Birdcrabs 4 Ever

Good morning, people. How was your yesterday? I hope you still have all of your limbs. I still have mine but I might have left my brain in bed...Probably did. My yesterday was great, my neighborhood had a great big party at the pool and a parade. I discovered that we are like a little town. It is the most incredible thing. I have never lived in a neighborhood quite like this one. I really dig it. Yesterday I was asked if I blog about how awesome I am. I was like no, but that is a great idea. I want to show you guys the art of the best face painter that I have ever met. She was at the neighborhood pool party yesterday. (There was also an incredible balloon artist and a good DJ) I would love to tell you her company name but I was far too excited to notice. She did a special request for me which I believe that any other face painter would have denied.

That, my friends, is my favorite mythical creature. (My own creation.) This woman painted an almost exact picture of what I described. She drew him better than I draw him. (You know what, here is my own Birdcrab that I drew a while back.)

 

That one is from Thanksgiving. I am considering writing like a theme poem for my little buddy. (I don't know how to write a song unfortunately. Maybe I will find someone to turn my poem into a song) Needless to say, this face painter has my eternal respect. Now, we shall read and discuss Shakespeare's Sonnet 3.

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest,

Now is the time that face should form another,

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,

Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

For where is she so fair whose uneared womb

Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

Or who is he so fond will be the tomb,

Of his self-love to stop posterity?

Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee

Calls back the lovely April of her prime,

So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,

Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.

But if thou live remembered not to be,

Die single and thine image dies with thee. 

Ah, this should be fun. Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest,/ Now is the time that face should form another,/Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Look in the mirror and tell your reflection that now it is time to have a child because if you don't create a bearer of your image,

Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother./For where is she so fair whose unreared womb/ Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? I think he is saying something like: You cheat the world (of your beauty) and leave a woman childless. What woman is not good enough for you? (Not too sure about the previous sentence. It is a guess.) Or who is he so fond will be the tomb,/ Of his self-love to stop posterity? Who is so selfish and vain that they would stop the reproduction of their beauty?

Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee/ Calls back the lovely April of her prime,/ So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, You are the bearer of your mother's image. In you the good looks of her youth live on. So when you are old you will see (assuming the addressee does have a son) 

Despite of wrinkles this golden time. Uh, you will look back on your younger years fondly when you see him.

But if thou live remembered not to be,/ Die single and thy image dies with thee. However, if you DON'T have a son, your beauty will die when you do.

Well, I need to eat breakfast and do school. I hope you guys enjoyed this. If you want me to post like your favorite poem or a persuasive essay on something or whatnot, let me know in the comments and I will see what I can do. Have a nice day. 😊