ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?

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/ \Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღ♫♥
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║║╚╚╚╚╝ O

For years, I would go many a mile for a great live performance...These days I bring them to the comfort of home...I never dreamed I would have the honour to experience them again...and, many for the first time...It is almost New Years Day,and, I am just very thankful for the wonderful folks and great talent I have met here.


....♥¸¸.·´¯.`·¸.¸ ஐﻬ ♥ ஐﻬ ♥ ஐﻬ ¸¸.·´¯.`·¸.¸ ♥....
My gift of great live performances to each of you who pass this way..




....♥¸¸.·´¯.`·¸.¸ ஐﻬ ♥ ஐﻬ ♥ ஐﻬ ¸¸.·´¯.`·¸.¸ ♥

Split Rail Fence

Can you see that forgotten field -
the one over-grown with wild flowers
The field that used to yield
crops bathed by afternoon showers.

A patch-work quilt of gold and green
Furrows so straight and so true
An honest man's optimistic dream,
where fields of life once grew.

Now, cast your eyes to the right,
there, where the Oak stands tall.
Shading that field with it's height,
turning fire-red in the fading Fall.

Do you see it; overgrown in vines,
a lingering legacy, a man's desire,
to border his world, forming lines
around his fields where he did tire.

That far fence, made of cedar-rail,
split by calloused human hands,
zig-zagging through a damp dale,
sectioning off his living lands.

Do you suppose he often tarried,
leaning against that work of art.
Resting from a life so full, so harried,
wiping his brow, calming his heart.

Tipping back his sweat-stained hat,
to enjoy a cool, refreshing swig.
Occassionally swiping at a gnat,
chewing on a weeping willow twig.

Reflecting on his choice of career,
decisions made, and paths taken.
Thinking, I couldn't be any freer,
but why was I so sadly forsaken.

You see, this was his last year,
working these fields of stone.
From his dimming eyes, a tear,
wondering why he was left alone.

Just as his fence divided his land,
so the bond between man and wife.
On the hall table, a wedding band,
removed, leaving that hole in his life.

Not enough rain, too much toil;
not enough love, too little reward;
not enough sustinence, too little soil;
a life lived that was just too hard.

That fence, you see, was a sign.
Lives cannot be duly divided,
love cannot be yours or mine;
love cannot be one-sided.

Cj June, 2009

Paths winding to the sea,
waves lapping at our toes.
Sheltering in the Palm's lee,
washing away all life's woes.
Cj 12 June, 09
I truly hope your Monday isn't manic.
I also hope that there is no panic,
and that you can explore the tantric
side of life - the part that isn't plastic -
the part within you that is fantastic...Cj
What a special comment for me..I dislike plastic..something I would never want to be...this comment expresses very much what I was seeking to express in "Girls of the Globe"....

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