Nonna2
Nonna2

Nonna2 Profile

Nonna2 Profile


Nonna2

Location: Brisbane, Australia

Member Since: July 2008

Open for read requests: Yes

Profile Information

Hello,

My Booksie nom-de-plume is Nonna2

This is my second attempt as something went amiss with my first Nonna Booksie Page and I couldn't access it despite advice from "Booksie"

I am using the nom de plume Nonna2 as I am the grandmother of one of the younger members of this group. I've decided to join as I think that he feels that I cramp his style by using his membership page to make comments. As I am very busy with Family History research and my associated web pages and YAHOO Groups, I won't have time to contribute poems or stories, but I do enjoy reading the work of others.

While I admire the skill that so many show in crafting their work,  I am even more deeply touched by the depth of feeling and insight into life and its vagaries, that everyone reveals. I hope that even though I don't intend contributing my work,  that you will permit me to express my appreciation of yours, from time to time.

1. Painting: "La Nonna" by Gaetano Bellei (1857-1922)

2.Painting: "Tuscan La Nonna" - http://www.worthyfineart.comprintsindex.html

3.Painting: "Nonna Vittoria Polliceverde di rougeraven" by Vittoria Salate - http://www.flickr.com/photos/vittoriasalati/

4. "My Country" - Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Country

              

                      My Country

The love of field and coppice

Of green and shaded lanes,

Of ordered woods and gardens

Is running in your veins.

Strong love of grey-blue distance,

Brown streams and soft, dim skies

I know, but cannot share it,

My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,

A land of sweeping plains,

Of ragged mountain ranges,

Of drought and flooding rains.

I love her far horizons,

I love her jewel-sea,

Her beauty and her terror

The wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests,

All tragic to the moon,

The sapphire-misted mountains,

The hot gold hush of noon,

Green tangle of the brushes

Where lithe lianas coil,

And orchids deck the tree-tops,

And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!

Her pitiless blue sky,

When, sick at heart, around us

We see the cattle die

But then the grey clouds gather,

And we can bless again

The drumming of an army,

The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!

Land of the rainbow gold,

For flood and fire and famine

She pays us back threefold.

Over the thirsty paddocks,

Watch, after many days,

The filmy veil of greenness

That thickens as we gaze…

An opal-hearted country,

A wilful, lavish land

All you who have not loved her,

You will not understand

though Earth holds many splendours,

Wherever I may die,

 I know to what brown country

My homing thoughts will fly.

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