dutchgirl
12-28-2009, 10:18 AM
Bill did it!!!!
Kill, Ruth, kill!!!
Kill, Ruth, kill!!!
Games - Threadkiller Fab Fourteen
Operator265
12-28-2009, 10:58 AM
What a bunch of losers!!!!!!!!!
cathydoe
12-28-2009, 11:08 AM
Losers? Some one say losers? Ha...I am learning much poise here... thanks to my literary posters! And to think I thought about killing the tread with:
Jack be Nimble....
Jack be Nimble....
mrsaugie
12-28-2009, 11:13 AM
I see we did it AGAIN.
BillBlueEyes
12-28-2009, 11:51 AM
What a bunch of losers!!!!!!!!!Good to see you Operator - hope Christmas didn't mellow your style.
dutchgirl
12-28-2009, 12:24 PM
What a bunch of losers!!!!!!!!!
Glad to see you back!!! And with your usual style and grace. We missed you,girl.
Glad to see you back!!! And with your usual style and grace. We missed you,girl.
EZMONEY
12-28-2009, 12:59 PM
are we that screwed up we can't even kill a freakin' thread?
BillBlueEyes
12-28-2009, 01:20 PM
. . .
All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
No church-bell lent its Christian tone
To the savage air, no social smoke
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.
A solitude made more intense
By dreary-voicėd elements,
The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.
Beyond the circle of our hearth
No welcome sound of toil or mirth
Unbound the spell, and testified
Of human life and thought outside.
We minded that the sharpest ear
The buried brooklet could not hear,
The music of whose liquid lip
Had been to us companionship,
And, in our lonely life, had grown
To have an almost human tone.
. . .
[645 lines to go.]
All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
No church-bell lent its Christian tone
To the savage air, no social smoke
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.
A solitude made more intense
By dreary-voicėd elements,
The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.
Beyond the circle of our hearth
No welcome sound of toil or mirth
Unbound the spell, and testified
Of human life and thought outside.
We minded that the sharpest ear
The buried brooklet could not hear,
The music of whose liquid lip
Had been to us companionship,
And, in our lonely life, had grown
To have an almost human tone.
. . .
[645 lines to go.]
BillBlueEyes
12-28-2009, 02:41 PM
. . .
. . .
Yet, haply, in some lull of life,
Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,
The worldling's eyes shall gather dew,
Dreaming in throngful city ways
Of winter joys his boyhood knew;
And dear and early friends -- the few
Who yet remain -- shall pause to view
These Flemish pictures of old days;
Sit with me by the homestead hearth,
And stretch the hands of memory forth
To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze!
And thanks untraced to lips unknown
Shall greet me like the odors blown
From unseen meadows newly mown,
Or lilies floating in some pond,
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond;
The traveller owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air.
[All done; no lines to go. This thread may die. No replacement is required.]
. . .
Yet, haply, in some lull of life,
Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,
The worldling's eyes shall gather dew,
Dreaming in throngful city ways
Of winter joys his boyhood knew;
And dear and early friends -- the few
Who yet remain -- shall pause to view
These Flemish pictures of old days;
Sit with me by the homestead hearth,
And stretch the hands of memory forth
To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze!
And thanks untraced to lips unknown
Shall greet me like the odors blown
From unseen meadows newly mown,
Or lilies floating in some pond,
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond;
The traveller owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air.
[All done; no lines to go. This thread may die. No replacement is required.]
EZMONEY
12-28-2009, 03:02 PM
Why don't we just ddddddddrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggg gggg this out BARGOO and RUTH.....
dutchgirl
12-28-2009, 03:49 PM
Bargoo, please put Bill's poem out of our misery and kill off this thread!
bargoo
12-28-2009, 04:27 PM
Not tonight I have a headache......Oh, scuse me were talking about Threadkiller, so here goes see you at Fantastic Fifteen.
Ruthxxx
12-28-2009, 05:06 PM
Dammit! I missed being here but dim sum in Ottawa was great!