~SpAnIsH~?
Written by rob on March 27th, 2010 with 6 comments.
Read more articles on 2552.
Funeral – English
“Funeral” is a new TV commerical launched by the Ministry of Community Development, Youth and Sports (MCYS) which looks at relationships in a different light, through a woman at her husband’s funeral. Ultimately, the TVC celebrates the beautiful imperfections that make a relationship perfect. This is fresh off MCYS latest Viewers’ Choice 2008 win for last year’s Family TVC which promotes the importance and value of family bonding.
http://www.facebook.com/beautifullyimperfect
http://www.thinkfamily.sg/
http://www.mcys.gov.sg/
http://yasminthefilmmaker.blogspot.com/
Duration : 0:3:2
Written by rob on January 30th, 2010 with 7 comments.
Read more articles on imperfect.
BY LOVE BEGUILED, In Mood Subjunctive
**NEED SUBSCRIPTIONS, Rate, Comment, PLEASE ** WORDS & LINKS HERE: From an original poetic entry in his collected verse and prose, entitled, A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Stanley Pacion recites a poem which describes how love has so overwhelmed him that he must employ a grammar, the subjunctive mood to convince his loved one that he has not taken leave of reason.
http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage contains words/text for all poems, plus other images and poems. “When a child I played, entertained myself with crystal sets, later I became a ham radio operator. The fact that I now have an audience of several thousands and growing, that this audience has become increasingly world-wide, and that it hears and sees me while I read my lyric and prose is nothing short of astounding. I love my YouTube!” For this POEM ….Original BLOG LISTING January 15, 2009
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/search?q=BY+LOVE+BEGUILED%2C+In+Mood%2C+Subjunctive
Or Use BLOG SEARCH (upper left corner) to Locate:
BY LOVE BEGUILED,
In Mood, Subjunctive
Don’t get me wrong.
Should I appear distracted,
Look knocked out by the light.
You make a very strong performance,
A singularity round whose axis my mind spins.
I remember once, years ago,
When I landed in New York,
After living a year and half in Europe,
How the neon of America
Seemed so awesomely garish, and bright.
Yet, when I close my eyes and picture it,
All seems pale before the radiance of your face.
Two people may meet for morning breakfast,
Look out the café’s window at the steady rain,
Walk here and there along avenues of
Inviting store fronts, and before the day is over
Fall into hopeless passion one for the other,
As though there be something in the air,
Perhaps some electromagnetic charge.
So the occasional electricity might overwhelm us.
Or cupid steals behind fixtures of thoroughfares.
(That day I spied him crouched near a mailbox,
When we began to walk main street in Point Pleasant!)
The winged child pulls from his quiver arrows.
They drip wet with potion. Once he aims
And shoots them, grievously they tear mortal flesh
Making for a ruckus extraordinaire
And expectations suddenly become great.
This romance presses hard upon me;
Its a love I am compelled to profess.
To gain your confidence,
To prove my mind has not lost capacity to reason,
I couch my verse in mood, subjunctive,
A grammar I use hoping to temper
My over-wrought affection and quiet,
Soften the immodest and elevated parlance.
Were I not to employ this principle of language,
One might believe that my love for you be shameless.
The mood may also provide proper relief,
For the all, too far-out attitude, the conceit
Whose command animates my senses,
That I have come to possess,
Been granted a gift of prophetic mantle
By some great and holy higher power.
Understand. I solely express my own wish and desire,
All I say remains contingent,
Of a mind still hypothetical and dependent.
I do not use the imperative, I make no demand.
I have no special outcome in mind.
I live in the fortress called Zion,
And come from it in the Pilgrims’ coat and hat.
I look in the mirror and see their collar and tie.
And, like those passengers on board the Mayflower,
I know the Lord to be my helper. I fear not.
Who among your former friends has ever said it better?
And were you to live long and hearty life,
As all actuaries predict,
What future friend might ever say it better?
And should you for a moment consider,
This lyric arrive, transcending everyday concerns,
That it join, Sentiment Supreme, Him, the real pilot,
When we drove in the white, Ford van and crossed
Jersey’s North shore highways, while the brown,
Oh that magic, gentle, dream-like, living, pale, ethereal,
And somewhat golden light accented the downpours,
Whose constant unleashed falling, seemed more
Like the storm the Lord had promised Noah,
Than any explicable, temporary weather.
Wie es eigentlich gewesen war.
‘The carriage held but just us — and immortality.’
And since we first drove around together,
Though it is months ago,
It feels shorter than the day,
I first surmised the engine’s mounts
Were tied to point, and we, too, were belted,
Hurled straight ahead in covenant with eternity.
Duration : 0:4:34
Written by rob on December 9th, 2009 with 11 comments.
Read more articles on subjunctive.
MOOD SUBJUNCTIVE
**NEED SUBSCRIPTIONS, Thanks** Rate, Comment, PLEASE ** WORDS & LINKS HERE: From a original poetic entry in his book of collected prose and verse, entitled, A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Stanley Pacion reads a love poem which couches desire and love in the subjunctive, a mood defined by wish for that which has not attained reality. He then takes every day experience of a first date and dresses it as something destined and immortal.
http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage
For this poem ……….
Original BLOG LISTING 27 March 2008.
Or Use the on BLOG SEARCH (upper left corner) to Locate:
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/search?q=MOOD+SUBJUNCTIVE
MOOD SUBJUNCTIVE
Don’t get me wrong.
Should I appear distracted,
Look knocked out by the light.
You make a very strong performance,
A singularity round whose axis my mind spins.
I remember once, years ago,
When I landed in New York,
After living a year and half in Europe,
How the neon of America
Seemed so awesomely garish, and bright.
Yet, when I close my eyes and picture it.
All seems pale before the radiance of your face.
Two people may meet for morning breakfast,
Look out the café’s window at the steady rain,
Walk here and there along avenues of
Inviting store fronts, and before the day is over
Fall into hopeless passion one for the other,
As though there be something in the air,
Perhaps some electromagnetic charge.
So the occasional electricity might overwhelm us.
Or cupid steals behind fixtures of thoroughfares.
(That day I spied him crouched near a mailbox,
When we began to walk main street in Point Pleasant!)
The winged child pulls from his quiver arrows,
Which are dripping wet with potion, and once he aims
And shots them, grievously they tear
The mortal flesh and make for a ruckus extraordinaire
And expectations suddenly become great.
This romance now so hard upon me,
This love I must ardently profess is, if you please,
Best couched, subjunctive, a mood, which allows
Vantage to range of my regard,
And proper pose for feelings, a sensibility
I proffer to proclaim profound and true.
I solely express my own wishes and desires,
And do not willfully command.
I have no special outcome in mind.
I live in the fortress called Zion,
And come from it in the Pilgrims’ coat and hat.
I look in the mirror and see their collar and tie.
And, like those passengers on board the Mayflower,
I know the Lord to be my helper. I fear not.
Who among your former friends has ever said it better?
And were you to live long and hearty life,
As all actuaries predict,
What future friend might ever say it better?
And should you for a moment consider,
This lyric comes, transcending everyday concerns,
That it joins, Sentiment Supreme, Him, the real pilot,
When we drove in the white, Ford van and crossed
Jersey’s North shore highways, while the brown,
Oh that magic, gentle, dream-like, living, pale, ethereal,
And somewhat golden, light accented the downpours,
Whose constant unleashed falling, seemed more
Like the storm the Lord had promised Noah,
Than any explicable, temporary weather.
Wie es eigentlich gewesen war.
‘The carriage held but just us — and immortality.’
And since we first drove around together,
Though it is months ago,
It feels shorter than the day,
I first surmised the engine’s mounts
Were tied to point, and we, too, were belted,
Hurled straight ahead in covenant with eternity.
Duration : 0:5:10
Written by rob on December 1st, 2009 with 4 comments.
Read more articles on subjunctive.
MOOD SUBJUNCTIVE, Edited
**NEED SUBSCRIPTIONS, Thanks**WORDS & LINKS HERE: From an entry in collected writings, entitled, A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Stanley Pacion reads a poem wherein he declares that love belongs to destiny, that it is a fated thing.
http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage contains words/text for all poems, plus other images and poems. “When a child I played, entertained myself with crystal sets, later I became a ham radio operator. The fact that I now have an audience of several thousands and growing, that this audience has become increasingly world-wide, and that it hears and sees me while I read my lyric and prose is nothing short of astounding. I love my YouTube!”
For this Poem…
Original BLOG LISTING 7 October 2008.
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/search?q=MOOD+SUBJUNCTIVE
Or Use BLOG SEARCH (upper left corner)to Locate:
MOOD SUBJUNCTIVE,
Edited
Don’t get me wrong.
Should I appear distracted,
Look knocked out by the light.
You make a very strong performance,
A singularity round whose axis my mind spins.
I remember once, years ago,
When I landed in New York,
After living a year and half in Europe,
How the neon of America
Seemed so awesomely garish, and bright.
Yet, when I close my eyes and picture it,
All seems pale before the radiance of your face.
Two people may meet for morning breakfast,
Look out the café’s window at the steady rain,
Walk here and there along avenues of
Inviting store fronts, and before the day is over
Fall into hopeless passion one for the other,
As though there be something in the air,
Perhaps some electromagnetic charge.
So the occasional electricity might overwhelm us.
Or cupid steals behind fixtures of thoroughfares.
(That day I spied him crouched near a mailbox,
When we began to walk main street in Point Pleasant!)
The winged child pulls from his quiver arrows.
They drip wet with potion. Once he aims
And shots them, grievously they tear mortal flesh
Making for a ruckus extraordinaire
And expectations suddenly become great.
This romance now so hard upon me,
This love I must ardently profess is, if you please,
Couched, subjunctive, a mood,
A posture of grammar I assume so to temper
My over-wrought affection and quiet
The immodest verse and elevated parlance,
It provides relief for my assuming prophetic mantle,
The all too far-out attitude, the conceit
Whose command animates this verse,
And were I not to employ this principle of language,
One might believe that I be shameless.
Understand. I solely express my own wish and desire,
All I say remains contingent,
Of a mind still hypothetical and dependent.
I do not use the imperative, I make no demand.
I have no special outcome in mind.
I live in the fortress called Zion,
And come from it in the Pilgrims’ coat and hat.
I look in the mirror and see their collar and tie.
And, like those passengers on board the Mayflower,
I know the Lord to be my helper. I fear not.
Who among your former friends has ever said it better?
And were you to live long and hearty life,
As all actuaries predict,
What future friend might ever say it better?
And should you for a moment consider,
This lyric arrive, transcending everyday concerns,
That it join, Sentiment Supreme, Him, the real pilot,
When we drove in the white, Ford van and crossed
Jersey’s North shore highways, while the brown,
Oh that magic, gentle, dream-like, living, pale, ethereal,
And somewhat golden light accented the downpours,
Whose constant unleashed falling, seemed more
Like the storm the Lord had promised Noah,
Than any explicable, temporary weather.
Wie es eigentlich gewesen war.
‘The carriage held but just us — and immortality.’
And since we first drove around together,
Though it is months ago,
It feels shorter than the day,
I first surmised the engine’s mounts
Were tied to point, and we, too, were belted,
Hurled straight ahead in covenant with eternity.
Duration : 0:5:41
Written by rob on October 12th, 2009 with no comments.
Read more articles on subjunctive.
Boyzone – Words
Back Again … No Matter What, the Greatest Hits is out 13th October.
Duration : 0:4:6
Written by rob on October 6th, 2009 with 25 comments.
Read more articles on words.
Boyzone – Words
Back Again … No Matter What, the Greatest Hits is out 13th October.
Duration : 0:4:6
Written by rob on October 6th, 2009 with 25 comments.
Read more articles on words.
F.R. DAVID – Words Don’t Come Easy -
Oldie’s from the 80’s
Duration : 0:3:23
Written by rob on September 24th, 2009 with 25 comments.
Read more articles on words.