World Peace

[J'Pol]

Is it even possible if an African Nation has never won the Soccer World Cup.

[Lamsey]

I bloody well hope it is

[Skillian]

I think it's pretty unlikely regardless of any sporting occasions. Perhaps if Luxembourg win the figure skating it will happen.

[chalice]

I remember when Cameroon beat Argentina in the first game of the World Cup.
That was a welcome shock.
Milla rocked that year. Wanted them to go all the way.
Unrealistic, granted but it's good to hope.

[J'Pol]

Originally posted by chalice@1 August 2003 - 18:47
I remember when Cameroon beat Argentina in the first game of the World Cup.
That was a welcome shock.
Milla rocked that year. Wanted them to go all the way.
Unrealistic, granted but it's good to hope.

I too remember that, it was superb. Was that the one he did his wee jig at the corner flag.

Your Sig -

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
in the forest of the night,
what immortal hand ..... ?

[chalice]

Correct JP! What immortal hand or eye.
Yep, Milla's little bosa nova was one of the greats.

[J'Pol]

The Tiger
William Blake

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
When thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand forged thy dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dared its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile his work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

[chalice]

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
In England's pleasant pastures seen.
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth among these clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem built here
Amongst these dark satanic mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold.
Bring me my arrows of desire.
Bring me my spear, Oh clouds unfold.
Bring me my chariot of fire.

I will not cease in mental fight.
Nor shall my sword slip in my hand.
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

(please don't mistake this for a hymn)

[J'Pol]

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves:
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 't would win me
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.



No question Coleridge was on the apple that night.

[chalice]

LOL we're cooking with gas tonight JP.
Wordsworth was his dealer