Winged, Poetry & Art Photo's

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Saturday, August 9, 2008

Who should die and who should live?

I think a lot about our men arguing over who should die and who should live, I think about how they worry about the sky dropping fire and brimstone on them and all they love, I think about how they end up sore and bleeding standing on corners, I always give them a nod, a word or two, and they look... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 7:42 AM | add or view comments (5) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

In love, it is almost always the woman who embraces the man's territory...

In love, it is almost always the woman who embraces the man's territory... not vice versa, Story of Hippolyta, an Amazon Moon Maiden and Theseus, her King, she knew only a life of self-sufficiency and independence, and he knew none of these, but still he swept her out of her world into his, although... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:26 AM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Friday, August 1, 2008

Madonna and Baby Jesus...the supreme subject...

Some call her Mary, others call Madonna, or the mother of Jesus, she was frail, gentle and absolute, little Jesus was her first work of art, the toddler probably wondered why some crawled and became twisted like broken branches when in his presence, he smiled at them and their limbs grew strong, he... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 6:05 AM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

In the number ONE, we find despair, frustration and loss of hope...

When alone we seem more willing to accept the negative than the positive, We worry about our future and suffer disillusionment of our past We scoff at the idea that we can elect happiness, in fact, we may be the only living creature with sufficient will and intelligence to choose happiness. Some... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 3:40 PM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Love Poem by William Blake

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posted by Winged at 9:24 AM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Immortal Love...

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posted by Winged at 5:39 AM | add or view comments (4) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Paradise Found...

It was John Milton who wrote Paradise Lost, the epic of Adam and Eve, he was most probably counseled by angels, I'm thinking of just a few, now there is the angel Raphael, who escorted Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden, and Israfel is known as the angel of resurrection and song, wrote Edgar... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 3:36 PM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, July 26, 2008

The Year A'head...A flower unblown: A Book unread:

A Tree with fruit unharvested: A Path untrod: A House whose rooms Lack yet the heart's divine perfumes: A landscape whose wide border lies in silent shade "neath silent skies: A wondrous Fountain yet unsealed: A casket with its gifts concealed - - This is the Year that for you waits Beyond... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 3:02 PM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Each a Part of All...There's a part o' the sun in an apple...

There's part o' the moon in a rose; there's a part o' the flaming Pleiades In every leaf that grows. Out of the vast comes nearness; For the God whose love we sing Sends a little of His heaven To every living thing. by Augustus Wright Bamberger *This poem was found in an anthology of the The Best... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 6:17 AM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Waking from sleep, Inside the veins there are navies setting forth...

Tiny explosions at the water lines, And seagulls weaving in the wind of the salty blood. It is morning. The country has slept the whole winter. Window seats were covered with fur skins, the yard was full Of stiff dogs, and hands that clumsily held heavy books. Now we wake, and rise from bed, and eat... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 4:11 PM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

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About this Blog

The Passage of time. Down here on the third rock from the Sun, self-expression is our genius and we must not be talked out of it.I enjoy using pictures and writing to speak for me. I especially enjoy letting others revisit their own lives when reading mine and looking at my photo's.

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