Immanation of Imagery

Immanation of Imagery

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Level 4

Since: Feb 13

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#1 Aug 16, 2013
Post something you've read or heard that struck an impressive imagine in your mind's eye.

For example:

This last stanza from the poem "Lapis Lazuli."

"...Every discolouration of the stone,
Every accidental crack or dent,
Seems a water-course or an avalanche,
Or lofty slope where it still snows
Though doubtless plum or cherry-branch
Sweetens the little half-way house
Those Chinamen climb towards, and I
Delight to imagine them seated there;
There, on the mountain and the sky,
On all the tragic scene they stare.
One asks for mournful melodies;
Accomplished fingers begin to play.
Their eyes mid many wrinkles, their eyes,
Their ancient, glittering eyes, are gay."

--William Butler Yeats

“So it's not you, It's them?”

Level 9

Since: Jun 11

Location hidden

#2 Aug 16, 2013
I've always thought the following created a distinct mental image:

"The Charge of the Light Brigade

Half a league, half a league,
  Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death,
  Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
  Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho'(though) the soldiers knew
  Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
  Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
  Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
  Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
  All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
  Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
  Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
  All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
  Noble six hundred!"

Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 1854
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

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#3 Aug 17, 2013
Chilli J wrote:
I've always thought the following created a distinct mental image:
"The Charge of the Light Brigade
Half a league, half a league,
  Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death,
  Rode the six hundred.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 1854
Wonderful! TY Chili, I hadn't read that one before by Tennyson. It reminded me of this one, perhaps you've read it already.
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say--
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side.
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast.
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say--
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good.
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood.
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#4 Aug 17, 2013
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood.
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew gray to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#5 Aug 17, 2013
I'm sorry it didn't post right.. let me try again.

The Highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say--

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#6 Aug 17, 2013
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side.
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast.
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say--
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good.
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood.
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood.
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew gray to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#7 Aug 17, 2013
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Sweetie-Pie

Miami, FL

#8 Aug 17, 2013
Post something you've read or heard that struck an impressive imagine in your mind's eye.

{FROM} CHAPTER ONE

Triumph of Justice
The Final Judgment on the Simpson Saga

By DANIEL PETROCELLI with PETER KNOBLER

The physical evidence was conclusive:

"Simpson's blood was dripped at the murder scene; a cap with hairs matching his was found next to Ron's and Nicole's dead bodies; one of Simpson's large leather gloves was lying between them; and the matching glove, still holding strands of the victims' hair and stained with their blood and Simpson's, was found outside his house. Size-twelve shoe prints, slightly pigeon-toed, were clearly stamped in the victims' blood, at the murder scene. Simpson is among the 9 percent of the population who wears size-twelve shoes, and he is pigeon-toed. Those shoe prints made an impression that was matched to one sole in the world--a Silga sole, manufactured at the Silga factory in Civitinova Marche, Italy, for the upscale shoemaker Bruno Magli. We had photographs of Simpson wearing Bruno Magli shoes with the identical sole. Simpson's white Ford Bronco, parked outside his house, contained not only Simpson's blood but Ron's and Nicole's, and a shoe impression consistent with the Bruno Magli stained the carpet on the driver's side. A trail of Simpson's blood was dripped up his driveway, into his house, and up to his bedroom and bathroom. Planting of that blood was out of the question--because, just like the blood at the murder scene, it was found long before police investigators had taken any blood from his arm. Simpson had cuts all over his hands the day after the murders but had no explanation for how he got them. His socks were lying on his bedroom floor, spattered with his blood and Nicole's. Blue black cotton fibers consistent with a dark sweatsuit were found at both the crime scene and in Simpson's home,, linking him to both locations. Rare carpet fibers of the type used in his Bronco were found at the murder scene. His blood, his cuts, his clothing, his gloves, his shoes, his car, his house, his ex-wife's blood, Ron Goldman's blood ... all pointed to O.J. Simpson--and to no one else."
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#9 Aug 17, 2013
Are you that Ferri guy?
Sweetie-Pie

Miami, FL

#10 Aug 17, 2013
...Most of all, I had to make it clear: You cannot kill two people and get away with it, no matter how much money you have, no matter how many lies you tell...."

Triumph of Justice

The Final Judgment on the Simpson Saga

By DANIEL PETROCELLI with PETER KNOBLER
Sweetie-Pie

Miami, FL

#11 Aug 17, 2013
EevyToxicLipstick wrote:
Are you that Ferri guy?
No

http://www.topix.com/member/profile/sweetie-p...
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#12 Aug 17, 2013
Sweetie-Pie wrote:
...Most of all, I had to make it clear: You cannot kill two people and get away with it, no matter how much money you have, no matter how many lies you tell...."
Triumph of Justice
The Final Judgment on the Simpson Saga
By DANIEL PETROCELLI with PETER KNOBLER
for you:

Lily of the Nile
Rozanne Gerwat
hydrangea
cobalt
Stevie's Wonder
Konstantin Dimopoulos crepe trees
SKY
BSG
lapis lazuli
second full moon
forget me nots
sapphires
antarctic
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#13 Aug 17, 2013
Sweetie-Pie wrote:
You just made that..
Sweetie-Pie

Miami, FL

#14 Aug 17, 2013
EevyToxicLipstick wrote:
<quoted text>
for you:
Lily of the Nile
Rozanne Gerwat
hydrangea
cobalt
Stevie's Wonder
Konstantin Dimopoulos crepe trees
SKY
BSG
lapis lazuli
second full moon
forget me nots
sapphires
antarctic
WTF is this?
Sweetie-Pie

Miami, FL

#15 Aug 17, 2013
EevyToxicLipstick wrote:
<quoted text>
You just made that..
Just made what?
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#16 Aug 17, 2013
Sweetie-Pie wrote:
<quoted text>
WTF is this?
A bit delayed but you read my mind.
That's exactly what I thought when you posted OJ.
:P
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#17 Aug 17, 2013
Did you have to post something so heinous? Contradicts the Sweet in pie just a tad.
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#18 Aug 17, 2013
Sweetie-Pie wrote:
<quoted text>
Just made what?
The profile..[whisper]whacha playin' dumb for girlie? Ain't no one watchin' ya.

“So it's not you, It's them?”

Level 9

Since: Jun 11

Location hidden

#19 Aug 17, 2013
EevyToxicLipstick wrote:
Did you have to post something so heinous? Contradicts the Sweet in pie just a tad.
The thread instructions were: "Post something you've read or heard that struck an impressive imagine (sic) in your mind's eye." How did the posted material not strike an image? Since this thread is your creation, you can let the posts flow, or you can critique and kibitz.
Level 4

Since: Feb 13

Location hidden

#20 Aug 17, 2013
Chilli J wrote:
<quoted text>
The thread instructions were: "Post something you've read or heard that struck an impressive imagine (sic) in your mind's eye." How did the posted material not strike an image? Since this thread is your creation, you can let the posts flow, or you can critique and kibitz.
She can go on all she likes Chilli. But just as she can express herself so can another. Just like you did just now.
Excellent and TY.

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