CAMELOT FANTASIES

Welcome!

My Love

my love
thy hair is one kingdom
  the king whereof is darkness
thy forehead is a flight of flowers

thy head is a quick forest
  filled with sleeping birds
thy breasts are swarms of white bees
  upon the bough of thy body
thy body to me is April
in whose armpits is the approach of spring

thy thighs are white horses yoked to a chariot
  of kings
they are the striking of a good minstrel
between them is always a pleasant song

my love
thy head is a casket
  of the cool jewel of thy mind
the hair of thy head is one warrior
  innocent of defeat
thy hair upon thy shoulders is an army
  with victory and with trumpets

thy legs are the trees of dreaming
whose fruit is the very eatage of forgetfulness

thy lips are satraps in scarlet
  in whose kiss is the combinings of kings
thy wrists
are holy
  which are the keepers of the keys of thy blood
thy feet upon thy ankles are flowers in vases
  of silver

in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes

  thy eyes are the betrayal
of bells comprehended through incense

E.E. Cummings

Lady Gwen you can also create as many threads as you wish.

We have unlimited space.

We can show you how to create threads.

One Art



by Elizabeth Bishop



 The art of losing isn't hard to master;
 so many things seem filled with the intent
 to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

 Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
 of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
 The art of losing isn't hard to master.

 Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
 places, and names, and where it was you meant
 to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

 I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
 next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
 The art of losing isn't hard to master.

 I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
 some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
 I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
 I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
 the art of losing's not too hard to master
 though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

 Elizabeth Bishop wrote a small handful of truly great poems such as "One Art," "The Fish" and "The Armadillo," and can probably be considered a major poet as a result.

beautiful choices both.  What a lovely new thread!

Would love to learn how to make new threads.  I have another one in mind, that I would like to share with everyone.

very easy. and please create as many as you wish. you are Camelot family now.





when you click on this link:


http://www.camelotelitetennis.com/divine-metamorphoses-experience/




you will see near the top of the very first thread that you see at the top a button for "new topic".



click on "new topic".


then fill in the blanks: write the name of your topic.


and then in the box below, make your very first post and say whatever you need to say.


also after you have posted, you go back and look at your post and you see something you don't like or you want to change something,


click on your post.

and then in the right hand corner on the top of your box you will see options.

click on "modify".


and then you can change your post if you wish to in the box.


and then simply go to the bottom of the box on the right and look for "save" button.


click on it and your modified post will be posted.

William Wordsworth
(1770 - 1850)
To A Butterfly

I’ve watched you now a full half hour
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!—not frozen seas
More motionless!—and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister’s flowers:
Here rest your wings when they are weary,
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We’ll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

love this one.


I first read about him and his poetry in high school. it is great to be able to finally enjoy his poetry.


I did not understand much or enough in high school.