|
|
|
Topic: Mr O's *BUMPER* Semi-Notoriously ODD Thread *NOW FREE!* **CHRISTMAS EDITION!!!**
| |
|
|
Author
| Message |
|
|
No chess books around the house uh?
Human corpse, hmmm... young female or not?
|
|
|
I never throw books away. They go on the fire when it gets cold.
It's an old tramp who must have climbed in through the roof some years ago. He doesn't bother me but I need the room.
|
|
|
Hey Andy, while you're advertising for this thread... you know how I said somewhere some time ago that I didn't have a job? Well, I was hired somewhere this week! (It's a perfect job, too... it's exactly what I studied in, very nice salary and other advantages like retirement plan and all that, etc.). It's actually a better job than I was hoping for... and considering the current situation (economy-wise) and how nobody hires anywhere, I think I got *very* lucky.
I'm starting on next Monday so... maybe I won't be so omnipresent anymore.
|
|
|
| Well, I was hired somewhere this week! |
That's great news
...maybe I won't be so omnipresent anymore. |
That's great news
|
|
|
And now...
** POEM OF THE WEEK! **
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud by William Wordsworth
[Translated from English into German and then back into English]
I Walked Lonely As Cloud
I walked lonely as cloud Of this swim on high o' äh valleys and hills, When in a course I saw a mass, A landlord, the golden narcissuses; Beside the lake under the trees, Flutter and dancing into the Brise.
Continuously as the stars, those shine And a sparkling on the Milky Way, You expanded into line always lasting Along the side edge of a bay: I saw ten thousand ones on a view, Throwing their heads in the lively dance.
The waves beside them danced, but them Exceeded the sparkling sheets in joys; A poet could not be however homosexual, In such one jocund company! I stared - and angestarrt - however little thought on, Which wealth had gotten the appearance to me:
For often if on my couch I lie In the free or thoughtful tendency, You flash after this internal eye Of which the luck of the isolation is; And then my heart with pleasure filling And dances with the narcissuses.
I particularly like that last rhyme (Mr Onceupon, Poetry critic)
|
| Previous 1 ... 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 ... 17 Next |
|
|
|