Song of the Day:
Quote of the Day:
Poem of the Day: Time and Eternity VII
-Emily Dickinson
Photo of the Day:
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Friday, March 8, 2013
Song/Quote/Poem/Picture of the Day 3/8/2013
Song of the Day:
Quote of the Day:
Poem of the Day: March
Sky a shook poncho.
Roof wrung. Mind a luna moth
Caught in a banjo.
This weather’s witty
Peek-a-boo. A study in
Insincerity.
Blues! Blooms! The yodel
Of the chimney in night wind.
That flat daffodil.
With absurd hauteur
New tulips dab their shadows
In water-mutter.
Boys are such oxen.
Girls! — sepal-shudder, shadow-
Waver. Equinox.
Plums on the Quad did
Blossom all at once, taking
Down the power grid.
-Richard Kenny
Picture of the Day:
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Song/Quote/Poem of the Day 3/7/2013
Song of the Day:
Quote of the Day:
Poem of the Day: The Arrow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Song/Quote/Poem of the Day 3/6/2013
Song of the Day
Quote of the Day
Poem of the Day : On 52nd Street
On 52nd Street
Down sat Bud, raised his hands,
the Deuces silenced, the lights
lowered, and breath gathered
for the coming storm. Then nothing,
not a single note. Outside starlight
from heaven fell unseen, a quarter-
moon, promised, was no show,
ditto the rain. Late August of '50,
NYC, the long summer of abundance
and our new war. In the mirror behind
the bar, the spirits—imitating you—
stared at themselves. At the bar
the tenor player up from Philly, shut
his eyes and whispered to no one,
"Same thing last night." Everyone
been coming all week long
to hear this. The big brown bass
sighed and slumped against
the piano, the cymbals held
their dry cheeks and stopped
chicking and chucking. You went
back to drinking and ignored
the unignorable. When the door
swung open it was Pettiford
in work clothes, midnight suit,
starched shirt, narrow black tie,
spit shined shoes, as ready
as he'd ever be. Eyebrows
raised, the Irish bartender
shook his head, so Pettiford eased
himself down at an empty table,
closed up his Herald Tribune,
and shook his head. Did the TV
come on, did the jukebox bring us
Dinah Washington, did the stars
keep their appointments, did the moon
show, quartered or full, sprinkling
its soft light down? The night's
still there, just where it was, just
where it'll always be without
its music. You're still there too
holding your breath. Bud walked out.
-Philip Levine
Down sat Bud, raised his hands, the Deuces silenced, the lights lowered, and breath gathered for the coming storm. Then nothing, not a single note. Outside starlight from heaven fell unseen, a quarter- moon, promised, was no show, ditto the rain. Late August of '50, NYC, the long summer of abundance and our new war. In the mirror behind the bar, the spirits—imitating you— stared at themselves. At the bar the tenor player up from Philly, shut his eyes and whispered to no one, "Same thing last night." Everyone been coming all week long to hear this. The big brown bass sighed and slumped against the piano, the cymbals held their dry cheeks and stopped chicking and chucking. You went back to drinking and ignored the unignorable. When the door swung open it was Pettiford in work clothes, midnight suit, starched shirt, narrow black tie, spit shined shoes, as ready as he'd ever be. Eyebrows raised, the Irish bartender shook his head, so Pettiford eased himself down at an empty table, closed up his Herald Tribune, and shook his head. Did the TV come on, did the jukebox bring us Dinah Washington, did the stars keep their appointments, did the moon show, quartered or full, sprinkling its soft light down? The night's still there, just where it was, just where it'll always be without its music. You're still there too holding your breath. Bud walked out.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16504#sthash.jBv8neZQ.dpuf
Down sat Bud, raised his hands, the Deuces silenced, the lights lowered, and breath gathered for the coming storm. Then nothing, not a single note. Outside starlight from heaven fell unseen, a quarter- moon, promised, was no show, ditto the rain. Late August of '50, NYC, the long summer of abundance and our new war. In the mirror behind the bar, the spirits—imitating you— stared at themselves. At the bar the tenor player up from Philly, shut his eyes and whispered to no one, "Same thing last night." Everyone been coming all week long to hear this. The big brown bass sighed and slumped against the piano, the cymbals held their dry cheeks and stopped chicking and chucking. You went back to drinking and ignored the unignorable. When the door swung open it was Pettiford in work clothes, midnight suit, starched shirt, narrow black tie, spit shined shoes, as ready as he'd ever be. Eyebrows raised, the Irish bartender shook his head, so Pettiford eased himself down at an empty table, closed up his Herald Tribune, and shook his head. Did the TV come on, did the jukebox bring us Dinah Washington, did the stars keep their appointments, did the moon show, quartered or full, sprinkling its soft light down? The night's still there, just where it was, just where it'll always be without its music. You're still there too holding your breath. Bud walked out.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16504#sthash.jBv8neZQ.dpuf
Monday, March 4, 2013
Song/Quote/Poem of the Day 3/5/2013
Song of the Day
Quote of the Day
Poem of the Day
The world has held great Heroes,
As history-books have showed;
But never a name to go down to fame
Compared with that of Toad
The clever men at Oxford
Know all that there is to be knowed.
But they none of them knew one half as much
As intelligent Mr Toad!
The animals sat in the Ark and cried,
Their tears in torrents flowed.
Who was it said, “There’s land ahead?”
Encouraging Mr Toad!
The Army all saluted
As they marched along the road.
Was it the King? Or Kitchener?
No. It was Mr Toad!
The Queen and her Ladies-in-waiting
Sat at the window and sewed.
She cried, “Look! who’s that handsome man?”
They answered, “Mr Toad.”
-Kenneth Grahame
Song/Poem/Quote of the Day
I refuse to put my life on hold until he realizes this. Maybe one day he will and that will be a great day, until then I have lots of living to do.
Quote's have the ability to encourage and uplift. Here is the quote of the day:
Here is the poem of the day, which ironically (ok not really I planned it that way) goes with the song of the day.
We'll Go No More A-Roving
So, we’ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
-Lord Byron
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Coffee Shop Hopping
More
plans have been made for my visit to Minnesota in the Spring/Summer. I got off
of Tango with my older sister Beth a little bit ago, and mad plans have been
set percolating. One idea we discussed: Having wine nights with my Grandma.
However, because my Grandma’s ticker is not all that great and she is not supposed
to have wine, we are going to buy Welches grape juice for her, so that she can
sit out with my sister and me and “drink” with us.
The main
idea that we discussed though was Coffee Shop hopping. Two of my favorite
things in the world: Coffee and places off the beaten path; where you can meet
any number of characters. Along with this theme, we are going to start up a summer
reading list, consisting of mostly of the classic, with a weird quirky book
thrown in for good measure.
I feel
like there has to be guidelines to this thing. Like: This is a whole day ordeal
and we are going to visit many coffee shops. Two crazy blonde chicks hyped up
on coffee, set loose in the Twin Cities! Yikes! Another rule: We have to wear a
funny hat while reading. Why? Just because. If you had to ask it defeats the
purpose.
The Renaissance
Festival in August! This is a tradition in my family, they go every
year. We get up early in the morning and drive up to Shakopee, where we have a
big breakfast, like pancakes, bacon, eggs, and of course coffee flows freely.
Then we head on over to the festival. The last year that I went (which was 6
years ago) there was a big group of us.
My sister and I had bought wooden swords. We ran around thinking we were badass, pretending fighting, and general horsing around. At one point we even had a small crown around us watching, cheering us on. Well I got too big for my britches. A large burly blacksmith passed by us and I called out asking him if he wanted to fight, trying to be funny. I didn’t expect him to take up the challenge but he did. He turned around and said “Sure,” showing me a large metal axe. My sister and I slunk off after that. It was all in good fun though.
It is memories like those, and all the fun things we have planned that make me excited to return to Minnesota for the summer. If you can’t tell I am greatly looking forward to it!Maybe I will buy a pair of buckrum cloaks to go along with the occasion?
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