I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds' commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flame a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapors drew
A sudden elemental sword.

The sun at bay with splendid thrusts still keeps the sullen fold;
And momently at distance sets, as a cupola of gold,
The thatched roof of a cot a-glance;
Or on the blurred horizon joins his battle with the haze;
Or pools the blooming fields about with inter-isolate blaze,
Great moveless meres of radiance.

Then mark you how there hangs athwart the firmament's swept track,
Yonder a mighty crocodile with vast irradiant back,
A triple row of pointed teeth?
Under its burnished belly slips a ray of eventide,
The flickerings of a hundred glowing clouds in tenebrous side
With scales of golden mail ensheathe.

Then mounts a palace, then the air vibrates--the vision flees.
Confounded to its base, the fearful cloudy edifice
Ruins immense in mounded wrack;
Afar the fragments strew the sky, and each envermeiled cone
Hangeth, peak downward, overhead, like mountains overthrown
When the earthquake heaves its hugy back.

These vapors, with their leaden, golden, iron, bronzèd glows,
Where the hurricane, the waterspout, thunder, and hell repose,
Muttering hoarse dreams of destined harms,--
'Tis God who hangs their multitude amid the skiey deep,
As a warrior that suspendeth from the roof-tree of his keep
His dreadful and resounding arms!

All vanishes! The Sun, from topmost heaven precipitated,
Like a globe of iron which is tossed back fiery red
Into the furnace stirred to fume,
Shocking the cloudy surges, plashed from its impetuous ire,
Even to the zenith spattereth in a flecking scud of fire
The vaporous and inflamèd spaume.

O contemplate the heavens! Whenas the vein-drawn day dies pale,
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil?
With love that has not speech for need!
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite:
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night
Fantasy them starre brede.

Death a wassailing shadow
The cosmic kindler
That announces itself
Like a slipped coyote
Out of the black eye of day
Spanning the vast vividness
The tenebrous surreptitious
Abode of God, agape
The lurid womb of chaos
Corrupting whilst demons
Manifest under the new moon
The lustre of their wiles
The illusory horological
Machine of imagination
Conjuring the temporality of eternity
Delighting lamentably upon
The smitten truth of truths.


ELEETE J MUIR.

In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
  “Whose heart-strings are a lute;”
None sing so wildly well
As the angel Israfel,
And the giddy Stars (so legends tell),
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
  Of his voice, all mute.

Tottering above
  In her highest noon,
  The enamoured Moon
Blushes with love,
  While, to listen, the red levin
  (With the rapid Pleiads, even,
  Which were seven),
  Pauses in Heaven.

And they say (the starry choir
  And the other listening things)
That Israfeli’s fire
Is owing to that lyre
  By which he sits and sings—
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.

But the skies that angel trod,
  Where deep thoughts are a duty—
Where Love’s a grow-up God—
  Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
  Which we worship in a star.

Therefore, thou art not wrong,
  Israfeli, who despisest
An unimpassioned song;
To thee the laurels belong,
  Best bard, because the wisest!
Merrily live and long!

The ecstasies above
  With thy burning measures suit—
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
  With the fervor of thy lute—
  Well may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
  Is a world of sweets and sours;
  Our flowers are merely—flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
  Is the sunshine of ours.

If I could dwell
Where Israfel
  Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
  A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
  From my lyre within the sky.

She stunned me when I first saw her looks
Never seen like her even in books

An angel who dropped from the sky
To say to me "Sam! Hi!"

She instantly got my full attention
And I at once shown no pretention

She lives now in the corridors of my mind
You won't find a lady so gentle and kind

Now I miss her as I miss the air when I stop breathing
She lives in me, so God help me her seeing

Sam Burton (C)


Today is Friday, Oct. 10, the 289th day of 2014 with 82 to follow.

The moon is waxing. Morning stars are Jupiter, Uranus and Venus. Evening stars are Mars, Mercury, Neptune and Saturn.



Quotes for the day:



"Correction does much, but encouragement does more."



Johann Wolfgang von Goethe



"The first requisite for success is the ability to apply your physical and mental energies to one problem incessantly without growing weary."



Thomas A. Edison



POETRY

Israfel





Edgar Allan Poe



In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
"Whose heart-strings are a lute";
None sing so wildly well
As the angel Israfel,
And the giddy stars (so legends tell),
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
Of his voice, all mute.

Tottering above
In her highest noon,
The enamored moon
Blushes with love,
While, to listen, the red levin
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,
Which were seven,)
Pauses in Heaven.

And they say (the starry choir
And the other listening things)
That Israfeli's fire
Is owing to that lyre
By which he sits and sings -
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.

But the skies that angel trod,
Where deep thoughts are a duty -
Where Love's a grown-up God -
Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
Which we worship in a star.

Therefore thou art not wrong,
Israfeli, who despisest
An unimpassioned song;
To thee the laurels belong,
Best bard, because the wisest!
Merrily live, and long!

The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit -
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervor of thy lute -
Well may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely - flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.

If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
From my lyre within the sky.



BEAUTY AND HEALTH TIP

Strengthen your nails



Before you go to bed every night, use a nail-strengthening cream on your nails (and under, if they're long). This also keeps them hydrated, which is essential for healthy nails.



Trivia

Where did the name “Revlon: come from?



Nail polish distributors Charles Revson and his brother Joseph, along with nail polish supplier Charles Lachman, who contributed the "L" in the Revlon name, gave birth to the Revlon cosmetics company in 1932. Starting with just one nail product a nail enamel unlike any before it the three men pooled their paltry resources and developed a unique manufacturing process. Using pigments instead of dyes, Revlon was able to offer to women rich-looking, opaque nail enamel in a wide variety of shades never before available. In only six years, the company became a multimillion dollar organization, launching one of the most recognized cosmetics names in the world.



How many atoms are there in the universe?



Astronomers believe that the universe contains one atom for every 88 gallons of space.



How do animals influence the weather?



Living creatures create tiny weather systems called microclimates in their nests and burrows. For instance, bees fan their wings at the hive entrance during hot weather. This makes a cooling draft blow through the hive.

VOCABULARY



Splenetic

adjective



:


marked by bad temper, malevolence, or spite



Examples:



I know David was in a bad mood all day, but the splenetic tone of his reply to Brenda’s question was not necessary.



"If he were 10 or 15 years younger (or at least looked like he was), [Charlie] Sheen would be perfect as the splenetic, screed-spouting anti-hero of John Osborne’s 'Look Back in Anger.'" — From an article by Ben Brantley on the New York Times Arts Beat blog, May 26, 2011



Did you know?



In early Western physiology, a person's physical qualities and mental disposition were believed to be determined by the proportion of four ****** humors: blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile. The last of these was believed to be secreted by the spleen, causing feelings of disposition ranging from intense sadness (melancholia) to irascibility. This now-discredited association explains how the use of "splenetic" (deriving from the Late Latin "spleneticus" and the Latin "splen," meaning "spleen") came to mean both "bad-tempered" and "given to melancholy" as well as "of or relating to the spleen." In later years, the "melancholy" sense fell out of use, but the sense pertaining to ill humor or malevolence remains with us today.





Courtesy of Merriam-Webster, Inc.



JOKES



Female Comebacks



Man: Haven't I seen you someplace before?
Woman: Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore.

Man: Is this seat empty?
Woman: Yes, and this one will be if you sit down.

Man: Your place or mine?
Woman: Both. You go to yours, and I'll go to mine.

Man: So, what do you do for a living?
Woman: I'm a female impersonator.

Man: Hey baby, what's your sign?
Woman: Do not enter.

Man: How do you like your eggs in the morning?
Woman: Unfertilized.

Man: If I could see you naked, I'd die happy.
Woman: If I saw you naked, I'd probably die laughing.

Man: Your body is like a temple.
Woman: Sorry, there are no services today.

Man: I would go to the end of the world for you.
Woman: But would you stay there?





Seminars for MEN




(Prepared and Presented by Females)

1. Combatting stupidity

2. You too can do housework

3. ***: Learn when to keep your mouth shut

4. How to fill an ice tray

5. We do not want ****** underthings for Christmas: give us money

6. Understanding the female response to your coming in drunk at 4am

7. Wonderful laundry techniques (formerly titled, "Don't wash my silks")

8. Parenting: It doesn't end with conception

9. Get a life; learn to cook

10. How not to act like a ******* when you're obviously wrong

11. Spelling: Even you can get it right

12. Understanding your financial incompetence

13. You: The weaker ***

14. Reasons to give flowers

15. How to stay awake in public

16. Why it is unacceptable to relieve yourself anywhere but the bathroom

17. Garbage: Getting it to the curb

! 18. You can fall asleep without it if you really try

19. The morning dilemma if IT is awake: Take a shower

20. I'll wear it if I **** well please

21. How to put the toilet lid down (formerly titled "No, it's not a bidet")

22. "The weekend" and "sports" are not synonyms

23. Give me a break: Why we know your excuses are bull

24. How to go shopping with your mate and not get lost

25. The remote control: Overcoming your dependency

26. Romanticism: Ideas other than ***

27. Helpful postural hints for couch potatoes

28. Mothers-in-law: They are people too

29. Male bonding: Leaving your friends at home

30. You too can be a designated driver

31. Seeing the true you (formerly titled, "You don't look like Mel Gibson when naked")

32. Changing your underwear: It really works

33. The attainable goal: removing "****" from your! vocabulary

34. Fluffing the blankets after flatula! ting is not necessary

35. Techniques for calling home before you leave work





The Bacon Tree



There are two guys who have been lost in the desert for weeks, and they're at death's door. As they stumble on, hoping for salvation in the form of an oasis or something similar, they suddenly spy, through the heat haze, a tree off in the distance.

As they get closer, they can see that the tree is draped with rasher upon rasher of bacon. There's smoked bacon, crispy bacon, life-giving juicy nearly-raw bacon, all sorts. "Oh my, Pepe" says the first bloke. "It's a bacon tree!!! We're saved!!!" "You're right!" says Pepe.

So Pepe goes on ahead and runs up to the tree salivating at the prospect of food. But as he gets to within five feet of the tree, there's the sound of machine gun fire, and he is shot down in a hail of bullets. His friend quickly drops down on the sand, and calls across to the dying Pepe.

"Pepe! Pepe! What on earth happened?"...

With his dying breath Pepe calls out...

"Ugh, run, run!... it's not a Bacon Tre! e...

Scroll Down...













...it's a Ham Bush"





HAVE A SUPER NICE FRIDAY and a GORGEOUS WEEKEND!

a kiss exchanged
that wishes to stay

the love that grips
fears to bid farewell

the heart hesitates
seeking words to say

the dream after the awakening
that refuses to fade away

The sound of a bell
as it leaves the bell

A drop of water
still clinging to the tap

The cry of a hawk
before it echoes through trees

A composer's wet ink
an eighth note in motion

My sigh in the morning
just before it heaves from my chest

In dreams of the twilight rain
I've dreamt the orbs the angels ringed
Around the awakening of life and pain
Which hath me broken-winged.

The sound of the clashing swords
Echo in the orison I've prayed
With the chiding of silent words
Telling back at the Past I made.

Those holy angels- angels' beauty,
When all of the heaven
Melody luted a song with the fruity
Stars sparkling the Levin

To which cause the sun to kiss the moon
With angels and daemons caressing,
As to where saying 'Amen' will real soon
Hath the Omens' shadows compressing...

The window is open
and so is that arcane door.
This heart is always open;
So come back again

I miss your happiness
and those rainy days
More than that
I miss your happy smile
and sweet voice.

I miss chilly moments
with morning coffee,
I miss walking with you
and talking to you for hours
More than that
I miss your eyes
and wet shy lips.

I miss your lank hair
and your smooth cheeks
I miss your silent touches
on my wishful face.
Do you miss me anymore?
I do miss you, my dear!

You're the levin to me
on cloudy nights,
I love you, darling
and I always have;
I'm still alive to get your love
Sweetie, come back again!

Rise and raise
both head and heart
name and nation
to the cause.

Futility felt
through bone and bruise
by man against Machine
Our arduous war.

Struggle and strive
for life and liberty
from dark and death
by giving your hand.

Now is the time to fight.
Roar through like boisterous levin
with steady swords anchored souls
Stand tall and shake the heavens.

A young and beautiful, but wretched soul,
Dreamt in an enchanted world of her own,
With enraptured stallions and unicorns,
Far away from the brutal world so widely known,
But little did she know, the doom of her fantasy land is close.

Long was the string of her heartfelt desires,
She wanted to gaze at the infinite stars,
And eagerly waited to whoosh to Mars,
Away from negativities and deep scars,
But little did she know, she'd always be on the radar.

Incessant lookouts for an escape,
Made her wearied, sick and frail,
It was then that the realisation kicked her brain,
For what is she suffering so much pain?
For a world that is best at growing only wolf's bane?

After a month of Sundays, time finally chipped in,
When she could take the world out for a spin,
To vanquish the conventionality like a fiery levin,
Now was the time to declare that she won't take it on the chin,
And little did the world know of its approaching ruin.

Prepared to confront the imposed tyranny one-on-one,
She took it by surprise like a curve ball,
Then the insurgence began bold and tall,
"Why are women objectified as puppet dolls?
Why do taboos exist only for womenfolk?"

Appalled by her fearless defiance,
The world warned her against such resistance,
And swore to banish her existence,
The girl merely snorted and said "to hell with your dominance",
And little did the world know, it'd be soon thrown into a vortex.

Shining from within like a blaze of sunlight,
Powered up by vexation from her plight,
She broke the ancient shields of the dark skies,
And swallowed the ossified world with plumes of her divine light,
Yet little did she know, she has pioneered a new set of star lights.

©Sri.Mun

What artist chiseled you?

What stone birthed you?

What dream gave you

soul, and who dreamt you?



What levin cracked you?

What rivers eroded you?

What iron painted you

red, and who dreamt you?



What winters withheld you?

What springs undressed you?

What summers promised you

fall, and who dreamt you?



What pain makes you?

What time keeps you?

What things did you

dream, and who dreamt you?

Most nights the train wails through the countryside,
a lidless cyclops banshee, sightless levin searchlight, and so sonorous the bridge's paint curdles
Grain streams out of cars and clatters among the tracks
Might your midnight snack have jolted free your soul and ferried you through the moonlight?

Morning announces a sunless sky, for you
eyes tenderly shrouded in a heather gauze
She whispers foul incantations across sludge and waterless brambles
- a lullaby to rustle and carry feathers from flightless wings,
to entangle them in the earth's course, tawny hair,
adorned and glittering with glass slivers and hollow bones

Many wonder with skepticism, what it’s like in heaven?
A place that manifest not as much as a spec of corrupting levin…

A location up high, that is pure in all its way’s.
And with the meting out of righteous justice, there will be to his satisfaction, not any delay’s…

The abode of love is how I would start my very limited explanation.
Where it’s occupancy has peace as its main objective, and willing obligation.

Unlike at this time, the earths directors and it’s inhabitants, which experience unrest everyday.
In heaven, kindness personified is it’s ruler, and joy is it’s continuous replay.

Is it really possible that a dwelling such as this does exist?
Hard to imagine from the perspective of this troubled world, but let’s take a closer look using the Holy Bible as our credible checklist.

He that reins there has from the ultimate authority been given top executive function above all others.
However, everyone within his administration are the truest of brothers.
Matthew 28:18
Revelation 22:9

His only aim is to finish for mankind his fathers loving will.
In his name all turbulence from sin he will end for those that choose so, what a unimaginable thrill!
John 4:34
Luke 1:76,77

The end result will bring to fruition the long awaited prayer for an earthly society that resembles every heaven high standard.
And forevermore will no question as to heavens existence, be left unanswered.
Mathew 6:10
Revelation 21:4


J.I.F.
7/7/22


Matthew 28:18
18 Jesus approached and spoke to them, saying: “All authority has been given me in heaven and on the earth.

Revelation 22:9
9 But he tells me: “Be careful! Do not do that! I am only a fellow slave of you and of your brothers the prophets and of those observing the words of this scroll. Worship God.”

John 4:34
4 Jesus said to them: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.

Luke 1:76,77
76 But as for you, young child, you will be called a prophet of the Most High, for you will go ahead of Jehovah to prepare his ways, 77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people by forgiveness of their sins,

Matthew 6:10
10 Let your Kingdom come. Let your will take place, as in heaven, also on earth.

Revelation 21:4
4 And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes, and death will be no more, neither will mourning nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.

In the village I lived in, when
I resided in Provence, the local
Boulanger requested my Iron
skills to make a controversial
weather vane for his bakery.

After some thought, I fabricated
a Coq that rotated atop three of
the compass points and a loaf
which represented East or Yeast.

Lever is the French verb to rise,
Levin is yeast ( A bread riser ).
And the Coq, who is up before
anyone, was, as I had assumed,
the perfect metaphoric riddle.

But Pascal, Le Boulanger was not
impressed, as I had neglected to
consider, that the French don't
speak English and hence, the Yeast
polarity pun was lost on everyone.

  " It was my first French lesson "

The doctor could do
nothing for me, that's
it he said, happens to
us all eventually, it is
simply ageing, sorry,
if the ****** didn't
work, the games up.

Then I met Sheila, a
baker.
In the presence of her
****** smile, I felt as
though the doctor was
wrong, all I needed was
a wholemeal levin.