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Re: The Dog and The King

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Tolkien has written the story Farmer Giles in which a dog a-dogs his

master as well . Thank you for this !

>

> " The Dog and The King "

>

> The masses are here my master

> They wield their hate with threat

> We will cave in if you do not stop this disaster

> They have come to claim our debt

>

> Come no my easy servant, get a grip of your fears

> Things are not as serious as you presumed

> So let them cry and time will have their hate consumed

>

> But master, they are coming through the door

> I can not hold them off for long

> They have gathered with the savages of the moor

> And I am afraid we are singing on our last song

>

> Easily startled are you my dog

> Where ever did you learn to speak the tongue of men

> No one is coming through the door you silly, silly hen

>

> I hear your words but I do not understand

> There is too much noise for my ears to handle

> And your insults are no helping hand

> As I try to uncover this loud darkness with my only candle

>

> The thorough beating of the crowds

> Is an illusion that you will never understand

> It is a noise that will not be stopped by any paw or hand

>

> Why are you not afraid, tell my what it is

> For if it is not an angry mob

> It must be something else of unholy bliss

> And there is too much fear in my blood for my heart to throb

>

> My dear servant, you lack the wit

> To understand that it is thunder you seem to hear

> It comes from the heavens and has the sky lit

> So there is no angry crowd for you to fear

>

> Thank you my master, you are my owl of wisdom

> But must nature play such confusing tricks

> Just to see us dogs get lost in our freedom

> As it sticks to our fur like a persistent tick

>

> My little hairy companion, how you must suffer

> You seem to be lost more often than found

> A homemade brew of courage is all that I can offer

> To dog my dog, whose folly believes the world is round

>

> The End

>

>

>

>

>

>

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Okay Elven Singer-what's the point of this. I don't get it

--randy

-- In Loving-what-is , " White Lion "

<elven_singer@y...> wrote:

>

> " The Dog and The King "

>

> The masses are here my master

> They wield their hate with threat

> We will cave in if you do not stop this disaster

> They have come to claim our debt

>

> Come no my easy servant, get a grip of your fears

> Things are not as serious as you presumed

> So let them cry and time will have their hate consumed

>

> But master, they are coming through the door

> I can not hold them off for long

> They have gathered with the savages of the moor

> And I am afraid we are singing on our last song

>

> Easily startled are you my dog

> Where ever did you learn to speak the tongue of men

> No one is coming through the door you silly, silly hen

>

> I hear your words but I do not understand

> There is too much noise for my ears to handle

> And your insults are no helping hand

> As I try to uncover this loud darkness with my only candle

>

> The thorough beating of the crowds

> Is an illusion that you will never understand

> It is a noise that will not be stopped by any paw or hand

>

> Why are you not afraid, tell my what it is

> For if it is not an angry mob

> It must be something else of unholy bliss

> And there is too much fear in my blood for my heart to throb

>

> My dear servant, you lack the wit

> To understand that it is thunder you seem to hear

> It comes from the heavens and has the sky lit

> So there is no angry crowd for you to fear

>

> Thank you my master, you are my owl of wisdom

> But must nature play such confusing tricks

> Just to see us dogs get lost in our freedom

> As it sticks to our fur like a persistent tick

>

> My little hairy companion, how you must suffer

> You seem to be lost more often than found

> A homemade brew of courage is all that I can offer

> To dog my dog, whose folly believes the world is round

>

> The End

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Do you wish me to tell you the point, or yourself to tell you a

point?

This poem is much like a blue spot painted on a public wall.

What's the point? Well I'll tell you a little story about this blue

spot :)

During a summer morning came an old man, stagling across the street

to see what it was he was looking at on the wall, yes, it was in

fact a blue spot.

The old man, who had been a sailor all his life, remembered his

years on the sea, gazing at the blue spot, and saw his past and was

filled with nostlagia and warmth.

Later the same day a young girl in a pink dress hopped by and

stopped right infront of the same blue spot. She smiled and laughed

a little, remembering her last summer at her grandmother's house in

the country, and how she used to go down to the lake nearby this

house to splash around and look for water creatures.

She was enjoyed by remembering her story of her past, brought to her

present moment by this blue spot.

Later in the twilight evening an middle-aged lady stepped out of her

car, parked next to the single blue spotted wall and stod silent.

A tear left her left eye as she came to think of her son that she

had lost in a rough storm at sea, and how after the storm the water

became more blue as ever she had seen.

From a simple, plain blue spot on the wall, amazing life experiences

can come together yet still remaining different and diverse, filling

themselves with all kinds of emotions, memories.

Do you see? A poem is much like a blue spot, an opportunity for you

as an individual to make your own choice and to let that blue spot

become as one with your mind.

No matter why the painter wanted to put a blue spot on the wall,

still he did, he reallyn really did put a blue spot on the wall.

Why? What does it matter, aren't we going to paint it with our own

colours alas?

The blue spot will always be valued by the eyes of the beholder,

this is life, this is truth, this is real, this is poetry :)

Much love, little thought :)

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