Today's poet

O SOLITUDE! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,-
Nature’s observatory - whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

John Keats

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

You are not alone Mossy! There are a lot of very strong images in that poem, I found it compelling but disturbing. Had a very surreal drive back from an exhibition preview in a blizzard.

Journey

The road stretches ahead
darkness closing like a fist
and I am alone
but for the silent fall of snow

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I like that. Strangely perhaps, I read the last two lines almost as a positive. I like the idea anyway.

I wanted it to be read either way and so I'm glad that you thought it was positive. I find solitude has the ability to either make me feel strong, inspired and at peace or sad and wistful. I do take inifinite pleasure in moments such as being alone in a snowstorm and the night closing in is like a blanket enfolding you.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by L.F.F.

I like that. Strangely perhaps, I read the last two lines almost as a positive. I like the idea anyway.

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mossdog

Felltop

That final glance, locks the gardened haven,
As the key turns to our Autumn home;
Lakeland's ochre vista quietly stowed away,
Slipping, even now, into what 'had been'.

Images of playful spaces and crisp sheets,
Of glowing coals lighting love's smiles,
Now soar into the void of time;
Distant already as summer's swallows.

That brief world we conjured, a retrieved dream,
Of what we might have been, so long ago;
Reached from the kaleidoscope of life's choices,
Yet lost by circumstance, swaddled in regret.

And yet still, the world churns onwards,
Our conscientious moon, rises, zeniths, sets,
Even Autumn's colours must fade too,
Under the chilled layered still of Winter.

Does Felltop echo still with our joys?
Ghosts of smiles, hugs of long held longing
Of gentle love making, fill the corridor?
Or is tangible a mere fantasy of fable?

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I absolutely adore this Mossy, just plain gorgeous, thank you for sharing it with us...Hes I really liked your short piece too and I found your observations about solitude really helpful, I know that I often flit from tow positions of both craving solitude to feeling lonely but sometimes it can be blissful!

Alf that story about Clare is fascinating, why is it so many poets, artists and writers on are on the edge of so called "sanity", perhaps some might argue, becuase they see things as they really are without the positive biases of the "happy"!!!!

I miss this thread...not on enough but I am still in the process of sorting out ten years worth of accumulated junk in my house before the move...it is quite a reflective experience looking over old photos as well as taking in how many useless objects we have gathered which have been shoved in the loft and never used for about 6 or 7 years...it really makes me wonder about how materialistic I may have become unwittingly!...anyway, I am packing away the last of my poetry books but will keep Carol Duffy's near my bed til the last I think....i am using it as a baton between this world and the next....

this is just lovely....

December

The year dwindles and glows
to December's red jewel,
my birth month.

The sky blushes,
and lays its cheek
on the sparkling fields.

Then dusk swaddles the cattle,
their silhouttes
simple as faith.

These nights are gifts,
our hands unwrapping the darkness
to see what we have.

The train rushes, ecstatic,
to where you are,
my bright star.

The Winter's Spring

THE winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.

I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.

I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.

I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.

It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.

John Clare

Quote:

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Originally Posted by XRunner

The Winter's Spring

THE winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.

I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.

I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.

I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.

It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.



John Clare

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Great choice XRUNNER http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...ebit/Cool2.gif


I took this photo today while I was out running. In summer this is a nondescript, unpicturesque grass covered bridge over a discoloured brook but in winter it comes alive.

http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...it/icicles.jpg

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Great choice XRUNNER http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...ebit/Cool2.gif


I took this photo today while I was out running. In summer this is a nondescript, unpicturesque grass covered bridge over a discoloured brook but in winter it comes alive.

http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...it/icicles.jpg

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Wow!

P.s. Am liking the avatar :cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by XRunner

The Winter's Spring

THE winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.

I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.

I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.

I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.

It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.

John Clare

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lovely choice x runner, i like the notion of the winters garb of spring...

here is an old fave of mine....

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
Sonnet 29
William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee—and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Great choice XRUNNER http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...ebit/Cool2.gif


I took this photo today while I was out running. In summer this is a nondescript, unpicturesque grass covered bridge over a discoloured brook but in winter it comes alive.

http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...it/icicles.jpg

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stunning!