who would like to write a small poem (or story) to describe this beautiful picture?
Let's see who can really capture the essence here.
have fun.
p.s. would someone else here like to post their favorite pictures?
who would like to write a small poem (or story) to describe this beautiful picture?
Let's see who can really capture the essence here.
have fun.
p.s. would someone else here like to post their favorite pictures?
nacreous - a type of high-flying cloud which often reflects the setting sun back to the earth long after darkness has fallen on the land.
*ahem* err... ok.
one of my favourite pics is on my sig.![]()
-No Turning Back...
"The best way to be successful is to follow the advice you give others." - Anonymous
She has eyes that stare,
and skin so soft,
She sees the cameras,
and looks her best.
She's adored by most,
and knows it well.
But for what I ask,
does anyone else?
Her money piles higher,
but to buy what?
Her pictures get printed,
but not for her.
Her eyes will still stare,
and skin stay soft,
But below this skin,
Is it rotting within?
Does her brain still tick,
or just dead weight?
Has her heart grown cold,
maybe it's dead?
Inside, does blood flow,
maybe just dust?
She's quite beautiful,
But with nothing below!
"There are nine hundred and ninety-nine patrons of virtue to one virtuous man."
- Henry David Thoreau
Here's a glorious picture:
![]()
"There are nine hundred and ninety-nine patrons of virtue to one virtuous man."
- Henry David Thoreau
The jagged edge of the cliff stuck out like a nose on the face of the mountain just blocking the brilliance of the setting sun. The air was still and the only sound to be heard was the distant call of the bald eagle saying goodnight to her egglets. I saw the amber hue turn slowly to rose as the sun drew closer to the water's edge.
Last edited by gr8writer; 05-18-2008 at 06:10 PM.
(I did Nillani's signature pic)
I'm Moving Kinda Slowly
Behind me it is dark.
I can feel my past like a knife in my side,
It reaches out, and calls me back.
It hangs onto me, and I want to shriek.
I struggle so hard not to look back.
And here I stand.
It's a narrow path with enough room for one,
My feet are tired, and my legs nearly shaking.
The sand beneath my feet shuffles, though my feet are almost still.
Not deep in thought my mind is a blurry haze.
Ahead it is peaceful.
The sun touches my skin and soothes my pain,
The sky is rich with life, so distant and yet so close.
The tranquil clouds I notice, where there the whole time.
The warmth of love fills the depths of my being.
And I am serene!
Here's a picture:
If that one's no good, here's another one:
![]()
Last edited by good,_i_mean_well; 05-20-2008 at 07:46 PM. Reason: Wanted to add in a picture for someone else, added a tile next
"There are nine hundred and ninety-nine patrons of virtue to one virtuous man."
- Henry David Thoreau
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