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6:18 pm
Moderators
Tue 22-Sep-09
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by Thomas Hood
No sun"no moon!
No morn"no noon!
No dawn"no dusk"no proper time of day"
No sky"no earthly view"
No distance looking blue"
No road"no street"
No "t'other side the way""
No end to any Row"
No indications where the Crescents go"
No top to any steeple"
No recognitions of familiar people"
No courtesies for showing 'em"
No knowing 'em!
No mail"no post"
No news from any foreign coast"
No park"no ring"no afternoon gentility"
No company"no nobility"
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member"
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!
I just thought I'd cheer you all up! 
I'll try that again!
6:51 pm
Supreme Being
New members
Mon 7-Jun-10
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I think you've had one too many¦get back on your broomstick¦.
Who lives long sees much : The diary of my life in Bulgaria
7:13 pm
Supreme Being
Mon 21-Sep-09
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Cheery poem that!
No mention of roaring log fires or crumpets toasting.
No mention of the joy of snuggling under eiderdowns
No mention of the way that the frost rims the skeletal remains
transforming the ordinary into a thing of beauty
No mention of fireworks sparkling
No mention of rasberry vodka warming
No mention of the satisfying taste of hot chocolate
that warms the heart and the hands
No mention of the smells of Christmas cakes baking
or the wafts of mincemeat preparation
No mention of crisp Novmember walks
when your breath hangs in the air
The joys maybe fleeting
And wrapped in fog
But crystal clear moments
ring out in November
Sorry couldn't resist 
7:17 pm
Moderators
Tue 22-Sep-09
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Touché Joanna. I think the poet might have been a sufferer of SAD.
I'll try that again!
7:20 pm
Supreme Being
Thu 24-Sep-09
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Very cheery TA
They have put shawls of fog around them, see!
What if the air should grow so dimly white
That we would lose our way along the paths
Made new by walls of moving mist receding
The more we follow. . . . What a silver night!
That was our bench the time you said to me
The long new poem ” but how different now,
How eerie with the curtain of the fog
Making it strange to all the friendly trees!"
- Sara Teasdale, A November Night
Old teachers never die, they just lose their class
7:23 pm
Supreme Being
Mon 21-Sep-09
Offline
I thinks so. I also think the misery brings out the worst in me and I guess I should take note of a proverb from the bible
Proverbs 25:20
Like one who takes away a garment on a cold day,
or like vinegar poured on a wound,
is one who sings songs to a heavy heart.
Maybe I should be doing more 
and less being cheery 
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