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PostPosted: September 11 18, 7:18 pm 
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All Hail the New GDT Master
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Joined: April 26 11, 6:06 am
Posts: 21050
Location: Columbus, OH
Quote:
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.


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PostPosted: September 18 18, 1:26 pm 
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All Hail the New GDT Master
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Joined: April 26 11, 6:06 am
Posts: 21050
Location: Columbus, OH


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PostPosted: October 31 18, 12:27 pm 
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Next Gen Wart
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Joined: April 22 06, 6:53 pm
Posts: 8308
Location: St. Louis
I think this thread is the reason the database keeps breaking.


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PostPosted: October 31 18, 7:30 pm 
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All Hail the New GDT Master
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Joined: April 26 11, 6:06 am
Posts: 21050
Location: Columbus, OH
Ugh I almost missed October. Thanks for the bump Theo.

Como una promesa, eres tu, eres tu
Como una manana de verano
Como una sonrisa, eres tu, eres tu
Asi, asi, eres tu.

Toda mi esperanza, eres tu, eres tu
Como lluvia fresca en mis manos
Como fuerte brisa, eres tu, eres tu
Asi, asi, eres tu

Eres tu como el agua de mi fuente
(Algo asi eres tu)
Eres tu el fuego de mi hogar
Eres tu como el fuego de mi hoguera
Eres tu el trigo de mi pan

Como mi poema, eres tu, eres tu
Como una guitarra en la noche
Todo mi horizonte eres tu, eres tu
Asi, asi, eres tu

Eres tu como el agua de mi fuente
(Algo asi eres tu)
Eres tu el fuego de mi hogar
Eres tu como el fuego de mi hoguera
Eres tu el trigo de mi pan

Eres tu...


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PostPosted: November 1 18, 5:37 pm 
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Perennial All-Star
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Joined: April 17 06, 6:50 am
Posts: 6467
Location: Boston burbs
I got a lead on a great deal, some cash from A third world country, Tennessee i think, but i need someone's legit SSN and vitals to get the money transferred. Oh, and a kidney. But it is totally legit, the perspn just is in a bind and needs a third party that their secret police won'tbe able to connect easily.

And this is eapecially good deal if you like trampolines. More details on that if you PM me. include photo of a recent pet.


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PostPosted: December 8 18, 2:52 pm 
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All Hail the New GDT Master
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Joined: April 26 11, 6:06 am
Posts: 21050
Location: Columbus, OH


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PostPosted: December 13 18, 4:04 pm 
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just can't quit you.
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Joined: April 18 06, 4:33 pm
Posts: 23971
Location: Lost
Image


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PostPosted: December 20 18, 6:16 pm 
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All Hail the New GDT Master
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Joined: April 26 11, 6:06 am
Posts: 21050
Location: Columbus, OH
wart57 wrote:
Image


Way to be proud Manatee. We love you.


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PostPosted: January 9 19, 10:48 pm 
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All Hail the New GDT Master
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Joined: April 26 11, 6:06 am
Posts: 21050
Location: Columbus, OH
Jack Buck wrote:
When someone asks you your favorite sport
And you answer Baseball in a blink
There are certain qualities you must possess
And you're more attached than you think.
In the frozen grip of winter
I'm sure you'll agree with me
Not a day goes by without someone
Talking baseball to some degree.
The calendar flips on New Year's Day
The Super Bowl comes and it goes
Get the other sports out of the way
The green grass and the fever grows.
It's time to pack a bag and take a trip
To Arizona or the Sunshine State
Perhaps you can't go, but there's the radio
So you listen-you root-you wait.
They start the campaign, pomp and pageantry reign
You claim the pennant on Opening Day

From April till fall
You follow the bouncing white ball
Your team is set to go all the way.
They fall short of the series
You have a case of the "wearies"
And need as break from the game
But when Christmas bells jingle
You feel that old tingle
And you're ready for more of the same.
It will be hot dogs for dinner
Six months of heaven, a winner
Yes, Baseball has always been it.
You would amaze all your friends
If they knew to what ends
You'd go for a little old hit.
The best times you're had
Have been with your Mom and your Dad
And a bat and a ball and a glove.

From the first time you played
Till the last time you prayed
It's been a simple matter of love.


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PostPosted: January 10 19, 6:01 am 
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AAA Minor League Player
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Joined: December 30 18, 2:28 pm
Posts: 59
Location: Chambersburg, Pennsylvania
CardsofSTL wrote:
Quote:
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

There is a special corner in woods, on the north side of an eastern Pennsylvania mountain, not too steep, but just easy enough to navigate without exerting too much energy, depending on age, of course. I say “corner” because an old overgrown, abandoned power line runs south to north along one side and and underground pipe line runs west to east on the other. This narrow trail leads into the woods where any number of deer trails cross the underground line and lead me to that special spot of which I speak. Deer trails that have been used by generations of deer for possibly hundreds of years. I have only visited there since 1969. There is a little group of white birch in a section of that corner of the woods, surrounded by tall grasses. About four different stands of white birch, with three or four trunks bending slightly up and outwards with bark peeling. I have often wondered if the Indians that lived in these woods a long time ago used birch like these to build their canoes. There are many pretty spots in the woods to visit, to hunt, to think and to just enjoy nature. But this little stand of white birch, with criss-crossing deer trails, is the prettiest spot I have found. It’s quiet. Occasionally a nuthatch flitters by and sits close to me. It gives me much pleasure to be there.


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