This forum needs some love

[Rekz]

Happy V'day to all.....stop hating...start loving..

Admin pls say i love u to Rashmun...
Just say it..with a blue flower

[Maria S]

To you too and nice to see you Rekz ..you are courageous..don't ever change !

love,

[Idéfix]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

[Guest]

[Guest]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

so is munmun out of your foes list?

[bw]

too much love.

[Idéfix]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

so is munmun out of your foes list?

No, because I love my sanity a wee bit more.

[Idéfix]

too much love.

And that was before I started using the real emoticon for this:

Now, analyze this!

[Guest]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

so is munmun out of your foes list?

No, because I love my sanity a wee bit more.

your love is as fake as those flowers.

[bw]

too much love.

And that was before I started using the real emoticon for this:

Now, analyze this!

a middle-parted bald head? or....

[Guest]

too much love.

And that was before I started using the real emoticon for this:

Now, analyze this!

a middle-parted bald head? or....

that's a dent on the head that pp got, from rashmun's right hand man.

[bw]

too much love.

And that was before I started using the real emoticon for this:

Now, analyze this!

a middle-parted bald head? or....

that's a dent on the head that pp got, from rashmun's right hand man.

oh, that's the imprint left by someone's firmly planted foot on his "middle-parted head" - of course!

[Idéfix]

too much love.

And that was before I started using the real emoticon for this:

Now, analyze this!

a middle-parted bald head? or....

that's a dent on the head that pp got, from rashmun's right hand man.

LOL!

Vidya, I am taking your criticism seriously. I have now researched and found a manual for how to love properly, not fakely.

http://www.wikihow.com/Love

I find item 7 useful here.

PS: Thanks to DNA for introducing me to this site. It is funny in an ironic sort of way.

[Guest]

LOL. good one.

son started doing this with me lately. Says, 'mommy I have good news for you'. and when I asked what, he gives me a big hug... and now daughter has picked it up too.

Now the moment either of them says, 'mommy...'. I go, 'bas bas, I have had enough good news. Can't handle any more good news'. They still jump and hug (or if i am sitting on my rickety arm chair, then they drop on me and hug).

[Maria S]

Rekz,

Serious question..do you watch Sun TV? Any Tamil serials? I like to watch Radhika serials- when I can, have not seen too many good women characters like she creates/portrays- even in American serials. Tonight, am watching this new one..in dual roles "Vani-Rani"..as always she is great with the contrasts.

Ok, GN!

[Hellsangel]

[bw]

aww, snoopy, thanks! so much love!

[Guest]

too much love.

And that was before I started using the real emoticon for this:

Now, analyze this!

a middle-parted bald head? or....

that's a dent on the head that pp got, from rashmun's right hand man.

oh, that's the imprint left by someone's firmly planted foot on his "middle-parted head" - of course!

I thought the imprint of JM's boots had been left on Propagandhi's bum not yours I mean not PP's.

[Hellsangel]

aww, snoopy, thanks! so much love!

The music video was based on this poem:

The Highwayman







THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
'Now, keep good watch!' and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.






Alfred Noyes

[goodcitizn]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

I take it back. This forum requires censorship!

[Rekz]

Rekz,

Serious question..do you watch Sun TV? Any Tamil serials? I like to watch Radhika serials- when I can, have not seen too many good women characters like she creates/portrays- even in American serials. Tonight, am watching this new one..in dual roles "Vani-Rani"..as always she is great with the contrasts.

Ok, GN!

Hey Maria ...No ..no time for telly these days...actress Radhika? yup she is good...Hope u r doing good...

Thanks for the kinda words

[Rekz]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

I take it back. This forum requires censorship!

Censorship is for hate & voilence not for love-u GOODY

[goodcitizn]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

I take it back. This forum requires censorship!

Censorship is for hate & voilence not for love-u GOODY

Okay, ma, conceded. Can at least the blue flowers be pruned?

[Idéfix]

I love you, Rashmun. Here:

I love you too, Rekzu. Here:

I take it back. This forum requires censorship!

[Rekz]

Rashmun- Is that u drawing RED line on PP's post?

[Guest]

The Highwayman







THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
'Now, keep good watch!' and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.






Alfred Noyes

OMG! i had once memorized this entire poem for an an inter-school elocution contest in class 8. when i got on stage, i completely froze and couldn't remember a single word of it. ms menon, who had nominated me for the contest -- well, she put me on her foe's list! i stuck to debates and extempore speech contests after that -- started hating elocution contests.

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