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Latest Activity: Dec 14, 2014
Started by Amy L. Waddle. Last reply by Pam Thornton Jan 5, 2013.
The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
History has revealed that much of the Midwest and south east U.S. was originally settled by a large number of Scots and Irish (Gaels). I recently received a "Created By Ceiteach" stamp for the back of cards. "Ceiteach" is Keith in Gaelic. This is just another way for me to have fun.
Playing Beneath the Falls
by Keith M. Waugh
It’s spring, and the Dogwoods are in their pink, white and purple array. A waterfall cascades down from unseen heights above into a pool of diamond sparkles. A timid deer leaps across the stream as two figures emerge from the surrounding trees. Wearing nothing but what nature gave them, they wade into the pool, slightly separated in space, but tightly connected by that invisible thread of the heart.
Climbing onto a rock beneath the shower of the falls, she stands defiantly, running her fingers through her hair and teasing him with her body while avoiding his gaze. While he carefully begins to stalk her, she pretends to ignore him, wistfully turning this way and that. Moving in close, he begins to tense for the final burst of speed. His quarry suddenly leaps from the rock and escapes beneath the turbulent waters of the pool. Searching, diving, he fails to locate his prey until he feels a tug pulling him under the water and out of the sight of the forest. Startled, he begins to panic but is quickly comforted by the feeling of her lips pressed tightly to his, encouraging him to share her breath and the sensuousness of her body as it floats gently against his… and then she is gone, like the mirage of a mermaid. Emerging near the crashing waters, she clears her eyes and then scans the pool for her lover. A tickle on the inside of her thigh sends her splashing away in a dash for cover, escaping from his grasp.
Surfacing nearby like a crocodile, he slowly glides after her, patiently pursuing, letting his quarry tire before making a final lunge. She tries desperately to make it to the safety of the shore, but he’s just too quick. Pinning her beneath him at the edge of the water, the struggle is over and the lovers succumb to what the forest has witnessed since the beginning of time.
An Afternoon With You
You and I have just returned from a drive through the countryside during a cool fall afternoon. The color of the trees are magnificent and we even stopped to play in the leaves of a wooded grove along a ridge overlooking the valley of our home.
You pull back the hood of your fur-lined parka as I gently touch your cheek and nose against the warmth of my face. My hands slide up and down your back, chasing away the chill. Just the closeness of your body causes my heart to beat faster as you listen to it while tucked away within my arms.
After helping you off with your coat, I take your hands in mine and breath my warm breath over them, then begin kissing your fingers one at a time. Stepping back, you stroll casually into the next room, ignoring me or any of my advances and teasing me with your indifference; but as you turn your back, a little smile crosses your lips.
In mock frustration, I rush, then catch you from behind and sweep you up into my arms. After bursting into laughter, you then look warmly into my eyes. Your face fades from laughter to longing. A slight frown flashes across my brow as I realize that this wonderful moment and the way that you’re looking at me, can’t last forever, no matter how much I pray.
Suddenly, you merge your lips to mine as if this were the last kiss we would ever have.
That evening, as you set the table while I fix dinner, I secretly watch your every move. Each time you approach, I pretend not to notice, but the fragrance of your hair makes my hands tremble. Wrapping your arms around me from behind and pressing close, you let your hands wander up and down my body, nearly causing me to cut my finger. Turning to face you, I find myself pinned to the counter as you embrace me with all of your strength. Wrapping you into my arms, I caress your head as you lay it against my chest.
You never see the tear of joy that runs down my cheek as we simply hold each other, nor do you hear my prayer of thanks offered up to God for creating such a beautiful person as you!
The Gallant Cavalier
The cavalier stood with his back against the side of the cliff, his shield barely protecting him from the fiery blasts of the dragon. His horse trampled into the dust, his friends deserting him in favor of their own lives, he alone faces the dragon as it tries to scratch and claw at him.
He knows he must not fail because no one else is left to defend the kingdom or his true love. The wisp of pink silk torn from her dress and now tied to his wrist, reminds him of her figure and her encouraging smile just before he rode out to face down this dragon. Now it is dirty and stained with his own blood, yet it inspires him and gives him courage.
Throwing aside his own mortality, the cavalier swiftly moves forward and in a flash, the fury of his blade drives the dragon back. The cavalier’s heart, yearning for the sweet taste of his lover’s kiss, strikes valiantly, finding the one vulnerable spot beneath a loose plate of the iron-like scales.
The dying torment of the dragon is nothing compared to the pain within the cavalier as he fears he might not reach home before his blood spills entirely away. With a vision of his lover always before him, the cavalier hobbles and crawls his way over rocks and through streams, always moving toward her.
Finally, pale and battered, he reaches the gate. Hardly recognized by friend or squire, they watch tearfully as he drags himself up the steps toward her chamber. Leaning on his blood stained sword, the knight tosses aside his armor and prepares himself for her embrace. Opening the door and using his final breaths, he presents himself to her room, only to discover the stable boy has taken his favored place at her side.
It's a day after a heavy thunderstorm and cool weather following, so I've got a southern favorite on the stove... a pot of ham and beans! My first encounter with this dish was while I stayed with my maternal grandmother, a Louisiana Cajun, when I was knee high to a cricket. In fact, English was her second language and even then she spoke it with a heavy Cajun-French accent that some people found difficult understanding. Even though she's been gone for years, I carry on many of the dishes and traditions that she taught me. Keeping in touch with our heritage is more important than most people realize.
It's 54 degrees this morning, foggy, overcast, and the first day since last winter that I have to put on a jacket to go outdoors.
If you are from Arkansas, and are a card maker/crafter, then you should consider joining this group! I could use the company. :))
It's not necessarily the situation, but the emotions such as this that can be expressed in the creation of your art.
Waiting By the Sea
On the point of a jetty the figure of a woman stands motionless, framed against the ebb and flow of the waters around her. The wind coming up the Chesapeake Bay whips at her hair and bites at the exposed flesh of her bare arms and neck. Straining her eyes into the distance, the white-capped waves deceive as she searches for first sight of her lover's ship returning after so many months at sea. Ghost-like, ships appear and then glide past, parting the waters in a spray as they have for centuries. She feels a kinship with the long line of wives and lovers who have gone before her as they too scanned this same horizon for the billowing clouds of gleaming white sails, ending the ache and yearning of self imposed exiles.
She recalls their last moments together and the heaviness of her heart as he slipped from her grasp. But that was an eternity ago. Now, every nerve in her body is ablaze with anticipation. The time on her wristwatch seems to crawl, yet the sun, as it nears the horizon, races as fiercely as the wind. The length of the shadows make it all the more difficult to separate illusion from substance with so many miles of turbulent waters between her and the man of her dreams… a dream come to life in flesh and passion.
Chilled to the bone, she shifts from one foot to the other, not just to stave off the cold but because of the energy she has penned up inside waiting to be released upon him.
A wave of doubt and panic sweeps over her as the appointed hour passes… and then another. Blinking back tears, a battle rages within her. Nervously biting her lip, she fights for control and to keep from fleeing in disappointed abandon. The sun begins its slide over the edge of the world as her heart sinks with it. Tearfully, reluctantly, she gives up her place on the jetty and is hardly aware of her arrival back on the shore. Hesitating… afraid of failing in her devotion, she forces herself to look seaward one last time.
As if thrust upward from the depths of the ocean, the bow of a ship is poised between heaven and earth as it silently moves toward her.
Shaking uncontrollably, not from the cold, but from months of restrained emotions, she weeps at the return of her sailor.
Winter EveThrough a window, the glitter of softly falling snow can be seen as firelight presses back the darkness. All has been said and done. The children have families of their own. The last day of work has come and gone, and the couple on the sofa, facing the warmth of a blazing log of hickory, snuggle together under an ancient quilt. Her head on his shoulder, his hand in hers, contentment settles across both of them as a lifetime of love binds them together. The smell of her hair and the softness of her touch still stirs, but this is not the moment for wanton passion. It is a moment to embrace her frail figure, silently expressing his joy for having her by his side.
Late yesterday afternoon the skies really darkened and the wind began whipping the trees. It was when golden leaves flew by sideways that the scene impressed upon me the closeness of fall. Not many trees have turned color yet, I have two maple trees in my front yard that turn fiery gold and fluorescent orange each season, but they are still mostly summer green. Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to dip into the high 30s which, with yesterday's rain, may trigger the change of season. We'll soon see.
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