Today's poet

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

snae

infinite tiny muffling drums
descend to obscure
the pedestrian in
ever(y)
sense
and transport us
into inchoate crunches
of softness.

---

Eeeee I like that lass. Mmmmm....about time I put my thinking hat on too - and not just to keep the snow off my bonce.:)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

Nice one Freckle, I really like the bit about 'obscuring the pedestrian', says it all! I love snow but am not relishing the thought of marshalling the ten mile road race for my club today...must look out my woollie undies!

---

Yeap, it's buffalo supporters time...!!!!

http://www.needlesports.com/Catalogu...orters-BUF-SUP
:w00t:

Ha ha...there was no picture though...very disappointing. The race was cancelled due to the icy roads! I'm happy cos I gained a Sunday and had a beautiful long run through the woods and hills just as the snow started to fall again. I didn't need any dodgy, furry undies either ;-)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Yeap, it's buffalo supporters time...!!!!

http://www.needlesports.com/Catalogu...orters-BUF-SUP
:w00t:

---

how still are the trees
as the river murmers by
and the soft snow falls

I really ike MacCaig's poems. Especially the ones written about birds. He would have been a hundred this year had he lived and there has been some programmes about him on the radio. I'm currently reading a book by Andrew Grieg about a fishing trip to Assynt inspired by MacCaig.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Sunbeam Alpine

This is The Shore Road by Norman MacCaig - just noticed the poem about the Border Collie. He's a good writer for the out doors.

The Shore Road by Norman MacCaig

The sea pursued
Its beastlike amours, rolling in its sweat
And beautiful under the moon; and a leaf was
A lively architecture in the light.
The space between
Was full, to splitting point, of presences
So oilily adjustable a walking man
Pushed through and trailed behind no turbulence.
The walking man
With octaves in his guts was quartertone
In octaves of octaves that climbed up and down
Beyond his hearing, to back parts of the moon.
As though things were
Perpetual chronologies of themselves,
He sounded his small history, to make complete
The interval of leaves and rutting waves.
Or so he thought,
And heard his hard shoes scrunching in the grit,
Smelt salt and iodine in the wind and knew
The door was near, the supper, the small lamplight.

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

not having much luck so far Alf! but look you can purchase a copy of one of his books here for a mere £100!!!!

---

Thanks anyway freckle. I was hoping it might be in one his collections but I can't find a poem listing in them to check. By the way did you know he was a tutor of Keith Douglas at Oxford ?

Concert party: Busseboom is a stunning poem :cool:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

how still are the trees
as the river murmers by
and the soft snow falls

---

Smashing poem that Hes though we don't have any snow here so I am relying on memory :D

flickering snowflakes
gather heavily on trees
deadening all sounds

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Yeap, it's buffalo supporters time...!!!!

http://www.needlesports.com/Catalogu...orters-BUF-SUP
:w00t:

---

I've never actually seen the legendary "supporters" but I bet they are bloody warm. I've only once ever had to put an extra layer over the top of my Buffalo shirt, and the salopettes were just too toasty for any conditions. I must have a peek next time I'm in Keswick!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

I've never actually seen the legendary "supporters" but I bet they are bloody warm. I've only once ever had to put an extra layer over the top of my Buffalo shirt, and the salopettes were just too toasty for any conditions. I must have a peek next time I'm in Keswick!

---

I've got a pair of Buffalo mitts, but it very rarely cold enough to wear them!