Uploads from Loren Zemlicka, tagged rockcounty

Purpling Grapes and Sky

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Thu, 13 Sep 2012 05:55:39 -0700

© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

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Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,
The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,
And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,
With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,
Like that which o’er Nineveh’s prophet once grew,
While he waited to know that his warning was true,
And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain
For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.

Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling,
When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!
When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin,
Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!
When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,
Our chair a broad pumpkin, — our lantern the moon,
Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam
In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team!

- Exerpt from "The Pumpkin" by John Greenleaf Whittier

Over the Fence

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 04 Sep 2012 05:58:13 -0700

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© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

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"If you strive for the moon, maybe you'll get over the fence."

- James Wood

Beyond the Murmurs of Mankind

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Wed, 13 Jun 2012 04:55:25 -0700

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© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

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Evening! as slow thy placid shades descend,
Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still,
The lonely battlement, the farthest hill
And wood, I think of those who have no friend;
Who now, perhaps, by melancholy led,
From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts,
Retiring, wander to the ring-dove’s haunts
Unseen; and watch the tints that o’er thy bed
Hang lovely; oft to musing Fancy’s eye
Presenting fairy vales, where the tir’d mind
Might rest beyond the murmurs of mankind,
Nor hear the hourly moans of misery!
Alas for man! that Hope’s fair views the while
Should smile like you, and perish as they smile!

- "Evening" by William Lisle Bowles

Hope is Like a Road in the Country

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 05:10:10 -0700

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© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

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"Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence."

- Lyn Yutang

Badfish Goodnight

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 09:47:51 -0800

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

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The Badfish Creek in southern Wisconsin was originally named Waucoma by the original Native American inhabitants.

This account of how the Badfish mistakingly got its name comes from the Cooksville Blog:

"The name, “Bad Fish,” appears to have been applied, perhaps mistakenly, in late 1833, when the U.S. government land surveyors were moving through the Wisconsin part of the Michigan Territory from the east and the Rock River to the west past the Yahara (Catfish) River and on further west in Rock County (then part of Brown County), through a “Rolling Prairie,” as their sketch map called it. When the surveyors came upon a large creek in the northwest corner of what is now Rock County, they apparently thought they had reached a part of the Bad Fish River (later the Sugar River) system.

The Bad Fish River was the name of the upper branch of the Sugar River at that time. The land surveyors presumed, mistakenly, that the little creek flowing from that direction was a small tributary of the Bad Fish River. Thus, they named it the Bad Fish Creek.

For whatever reason, the name “Bad Fish Creek” was recorded in the early 1830s survey."

The Badfish Creek is now a favorite paddling destination in the Madison - Oregon area.

Ode On Solitude

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 04:49:07 -0700

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

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Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.

Whose heards with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye.

- "Ode On Solitude" by Alexander Pope

What is Fenced Out and What is Fenced In

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 05:00:23 -0700

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

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I saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov’d; in which the world
And all her train were hurl’d.
The doting lover in his quaintest strain
Did there complain;
Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights,
Wit’s sour delights,
With gloves, and knots, the silly snares of pleasure,
Yet his dear treasure
All scatter’d lay, while he his eyes did pour
Upon a flow’r.

From "The World" by Henry Vaughan

Beneath The Crowning Sun

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 04:31:03 -0700

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

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What are we first? First, animals; and next
Intelligences at a leap; on whom
Pale lies the distant shadow of the tomb,
And all that draweth on the tomb for text.
Into which state comes Love, the crowning sun:
Beneath whose light the shadow loses form.
We are the lords of life, and life is warm.
Intelligence and instinct now are one.

- Modern Love XXX by George Meredith

Three Alone

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 24 May 2011 04:59:16 -0700

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2011 Our Daily Challenge 9/365 - Tree

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 16:16:25 -0800

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A Hole in the Sky

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 04:46:40 -0700

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© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

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I'm looking through a hole in the sky
I'm seeing nowhere through the eyes of a lie
I'm getting closer to the end of the line
I'm living easy where the sun doesn't shine

I'm living in a room without any view
I'm living free because the rent's never due
The synonyms of all the things that I've said
Are just the riddles that are built in my head

Hole in the sky, take me to heaven
Window in time, through it I fly

- From "Hole in the Sky" by Black Sabbath

Gone, Gone Again

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 04:42:33 -0700

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© 2012 Loren Zemlicka

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Gone, gone again,
May, June, July,
And August gone,
Again gone by,

Not memorable
Save that I saw them go,
As past the empty quays
The rivers flow.

And now again,
In the harvest rain,
The Blenheim oranges
Fall grubby from the trees

As when I was young
And when the lost one was here
And when the war began
To turn young men to dung.

Look at the old house,
Outmoded, dignified,
Dark and untenanted,
With grass growing instead

Of the footsteps of life,
The friendliness, the strife;
In its beds have lain
Youth. love, age, and pain:

I am something like that;
Only I am not dead,
Still breathing and interested
In the house that is not dark:--

I am something like that:
Not one pane to reflect the sun,
For the schoolboys to throw at--
They have broken every one.

- "Gone, Gone Again" by Edward Thomas

I Go On Forever

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 05:18:31 -0700

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

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I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may comeand men may go,
But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out,
with here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silver water-break
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

- Exerpt from "The Brook" by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Let The Evening Come

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 04:08:39 -0700

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

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Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

- Jane Kenyon "Let the Evening Come"

Quiet Dusk

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Wed, 25 May 2011 05:49:49 -0700

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The Fading Hour

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Tue, 17 May 2011 05:34:53 -0700

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© 2011 Loren Zemlicka

“Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever.”

- Horace Mann

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Hay Bales

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Fri, 13 May 2011 04:24:33 -0700

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Sundown on the Rock River

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Wed, 11 May 2011 04:55:15 -0700

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When The Sun Touches The Field

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Mon, 09 May 2011 04:52:23 -0700

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2011 Our Daily Challenge 64/365 - Aged

nobody@flickr.com (Loren Zemlicka) — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 09:44:01 -0800

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