A M A Z I N G

Must See ~ click HERE & enjoy!

Shine On Michael . . .

Michael Jackson ~ Rest In Peace

August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Poetry

Erato ~ The Greecian Poetry Muse

My Friends ~ Poetry In Action

Lincoln Karim & Friends

₪▪₪▪₪▪₪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪▪₪

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ PaleMale & Lola ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
© Lincoln Karim

© Lincoln Karim

On my side bar you will see the link to Lincoln Karim's website, PaleMale under Assorted Sites To Behold... He is much more than an incredible photographer. <--- Click on this link and read the captions all the way down as you view his photos. He is one of my heros.

In mid June of this year long time lover and photgrapher extraordinaire of Pale Male & Lola rescued this cat from New York City's Morningside Park and made his home hers. Bravo Lincoln Karim! As a cat lover I was happily moved to find out Lincoln took in this girl, but not surprised, knowing his love for all animals.

© Lincoln Karim
© Lincoln Karim
© Lincoln Karim

"This ferocious beast prevented me from updating palemale.com today. The said beast had me up all night giving her tummy rubs and a variety of other selfish treats. Please re-visit later in the day to see the rest of Sunday's images." - Lincoln Karim

© Lincoln Karim

Below is an excerpt from Lincoln's PaleMale website with a plea for help:

"The MET is using rodent baiting stations containing the lethal active ingredient 'Bromethalin'. These stations are placed in open areas behind the MET in Central Park specifically where Palemale & Lola catches a great deal of rats! The Metropolitan Museum of Art has a very careless attitude toward animals; Their lavish glass windows kills hundreds of migrating birds each year. Recently the glass in those windows were replaced but nothing was done to the new glass to help prevent this ongoing tragedy. All around the MET are rodent baiting stations which threaten the lives of our precious wildlife especially Palemale & Lola. Both the MET's management and their private pest control contractor has lied to me about the seriousness of the poison used in these bait stations. Presently the bait used is worse than the anti-coagulants used previously. Please call the Director's Office and tell them to stop endangering the lives of our precious wildlife!

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is deceiving the public on the lethal rodenticide they are using! After issuing that sterile 'News Release' on July 15, 2008 in which they pretended to be so remorseful about the lethal poison (FASTRAC, active ingredient 'Bromethalin') which was being used 'without their knowledge', they have now reverted to CONTRAC (active ingredient Bromodiolone) which is just as bad as the poison that they were so sorry to have been using. . . I will not just stand by and take 'pretty' pictures of these animals and not speak out for them! What kind of society will continuously and willfully endanger the life of its precious wildlife especially in these enlightened times? The MET and Central Park must stop their careless attitude toward these weaker and vulnerable creatures."
- Lincoln Karim

The Metropolitian Museum of Art
Philippe de Montebello (Director)
call: (212) 570-3902
or email: philippe.demontebello@metmuseum.org

So beautifully, this photo below shows the special relationship between Lincoln Karim and PaleMale . . .

© Takamitsu Muroi <-- Click here to enlarge image

Grackle

۞ Hawk Roosting ۞

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Pale Male © Lincoln Karim

Hawk Roosting
By Ted Hughes
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mysterious March

۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞

Looking out my window this morning I noticed it is still winter after all…They call it March Madness. It was 70 degrees a couple of days ago and now it’s snowing.
۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞

I checked out back too...yes, it's snow! ۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞~۞

Then I went to the park...after coffee of course.
All Snow Photos © Galatea

Magnificent Maui ~ For Gypsy

********************************************************** ______________________________ © Gypsy 2007

Magnificent Maui
For Gypsy

How many ways can I count
The amount of rays I detect
Reflections of love
In his eyes
As you capture the moment he is in
Sharing him
For Maui has been
On adventures
Sunbathing
Investigating
Patrolling and prowling
In his grand cat-ness
Of stretching pouncing purring
He is beyond this
He is inhabited with intelligence
Spirited with a big heart
Right from the start
I loved him

© Galatea 2007
**********************************************************

Hummm...

**********************************************************
It's A New Day!
**********************************************************

Patti Smith Speaks Out

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

A recording from Patti Smith's New Year's Eve concert.
₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

The passion and clarity in her voice is a powerful truth and worth listening to every word. I'll call it political poetry ~ you can call it what you want... I just ask you to listen to all of it with an open mind and heart.

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

Alphabet River Journey

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Alphabet River Journey
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Another urge to lose myself in a waltz
Before retiring for the day
Cloud formations asserted to fix
Dreams on the loose I wandered to follow
Every satisfaction for a professional spiv
Flower with ease when I think of you
Gardening the heart opens up best
Happiness and love that has been flooded with tests
Into the rushing river
Joyfully paddling in my umiaq
Keeping in mind my water step
Looking at the mountain’s halo
My Raven Clan
Never lost its momentum
On the river as we were never still
Passing the bank
Quietly I unwrapped some baba gannouj
Realizing we needed tasty stimuli
Sent to me especially for this trip from Hannah
Twelve year pilgrimage and our friendship strong
Unique food shipping one can be sure of
Velvet eggplant nourished our paddle
We rested full stomachs as the day ended
Xylophone starlight twinkled with magic
You sang words I would absorb
Zephyrus gave me oh beautiful Collinsia Parviflora


© 2007

Still Falls the Rain ~ By Edith Sitwell

**********************************************
Listen To Edith Sitwell Read Her Poem HERE

Still Falls the Rain
(The Raids, 1940, Night and Dawn)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Still falls the Rain -
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss-
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross

Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
in the Potter's Field, and the sound of the impious feet

On the Tomb:
Still falls the Rain
In the Field of Blood where the small hopes breed and the human brain Nurtures its greed, that worm with the brow of Cain.

Still falls the Rain
At the feet of the Starved Man hung upon the Cross.
Christ that each day, each night, nails there
have mercy on us-
On Dives and on Lazarus:
Under the Rain the sore and the gold are as one.

Still falls the Rain- Still falls the Blood from the Starved Man's wounded Side:
He bears in his Heart all wounds- those of the light that died
The last faint spark
In the self-murdered heart, the wounds of the sad, uncomprehending dark,
The wounds of the baited bear -
The blind and weeping bear whom the keepers beat
On his helpless flesh... the tears of the hunted hare.

Still falls the Rain-
Then - O Ile leape up to my God: who pulles me doune-
See, see where Christ's blood streames in the firmament:
It flows from the Brow we nailed upon the tree
Deep to the dying, to the thirsting heart
That holds the fires of the world - dark-smirched with pain
As Caesar's laurel crown.

Then sounds the voice of One who like the heart of man
Was once a child who among beasts has lain-
'Still do I love, still shed my innocent light, my Blood for thee'.

This photo is priceless! And the poem's a gem.

**********************************************************
Aubade
By Edith Sitwell
*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jane, Jane
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again;

Comb your cockscomb-ragged hair,
Jane, Jane come down the stair.

Each dull blunt wooden stalactite
Of rain creaks, hardened by the light,

Sounding like an overtone
From some lonely world unknown.

But the creaking empty light
Will never harden into sight,

Will never penetrate your brain
With overtones like the blunt rain.

The light would show (if it could harden)
Eternities of kitchen garden,

Cockscomb flowers that none will pluck,
And wooden flowers that 'gin to cluck.

In the kitchen you must light
Flames as staring, red and white,

As carrots or as turnips, shining
Where the cold dawn light lies whining.

Cockscomb hair on the cold wind.
Hangs limp, turns the milk's weak wind...

Jane, Jane
Tall as a crane,
The morning light creaks down again!

The Joy of Bubbles

photographer unknown