Welcome aboard, Lionpainter, however long it's been that you've been here,
welcome! A word to the wise, keep your Cambridge Encyclopedia of
Philosophy handy if you intend to read any of Speranza's posts. I prefer
to guess at what he means. I am, after all, the only perceiver of
existence from my perspective and my perspective is the only one that seems
to put me first. Poor old Speranza he has to consult three thousand years
of thinkers' thoughts before he begins to even suspect that what he thinks
he knows might just be what he knows and not what he thinks he knows. Or
something like that. I've been with the list before the Great Schism.
There are a lot of fun and very bright, bright people here -- unfortunately
many have drifted away or died since the good old days of yesteryear. I
love the list, it's one of the few intellectual haunts that I've been
allowed to have access to. Your poem is fun. When I was 10 to 12 years
old we lived on a farm in Arkansas raising sheep. So much of who I am is
rooted in those days. Unfortunately we didn't have any zebras or camels.
Just snakes and crows and chickens and opossums and foxes and killdeer and
vultures and lots of lizards. Wish I could buy that old farm back. My
parents were 1950 hippys. Like the 1960 hippys they finally had to get a
job.
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow....
Dream on, dream on, dream on.
-- Yeats (of course)
Memphis Mike.
On Fri, Nov 20, 2015 at 11:06 AM, Lionpainter <lionpainter@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Thank you all or y'all so much for welcoming me and I am pleased that you
spent the time to write in response to my communique/Griceian foibles. I
seem to be consistent even here, being the black sheep! But that is the way
it has always been and so my norm.
I would like to know more about each of you and your lives. Let me share a
bit about me.
Firstly, I am a bit of a hermit. I am an artist, both of painting and
music composition. For awhile I tried to teach art, but found it interfered
with doing art. I am fortunate to be able to say phooey to those that
interfere, or interrupt. I was signed to a large music publishing company
in NYC to give them my melodies and lyrics for money. With good fortune, I
now have my own recording studio to capture my melodies, and an art studio
where I work daily on my paintings. Joy.
I am here, visiting on lit-ideas, due to my self-imposed isolation.
Unfortunately being a hermit has its drawbacks...other humans with
intelligence. It has been lovely to follow your writings for several years
now, silently. You often speak a language I am unable to follow, but
sometimes it connects and inspires. Again, thank you all.
My life here (North Carolina) is filled with animals. In fact almost all
of our friends are animals, unusual animals. In this poem that I wrote last
night for my Little Miss Minnie, a rather normal Standard Poodle, you will
note that there are camels, zebras, and sundry others that fill our lives.
The most significant was a lion and a Bengal tiger named Raja. More of that
later, perhaps.
I am pleased to say that I am recently owned by a very sweet brown spotted
Part Poodle named Miss Minnie. Our dear friends gave her to us as a way of
healing my grief. We had lost our final Irish Setter, of a line of three
generations. The house was silent. Dead silent. I was in tears and weepy
for days. He, my Mark, wanted to travel, so we thought we could live for
awhile without a four footer. Hah! Not even two weeks.
A dear friend that owns a big camel and zebra farm up the road called and
heard my sadness.
"Would you want Miss Minnie to come visit/live with you? We don't have the
time to give her the attention she deserves" he said. "Yes!" I answered
without even asking Mark. Us with a poodle? A big poodle? After years of
Irish madness, four big Irish Setter house dogs, a poodle seemed a strange
choice, but we were open to any baby canine.
When she was born they had already made reservations and plans to go to
Costa Rica for Christmas, last year, and we agreed to puppy sit with her.
Our old girl Tink, my beautiful loving Irish Setter was now almost totally
blind, deaf and was showing signs of her 12 years. Those hips were failing
and life after her brother passed made even cheery Tink melancholy.
It would be difficult keeping the little curious pup away from our beloved
geriatric girl, but we could do it.
When they returned to pick her up we were relieved. Keeping wiggly 6 week
old Miss Minnie away from Tink had been a full time job. Months passed, as
did Tink.
Miss Minnie has more than filled our Setter void. She is a loving, odd and
a great companion. Travel be damned. We have decided to school her to be a
service dog so she can fly and travel anywhere with us. So far so good, as
she just passed and received her first title as a CGC or canine good
companion. Mark, my husband, tough bird that he is, adores her. And she is
on her way to joining us in our travels!
Here is "Miss Minnie's Dream" ...the beginnings of the tales of Minnie.
Little Miss Minnie
Little Miss Minnie
Saw her camel today.
He'd grown six feet since she saw him in May.
Then the big zebra walked by her
And she looked for his colt,
And didn't realize it was him,
in his very large coat.
He stopped and he snorted as she sniffed at the air,
For she had grown too,
And had fluffier hair.
I let them get closer as she wanted to do,
And though zebras are skittish, he was curious too.
Nose to nose they stood silent,
Old friends touching again.
And their tails wagged to each other
As they remembered their friend.
Now who has a zebra
Or a camel as pal?
Miss Minnie our Parti Poodle,
Old Claude, he would howl.
Claude was the Pyrenees that protected the kids,
And anything else he decided was his.
Miss Minnie was big now,
And Claude was alert.
Was she here to visit
Or did she come here to hurt.
The gentle old giant was defender of all,
Protecting the lambs, kids and stallions
From dangers big or small.
But Minnie knew big Claude
and she snuggled beside him,
And off they both trotted,
as he let her go guide him.
Peacocks screamed hi,
And ducks ran in a flurry.
Miss Minnie was back
And she watched pea hens scurry.
Where is my Mama?
Little Minnie asked Claude,
and where is Nedra,
Old Albert and your wife
Mrs. Maude?
She ran into the barn to sniff at the goats
And played with a cricket
And scrambled the oats.
She rambled for hours greeting friends, all
And then finally I found her
Asleep by the stall,
so happy
but tired
my dear little dog.
November 19, 2015 © SLHR
http://www.siennamuseum.com
Cell: 919.268.9241
"When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the
rest of the world." --John Muir
"Decorate yourself from the inside out." --Andrei Turnhollow
Sent from my iPad
