end can be a basketball, the other end a hoop,

You can look like Einstein and look like Ringo too,

You could grow it very long until you need ‘stache shampoo,

It may be a pencil one, or a Fu Manchu,

A moustache is a moustache, and any one will do,

Some look pretty menacing, some look kind of cute,

Some make you look professional, some just like a brute,

You can wear it with a beard, goatee, or mutton chops,

It looks right on cowboys, Hitler, and even cops,

This is a little ode about a little droop,

A single curve of hair that can sop up all the soup,

Some are rather sparse; some look worth a lot of cash,

But never forget the power and coolness of the ‘stache

Action

Tried something new with this edit, I really quite enjoy it! It really adds `motion` into the photo...let me know what you think!

~Tuesday Toons~

Every Tuesday, I will post one of my favourite songs for everyone to watch.  This is my all time favourite; the music video is amazing :)


Rich Aucoin 

The Goat and I

The Goat And I

Each sunny day upon my way
A goat I pass;
He has a beard of silver grey,
A bell of brass.
And all the while I am in sight
He seems to muse,
And stares at me with all his might
And chews and chews.

Upon the hill so thymy sweet
With joy of Spring,
He hails me with a tiny bleat
Of welcoming.
Though half the globe is drenched with blood
And cities flare,
Contentedly he chews the cud
And does not care.

Oh gentle friend, I know not what
Your age may be,
But of my years I'd give the lot
Yet left to me,
To chew a thistle and not choke,
But bright of eye
Gaze at the old world-weary bloke
Who hobbles by.

Alas! though bards make verse sublime,
And lines to quote,
It takes a fool like me to rhyme
About a goat.

Robert William Service

 

 

I love this picture because it almost looks like a drawn image.  These goats were really friendly and wagged their little goat tails and hopped around when they saw me!  Absolutely adorable <3

Seconds

Seconds

Hours are long

When you wait, they prolong

Minutes are both

Come short or in growth

But seconds are here

Fast as they come, they flee, disappear 

In a split second, it could mean life or death

  From the moment you're born

 To your last strangled breath

Seconds could be the choice between first or last

Hours are long,

Minutes are both

Seconds are here, seconds are fast

Now the choice is for you, 

Are you first or are you last?

Taylor Borth
            *All of my photos are original and are copywrited.  You may use them under my permisson :)*

Waiting

A View From The Park Bench

Upon this old familiar bench
From which I've spent a time or two,
Just gazing at the sky above
And watching chestnut trees,
Which change throughout the seasons
Now their copper leaves do fall,
Which gather on this stony path
And tossed upon the breeze.

For scattered far across the field
And through the air with random flee,
From every bough it seems to pluck
Until each one is bare,
Now soon the winter shall be here
With icy chills the frosts and snow,
When I'll not stop but carry on
And find no comfort there.

Upon this bench so old and worn
That's scrawled and etched on every slat,
And smeared with food from yesterday
Yet still to me so kind,
For here within my solitude
Away from all the toil and spite,
I'll take my time to look around
While others seem so blind.

Within this park the children play
Upon the swings the slide and frame,
And run around upon the grass
Just like I used to do,
But now so many years have passed
And older but no wiser I,
And wish I had my youth again
Reliving days I knew.

Upon this bench I sit and wait
And as the people pass me by,
Some of them do speak to me
Some look the other way,
Yet here the grass shall always grow
Beneath my tired and aching feet,
A friendly place I call my own
Where often I do stay.

I long for daffodils of spring
To watch them all come into flower,
When blossom blooms upon the bough
Such beauty there to see,
Then listen to the birds that sing
As if for me their sweet refrains,
And I alone shall hear them all
Each golden melody.

Upon this bench on which I rest
I think how many things have changed,
Yet here it almost seems the same
As times of long ago,
St. Mary's there still proudly stands
And in the morning sun does shine,
As ages passed it's witnessed all
And seen the village grow.

Now as I make my way back home
And walk along this stony path,
Adorned by scattered copper leaves
That through the autumn fell,
I know I shall return again
To lose myself within the view,
And watch the seasons changing
From the bench where I shall dwell.

ANDREW BLAKEMORE

*All of my photos are original and copyright. You may use them under my permission with full credit*

 

I needed to add this song to this post for it seemed accurate. It is called `Waiting` by Nora Jones :)

Duck at the Beach

Ducks Ducks are lucky Don't you think? When they want to Take a drink, All they do is Duck their bill. (Doesn't matter If they spill.) When they want to Take a swim, All they do is Dive right in; And they never Seem to sink. Ducks are lucky, Don't you think? Mary Ann Hoberman

*All of my photos are original and are copywrited.  You may use them under my permisson :)*

The Sun

*All of my photos are original and are copywrited.  You may use them under my permisson :)*

 

Moss

By Bruce Guernsey

How must it be

to be moss,

that slipcover of rocks?—

imagine,

greening in the dark,

longing for north,

the silence

of birds gone south.

How does moss do it,

all day

in a dank place

and never a cough?—

a wet dust

where light fails,

where the chisel

cut the name.



*All of my photos are original and are copywrited.  You may use them under my permisson :)*

Me!

HEY!

 thanks to all of my blogger friends

to stay in tune I recommend

Now let me tell you about myself
I love photography, poetry and drawing too,

But all of that I am sure you knew

My hobbies are alike you see,
So stick around, and you will see!

Wheat Sunset

Just beyond the sunset
Someone waits for me
Just beyond the sunset
Lies my destiny
Where the purple mountains
Lie in deep tranquillity
There I’ll find the treasure
Of love eternally

Just beyond the sunset
Waits someone so fair
Just beyond the sunset
All alone they wait there
Their hair is golden
The colour of the sand
Their eyes sparkle in the night
Like diamonds in your hand

Just beyond the sunset
Lies a home for me
Where the world is peaceful
Like a paradise should be
Just beyond the sunset
Someday is where you’ll find me

Written - July or Aug 1966

David Harris

 

*All of my photos are original and are copywrited.  You may use them under my permisson :)*

iPhone 4s Macro Lens

A withered flower blooming again
breeze shook the flower
the sun is shining on flower
rain water to wash the dust-filled flower
abort storm petals
storm that renders the flower petals
polling beetle sucking painful

flower that bloom so bright today
beauty exudes an aura of coolness of the beholder
spread the fragrance that invites a bee to touch
although many other flowers around it
bees sucking the flower first
choose to suck and touch the flower
lately the flower
always bloom radiate beauty
a bee was not able to get away from the flower
a bee sucking the beautiful bloomington
always produce the honey taste good
really beautiful relationship between the flower and bee
both are very compatible and complement each other

meti Rahmawati

This is the inside of a big flower that I took, surprisingly with an iPhone 4s believe it or not!  It is truly amazing what technology can do.

*All of my photos are original and are copywrited.  You may use them under my permisson :)*

Nature and Invention

People and Places

ANNABEL LEE


It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea. 

Edgar Allan Poe
Boston, Massachusetts