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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

Musing about Flowers and Such


Anyway, if you've been keeping up with me on Facebook, you know that I have shared the pictures that Kellie posted on her feed and tagged me in with my friends on Facebook. We went hiking on David's Trail Saturday morning. It is a nice enough general sort of hike, but it was more or less like walking in the woods, which is something that I don't mind, but I like scenery. Maybe, I am a little spoiled by the natural beauty around Blanchard Springs, Gunner Pool, Barkshed, etc, but I want a bluff scene, some rock formations, the sun shining on a sparkling creek. A regular oak woods like the one here in my back yard and a dingy lake full of speeding bass boats is not my idea of scenery. I did get the awesome picture above of some Fern Moss. Take a look at that, why don't you?


Now, don't get to thinking that our walk was a total washout on the scenic beauty, but both Kellie and I were "zooming" in on the flowers that we encountered because there weren't many. The white flower above was in a small group of three or four. I don't remember seeing anymore of these. The purple flowers below, we saw in bunches--though not in the type of solid ground cover that we have seen in the past.


These purple flowers, the Rose Verbena, are ubiquitous in this part of Arkansas. No matter where you hike, you will see some. These were scattered along the bank of the lake right at the edge of the forest. They merely reminded me that it is time to go hiking on the Syllamo bike trail, which Kellie and I call the "Flower Trail." Every year about this time, at least two dozen species of flowers can be found blooming alongside that trail from wild irises to delphinium. It is a great time of taking pictures for us. Oh! And some wild and exotic butterflies can be found skipping through those flowers on a day that is warm enough for them.

The last picture that I have was taken at the Salem City Park today. Kellie had a memory pop up in Facebook showing our irises blooming six year ago on this day, April 3. This year, not even a stalk is shooting up. Besides the Bradford pears, the forsythia, and a few tiny white and purple weeds, we have no other blooms in our yard yet. None of jonquils or Easter lilies have even made an appearance, and I fear it is too late for them to do so. Anyhow, here is that picture that I took at the park today. Does anybody know what this is?


I suppose now that I will tell you where I am with writing. I have begun an "explanation" about the fictional aunt of Dewey Lynn Bugler, Mrs. Charlotte Perkins-Bugler. I am about halfway through with Dewey's rendition. I thought it might be short, but it turns out I was able to think of more "information" that could be divulged. I recently edited Uncle Boog and the Dogfight and made it available in the full here in the blog. It is Digital Dropbox link to a Word document and a PDF. Let me know if it isn't working.

Oh, yeah! I say that I edited UBatD, but then I was reading it the other day, and there is an extra word in the last sentence of the second paragraph that makes no sense. Good editing, huh?

Anyway, I haven't heard from Austin Macauley publishers about my book Atheists and Empty Spaces in more than a month. I am getting a little aggravated with them. They'd better do a bang up job on selling the book because their collaboration in editing has been a lot less than desired.

With my book still out there, I am not writing any poetry.

I am going to offer exactly the same as what Dewey Lynne offers when he is writing. If you want to hear about something or read something that I can dream up or imagine, you just let me know by contacting me at the Contact button, wherever that is on the page.

See you 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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