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PostPosted: Sat Mar 01, 2003 1:27 pm 
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Gosh, Phantom, I fear revealing my autumn age, but the song, Crystal Blue Persuasion, was written by Tommy James and the Shondells in '69. Was that the summer of '69? Oops, sorry, that's another song.


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PostPosted: Sat Mar 01, 2003 8:46 pm 
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How very entertaining :D

"Most of my sins these days are the color of amber"

I wonder. Amber is a Sun Stone. "The modern name for amber is thought to come from the Arabic word, amber, meaning ambergris. Ambergris is the waxy substance formed in the intestines of sperm whales and used to make perfumes".

How wild, sir. I have never done anything of a kind... :( Now I may learn what envy is about, which is a sin cactus green. :mrgreen: It also says that Amber was listed among other precious decorations by Homer in the Odyssey. It was mentioned by Aristotle, Plato, Theophrastus, Tacitus, and Strabo. Amber myths are so romantic. Four of them are presented at http://amberlady.com/stories.htm

To reply with the same sincerity: once I corrupted a chicken. He was a cute little rooster who loved flies more than anything in the world. I caught flies for him daily, and finally he developed deep sense of devotion for me. He rushed to greet me every morning, he slept on my shoulder, he pooped on my lap and a year later he learnt how to sing my name. 8) My Grandma did not have guts to make a chicken soup out of my dearest friend. He faced his death on the road, like so many of us, humans.


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PostPosted: Sat Mar 01, 2003 9:43 pm 
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I got curious about the origin of the color perception of words; :idea: Wonderland of Internet provided me with the following answer:

"This phenomenon had got focus of scholars' studies at the end of XIX century, the initial impetus being made by the scandalous and famous "color sonnet" of A.Rimbaut, "The Vowels" ("A" is black, "I" has a blood color, etc.). This gave origin to the term "color hearing", rather uncommon one, just as Rimbaut's poetry was.
In Russian poetry there are many not completely common yet acceptable comparisons as "the dawn-blue sound of the flute" (K.Balmont), "the cries are thrown as the handfuls of golden coins" (A.Block)".

http://prometheus.kai.ru/lofty_e.htm

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PostPosted: Sun Mar 02, 2003 5:29 am 
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Cactus Green?That was cute!
I once posted that "Phaedrus shines like polished brass." :)

I have used color in the following titles of poems, riddles or stories.

The Riddle of the Amber Heart

In my palm, an object I hold--
A symbol of life but devoid of soul.
It is charged with fire but forged of wood.
What is somewhat yellow but not quite gold?

(In 1999 I bought an Amber Heart pendant for a Valentine's gift for The Queen. I became enamoured with the beauty of the heart and wrote the riddle the same day.)

Ode in Blue(An Ode of Love)
Onxy Ursus (A poetic tribute to a black bear)
The Quest of the Ivory Crown (A competition component riddle)
Rhapsody in Red(A Valentine's Poem)
The Three Stones (A Riddle of Ruby, Golden Topaz & Emerald)
The 4 X 4 of Cobalt Ridge(A tribute to a trophy deer)
Tarnished Trophies ( A story of two trophies

The Riddle of the Archer's Call

Deep within a wooded gorge,
Where timbers rise to kiss the fog;
Earthward falls a misty creek
That whispers froth of hollow's white.

Rain of spring, drought of summer,
Gust of autumn, stone of winter--
How be there such a quizzical substance;
Dense such that, no dagger doth pierce it--
Hidden so well, no eyes do see it?

Its soft as water and hard as stone--
Sharp as death and gray as bone.
Its bright as autumn and cool as snow--
White as frost and dark as coal!

The answer lies within the forest--
Within the forest of the soul!

1991


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PostPosted: Sun Mar 02, 2003 7:55 am 
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One does not have to break a sweat to find color used in book titles, songs, movies or the names of rock and roll bands. Finding a quote that utilzes color is not so common.

Rock-n-Roll Bands:

Red Hot Chili Peppers
The Black Crows
The Moody Blues
Black Oak Arkansas
Black Sabbath

In songs color is often used to reflect a mood ( White Christmas vs Blue Christmas ).
Blue Skies (smiling at me) nothing but blue skies, do I see ...
Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree ...
Purple Haze
Purple Rain
Brown Eyed Girl
Brown Sugar
Blue Sued Shoes
The Orange Blossom Special
A Heart of Gold
The Yellow Rose of Texas
How about some "Blue Grass?"
Green Grass & High Tides Forever
Blue Moon
By the light of the Silvery Moon
Little Brown Jug


In sports, when one says the "The Big Orange" they are probably talking about the Tennessee Volunteers.
The Crimson Tide of Alabama


Books:
The Riders of the Purple Sage
The Red Badge of Courage
------------------------------------------------------



There's a yellow rose of Texas
That I am going to see
No other feller knows her
no feller only me
It hurt me so to leave her
It like to break my heart
And if I every find her
We never more will part ...


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PostPosted: Sun Mar 02, 2003 1:23 pm 
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You are a poet!

A yellow rose of Texas....
and they will never part...
:?

I always thought: as Red rose is a symbol of passion, yellow flower is a symbol of saying Good Bye.

Onxy Ursus (A poetic tribute to a black bear)
Is that true that hunters hunt not because they are cold-hearted and cruel people, but because they love nature, they love the prey. They kill what they love in order to possess?

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PostPosted: Sun Mar 02, 2003 3:21 pm 
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The man who wrote the Yellow Rose of Texas was probably in love with a woman who had blonde hair. Yellow can mean different things in different context. The song, Tie a Yellow Ribbon around the Old Oak Tree, suggest that yellow was a sign of accpetance.
----------------------

Why men should kill deer is a moot question, but it is a habit of the brute. For so many hundreds of years have we been at it, that we can hardly be expected to reform immediately. Undoubtedly, it is a sign of undeveloped ethnic consciousness. We are depraved animals. I must admit that there are quite a number of things men do that mark them as far below the angels, but in a way I am glad of it. The thrill and glow of nature is strong within us. The great primitive outer world is still unconquered, and there are impulses within the breast of man not yet measured, curbed and devitalized, which are the essential motives of life. Therefore, without wantonness and without cruelty, we shall hunt as long as the arm has strength, the eye glistens, and the heart throbs.

Lead on!

-- Dr. Saxton Pope, Hunting with the Bow and Arrow (1920)
------------------------------------


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PostPosted: Sun Mar 02, 2003 3:43 pm 
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I felt that I was over-simplifying the matter :lol: Thank you!

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Eden Phillpotts


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 03, 2003 7:56 am 
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Though your sins be scarlet, they shall be white as snow.

--Old Testement, Isaiah, I, 18
------------------------------------

I guess that 1979 could be best described as a scarlet year. :) During the spring of 1979 I got a job as a bar keep at The Keg in Fulton, Kentucky. (Fulton Kentucky was about 12 miles north of Martin, Tennessee.) Fulton was "wet" but Martin was "dry." By wet I mean that the sale of Liquor was legal. One could buy beer in Martin but liquor was not legal to sell. It was my job to tap beer, serve rib sandwiches and throw out rowdy drunks from time to time. I was required to wear a clean white T-shirt and a clean white apron. The Keg was a restaurant that specialized in bar-b-qued pork ribs. We served also regular pork bar-b-q, hamburgers and white beans. The Keg liquor store was an establishement that happened to be right next door to the restaurant. The two stores were owned by the same man. One day the owner asked me if I wanted to make some extra money? Sure! All I had to do was load up 10 cases of whiskey and drive the load across the state line about 20 miles to Greenfield, Tennessee. He said I would be paid $40.00 upon delivery. OK.

The next day I went to see my good friend Carl. I asked Carl if I could please borrow his new truck. He did ask why I needed his truck? I told him that I needed to haul some supplies from Fulton to Greenfield. He said. "be sure to gas up the truck when you are finished." I said "OK!" :mrgreen:

Though my sins were scarlet my shirt was white as snow.


Last edited by Phantom_Delta on Fri Mar 07, 2003 1:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 04, 2003 1:55 pm 
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Ivorybird wrote:


Onxy Ursus (A poetic tribute to a black bear)
Is that true that hunters hunt not because they are cold-hearted and cruel people, but because they love nature, they love the prey. They kill what they love in order to possess?


It was way back in autumn of 84 when I was hunting bear in the Black River bottom. The sky was overcast and the breeze was blowing out of the southeast. I was sitting on a stool that was situated inside the crown of a deadfall timber. Calvin was resting across my upper legs. He didn’t say much but when he did speak he spoke with the authority of autumn thunder. There was a thermos of coffee in my pack and also a maple nut cake. The deadfall gave me enough cover to conceal movement so I unscrewed the thermos, poured a cup of black coffee then took a sip. Ahhhh! The nut cake was right tasty. There was the sound of acorns dropping on the ground. A mosquito was buzzing around my face just enough to pester me. October was happening. These woods were mostly mature hardwoods. To my front I could see a stand of persimmon trees that were no more than one hundred feet away. The coffee and cake had set well with me. Suddenly my heart surged from the instant message that my eyes sent to my brain. BEAR! A bruin was closing in on the persimmon grove. The wind was with me so he couldn’t pick up my scent. I raised Calvin to my shoulder then centered the front bead on the shoulder of the approaching bear. It was a quartering shot—a shot that required exact placement. The roar of the rifle was magnanimous. Windblown leaves whirled in the wake of the flight of the bullet. The bear fell with a mighty growl! Calvin had delivered a fatal blow. It all happened so quickly that I was still in shock. My hands shuddered—my heart throbbed. The breeze brought a whiff of gunpowder past my nostrils. The spent brass was lying on crimson colored leaves—glistening in the contrast. The musk of the beast finally reached my nose. He was down for the count.

Along a path trod Onyx Ursus
And on the sand he left his spoor …

(Excerpt from: The Red Leaves Trail, 1984, Onyx Ursus)

http://xroads.virginia.edu/~HYPER/HNS/S ... ockett.htm


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