Sun shines,
On Calderdale,
Happy runners smiling,
At the Shepherds Skyline race,
Quads hurt
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Sun shines,
On Calderdale,
Happy runners smiling,
At the Shepherds Skyline race,
Quads hurt
From the Guardian's saturday poem:
Hamlet
By Boris Pasternak, tranlsated by Ann Pasternak Slater
The murmurs ebb; onto the stage I enter.
I am trying, standing in the door,
To discover in the distant echoes
What the coming years may hold in store.
The nocturnal darkness with a thousand
Binoculars is focused onto me.
Take away this cup, O Abba, Father,
Everything is possible to thee.
I am fond of this thy stubborn project,
And to play my part I am content.
But another drama is in progress,
And, this once, O let me be exempt.
But the plan of action is determined,
And the end irrevocably sealed.
I am alone; all round me drowns in falsehood:
Life is not a walk across a field.
Eternal night.
A fragile shell splinters,
Memories spill out,
Crushed,dissipating,
Like a butterfly on a wheel,
His soul leaves him,
One final rush of life,
All is quiet.
By Leonidas.
Top of the morning to ya! been a while since i have been up this early for a run so here goes...
IT IS TIME TO TIDY UP YOUR LIFE
It is time to tidy up your life!
Into your body has leaked this message.
No conscious actions, no broodings
Have brought the thought upon you.
It is time to take into account
What has gone and what has replaced it.
Living your life according to no plan
The decisions were numerous and
The ways to go were one.
You stand between trees this evening;
The cigarette in your cupped hand
Glows like a flower.
The drizzle falling seems
To wash away all ambition
There are scattered through your life
Too many dreams to entirely gather.
Through the soaked leaves, the soaked grass,
The earth-scents and distant noises
This one thought is re-occurring.:
It is time to take Into account what has gone,
To cherish and replace it.
You learnt early that celebrations
Do not last forever,
So what use now the sorrows that mount up ?
You must withdraw your love from that
Which would kill your love.
There is nothing flawless anywhere,
Nothing that has not the power to hurt.
As much as hate, tenderness is the weapon of one
Whose love is neither perfect nor complete.
- Brian Patten
Hadn't a clue what one of these was until I checked out this website:
/www.newman.ac.uk/students_websites/~h.k.shuthar/cinquain.htm
Given the formal shape of the poems, is there a festive theme emerging here? Think x-mas tree!
This thread is such an 'hedgucation'....:D
Good starter by the way DT - I like it
Taken from this weeks Private Eye
Ding dong bell.
Pussy's in the bin.
Who put her in?
Mrs Mary Bale.
What should happen to this woman?
She should be strung up,
Says the Daily Mail.
Foiled
Dinner for Two
It wasn't meant to be
So it's baked beans on toast for tea
Again
The Lesson
I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live.
Maya Angelou