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Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.-Edgar Allan Poe

Poetry is when emotion has found its thought and thought has found words--Robert Frost

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance--Carl Sandburg

I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry--John Cage

You will find poetry nowhere unless you bring some of it with you--Joseph Joubert

Poetry is what in a poem makes you laugh, cry, prickle, be silent, makes your toe nails twinkle, makes you want to do this or that or nothing, makes you know that you are alone in the unknown world, that your bliss and suffering is forever shared and forever all your own. ~Dylan Thomas

joybragi84

Fire, Fire Way Too Close But the Flower Pictures Are Beautiful

I have a whole bunch of cool pictures to post taken during the hiking excursion that Kellie and I took today, but first, I must tell you about having the s@*t scared out of us with the threat of being burned alive. We hiked up on West Livingstone creek toward Partee Springs and on up into the valley as far as the four wheeler trail goes. When we went into the forest, we knew that there was a smoke warning because there were distant fires on the other side of Highway 5, far, far away from where we were as far as we could tell.

Anyway, on our way back, we come around the corner where the bike trail and the four wheeler trail meet up, and, suddenly, a wall of flame is shooting up above us and over us to the right. The flames are on the ground and up in the top of the pine trees. You could literally not see through the flames. We started walking faster because the trail led away from the wall of flame. However, we noticed that there was smoke on the hill above where our car was parked and spot flames, like little baskets of fire, were dotted all over the hillside. I told Kellie I was going to run to the car to make sure it was okay, and I took off running without her. Of course, she is still gimpy from her foot surgery and wearing the metal brace. I ran for what seemed like a half mile worried about the flames that were on the hillside above our car. Had they burned through where our car was? Anyhow, I got to the car, and where it was, no fire had come through. Though some flaming leaves and other fire had obviously blown over the top of the car and set the woods afire past and above it. I jumped in the car and turned it around to go get Kellie, and there she was about 100 yards behind me. She had really scooted along for someone with a foot in a metal brace. We escaped unharmed. With maybe a little bit smoke inhalation, but, for a few moments, it was scary as hell. We did get some good flower pictures though before the fire scare. Here are some of the ones that I took. By the way, if you click on the pictures, they get larger, and you can zoom or move around in the picture.


I am a fan of purple flowers. I think these are some version of the Rose Verbena, but I am not sure. Here are more purple flowers below.


I have no idea what the previous one is.


Here is a cluster of verbena's in the white sand of the creek.


I do not know the name of this flower either. That is the end of the the purple flowers that I took. Here is a tiny white flower.



These pink and yellow flowers were so tiny and delicate that it was hard to get them with the wind blowing. As you can see, the wind curled the petals


I have no idea what this moss or fern is, but it sure is weird. I have another picture, but I think I will wait and post Kellie's. She has a great one of this fern or moss.



I am so glad that I got this Starfire, which I always knew as Indian Paintbrush. They are tough to find in such good shape with petals fully extended.



My dad probably would have called these bitterweed, but, if they are not in your hayfield, they can be awfully pretty.


Here is a view of Partee Spring. As you know, I grew up in Mountain View and ran around in the National Forest all of my life, but today was the first day I had ever seen Partee Spring. It's pretty cool. I may post another blog with Kellie's pictures later. See ya around.


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I find that I cannot exist without Poetry--without eternal poetry--half the day will not do--the whole of it--I began with a little, but habit has made me a Leviathan.-John Keats

We do not quite say that the new is more valuable because it fits in; but its fitting in is a test of its value.-T. S. Eliot

A man may praise and praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases.-George Gordon, Lord Byron

The great beauty of poetry is that it makes everything in every place interesting.-John Keats

Our faulty elder poets sacrificed the passion and passionate flow of poetry to the subtleties of intellect and to the stars of wit; the moderns to the glare and glitter of a perpetual, yet broken and heterogeneous imagery, or rather to an amphibious something, made up, half of image, and half of abstract meaning. The one sacrificed the heart to the head; the other both heart and head to point and drapery.-S. T. Coleridge

The purpose of rhythm, it has always seemed to me, is to prolong the moment of contemplation, the moment when we are both asleep and awake, which is the one moment of creation.-W. B. Yeats

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