simonejester: danbo and an xbox360 controller (Default)
Fizzy: bahahaha thought
me: ??
Fizzy: (I'm sorry Mr Paterson sir!)
Sent at 2:47 AM on Wednesday
Fizzy: I wrote her out a letter
Which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent off to Alaska Where I thought it ought to go

She'd grown crafty since I knew her
Fond of yarn, so it went to her
Just for fun, addressed as follows
"Spacey of the Overflow"

My answer came directed, as I confess I expected
Though the picture somewhat shocked me - piles of yarn stacked up the wall!
I knew that she must be there, but I found it hard to see there
No matter where I looked, the yarn pile hid her all...
me: :D :D :D
Fizzy: Spacey of the Overflow with apologies to A. B. Paterson
me: May I post that?
Also, see the "yarn mountain" pics, those are the ones I just took: http://www.flickr.com/photos/simonejester/
Fizzy: you can post it
me: You should put that in your assignment. :P
Fizzy: is a poor shadow of a quite well known Aussie poem
me: How does the original go?
Fizzy: http://www.wallisandmatilda.com.au/clancy-of-the-overflow.shtml

AWESOME, I say. XD
simonejester: ([other] lite-brite)
If I should leave this land and not return,
The colors of its tropic dawns would burn
Behind my eyelids like an opal's flames,
And I would hear the music of the names
That Indians gave to rivers, lakes, and streams
Like tom-toms pulsing. Sometimes in my dreams
I'd seek a certain secret jungle place
Where orchids, tangled in the jungle lace,
Are like bright swirls of vivid butterflies.
I'd hear the tropic night alive with cries
Of birds and prowling creatures of the dark.
I'd see jeweled lizards racing on the bark
Of ancient trees gray-veiled with Spanish moss.
I'd see the sun reflecting the golden gloss
Of citrus groves and sense the rich perfume
That scents the silver of the moons that loom
Above this savage land. A thousand scenes
Would crowd my memory-book...the living greens
Of forest and the changing blues of seas.
A tapestry of treasured memories.
One picture, more than all, would seem to hold
This land's great soul enframed in tawny gold,
A picture that will ever haunt my eyes...
Wrought-iron trees against stained-glass skies.


--Don Blanding, Floridays
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