No worries Hes, sleep well;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Printable View
No worries Hes, sleep well;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
i too am cream crackered....night all fellpoets, sweet dreams...;)
Night all, bloody computer says it's infected, see you all soon;)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Has your PC caught a bit of a chill? Maybe you left the windows open for too long.Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
Good morning all....
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Shakespeare
Sonnet 18
He he, lots of nasty bugs around:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Iris Night
Robert Frost
One misty evening, one another's guide,
We two were groping down a Malvern side
The last wet fields and dripping hedges home.
There came a moment of confusing lights,
Such as according to belief in Rome
Were seen of old at Memphis on the heights
Before the fragments of a former sun
Could concentrate anew and rise as one.
Light was a paste of pigment in our eyes.
And then there was a moon and then a scene
So watery as to seem submarine;
In which we two stood saturated, drowned.
The clover-mingled rowan on the ground
Had taken all the water it could as dew,
And still the air was saturated too,
Its airy pressure turned to water weight.
Then a small rainbow like a trellis gate,
A very small moon-made prismatic bow,
Stood closely over us through which to go.
And then we were vouchsafed a miracle
That never yet to other two befell
And I alone of us have lived to tell.
A wonder! Bow and rainbow as it bent,
Instead of moving with us as we went
(To keep the pots of gold from being found),
It lifted from its dewy pediment
Its two mote-swimming many-colored ends
And gathered them together in a ring.
And we stood in it softly circled round
From all division time or foe can bring
In a relation of elected friends.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! –* An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . . . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
DULCE ET DECORUM EST, WILFRED OWEN
Don't know if we've had this before. My brother Michael did it for O-level English and has always loved it
I liked that Derby T...I really like a lot of the 1st world war poets .....don't think wer have had that one b4 so thanks :)
What luck to chance upon Freckle's poem and findQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
a precious image to soothe the mind
Having suffered the slings and arrows of the daily toil
It feet up now and watch the kettle boil
And drink in the evocative image and think
How pedestrian concerns disappear in a blink
When nature's secret treasures are presented in lovely verse
I can weather all life's problems, no matter how adverse.;)
Nice on Freckle, the Wage Slaves' Champion.:D
er...that's nice one, not nice on:o
When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light
by William Shakespeare (supposedly?:))
When thou shalt be dispos'd to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side, against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn.
With mine own weakness, being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted;
That thou in losing me shalt win much glory:
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right, myself will bear all wrong.
Absolutely love this and all that comes out of the haus of Ga-Ga really appeals to me and i like how Lady Ga-Ga is a creation like bowies ziggy and the whole image and world created around Lady Ga-ga also with the multimedia live experience it's great.
I can't believe what you said to me
Last night when we were alone
You threw your hands up
Baby you gave up, you gave up
I can't believe how you looked at me
With your James Dean glossy eyes
In your tight jeans with your long hair
And your cigarette stained lies
Could we fix you if you broke'
And is your punch line just a joke'
I'll never talk again
Oh boy you've left me Speechless
You've left me speechless, so speechless
I can't believe how you slurred at me
With your half wired broken jaw
You popped my heart seams
On my bubble dreams, bubble dreams
I can't believe how you looked at me
With your Johnnie Walker eyes
He's gonna get you and after he's through
There's gonna be no love left to rye
And I know that it's complicated
But I'm a loser in love
So baby raise a glass to mend
All the broken hearts
Of all my wrecked up friends
I'll never talk again
Oh boy you've left me speechless
You've left me speechless so speechless
I'll never love again,
Oh friend you've left me speechless
You've left me speechless, so speechless
Hooow'
Haaaa-oooo-wow'
H-ooow'
Wow
Haaaa-oooo-wow'
H-ooow'
Wow
And after all the drinks and bars that we've been to
Would you give it all up'
Could I give it all up for you'
And after all the boys and girls that we've been through
Would you give it all up'
Could you give it all up'
If I promise to you boy
That I'll never talk again
And I'll never love again
I'll never write a song
Won't even sing along
I'll never love again
So speechless
You left me speechless, so speechless
Why you so speechless, so speechless'
Will you ever talk again'
Oh boy, why you so speechless'
You've left me speechless
Some men may follow me
But you choose "death and company"
Why you so speechless' Oh oh oh
Great Stuff.
Evening Solace
THE human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.
But, there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.
And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back a faded dream;
Our own sharp grief and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie !
And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,
Seeking a life and world to come.
(Charlotte Bronte)
I find this poem really moving thank you for posting it X runner, i like the phrase "tender grief" and the imagery associated with "hours of lonely musing"...i think it also ends on a more optimistic note which is a nice touch.Quote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
Mossy.....this is so sweet and well written...i like it a lot!Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Bloody brilliant XR and you've inspired me to track down another of our Char's. Boy did those sisters (and bro) live emotionally supercharged lives up there in that old parsonage!Quote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
APOSTASY
by: Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855)
THIS last denial of my faith,
Thou, solemn Priest, hast heard;
And, though upon my bed of death,
I call not back a word.
Point not to thy Madonna, Priest,--
Thy sightless saint of stone;
She cannot, from this burning breast,
Wring one repentant moan.
Thou say'st, that when a sinless child,
I duly bent the knee,
And prayed to what in marble smiled
Cold, lifeless, mute, on me.
I did. But listen! Children spring
Full soon to riper youth;
And, for Love's vow and Wedlock's ring,
I sold my early truth.
'Twas not a grey, bare head, like thine,
Bent o'er me, when I said,
"That land and God and Faith are mine,
For which thy fathers bled."
I see thee not, my eyes are dim;
But well I hear thee say,
"O daughter cease to think of him
Who led thy soul astray.
"Between you lies both space and time;
Let leagues and years prevail
To turn thee from the path of crime,
Back to the Church's pale."
And, did I need that, thou shouldst tell
What mighty barriers rise
To part me from that dungeon-cell,
Where my loved Walter lies?
And, did I need that thou shouldst taunt
My dying hour at last,
By bidding this worn spirit pant
No more for what is past?
Priest--MUST I cease to think of him?
How hollow rings that word!
Can time, can tears, can distance dim
The memory of my lord?
I said before, I saw not thee,
Because, an hour agone,
Over my eyeballs, heavily,
The lids fell down like stone.
But still my spirit's inward sight
Beholds his image beam
As fixed, as clear, as burning bright,
As some red planet's gleam.
Talk not of thy Last Sacrament,
Tell not thy beads for me;
Both rite and prayer are vainly spent,
As dews upon the sea.
Speak not one word of Heaven above,
Rave not of Hell's alarms;
Give me but back my Walter's love,
Restore me to his arms!
Then will the bliss of Heaven be won;
Then will Hell shrink away,
As I have seen night's terrors shun
The conquering steps of day.
'Tis my religion thus to love,
My creed thus fixed to be;
Not Death shall shake, nor Priestcraft break
My rock-like constancy!
Now go; for at the door there waits
Another stranger guest;
He calls--I come--my pulse scarce beats,
My heart fails in my breast.
Again that voice--how far away,
How dreary sounds that tone!
And I, methinks, am gone astray
In trackless wastes and lone.
I fain would rest a little while:
Where can I find a stay,
Till dawn upon the hills shall smile,
And show some trodden way?
"I come! I come!" in haste she said,
"'Twas Walter's voice I heard!"
Then up she sprang--but fell back, dead,
His name her latest word.
Where were you when i needed you.
Your words cut through me,
A rusty blade hacking away,
Carved open butterfly free,
Hurt me not with what you say.
Literary war never ends,
Like prometheus on the rock,
Protected by a shield of friends,
But still my parents laugh and mock.
Character strong but cracks show,
Mosaic like viral feelings burst,
Tossed about to and fro,
Let them do their worst.
Free now like the air,
Running like the stream,
Unbowed i no longer care,
Let there words escape as dreams.
By Matthew Harmston
Love your poems Tri-Mind;)
Another shocker for this evening by Joanna Russ - well it is after the watershed, chocksaway!
from _The Female Man_
In my other incarnation I live out such a plethora
of conflict that you wouldn't think I'd survive,
would you, but I do; I wake up enraged, go to sleep
in numbed despair, face what I know perfectly well
is condescension and abstract contempt, get into
quarrels, shout, fret about people I don't even
know, live as if I were the only woman in the world
trying to buck it all, work like a pig, strew my
whole apartment with notes, articles, books, get
frowsy, don't care, become stridently contentious,
sometimes laugh and weep within five minutes
together out of pure frustration. It takes me two
hours to get to sleep and an hour to get up. I
dream at my desk. I dream all over the place. I'm
very badly dressed. But O how I relish my
victuals! And O how I ****!
Ooophs! :oThe FRA cyber censor has prudishly deleted the final word, but if I tell you that it referred to a franco-anglo clothes manufacturer called FCUK you'll know what she obviously intended. On that very point, censorship, do you think that we could argue that this particualrly thread should be granted a special dispensation from the cyber-censor filters given that it's all in the spirit of true art and nothing smutty like?
Tri you are really smokin'. Especially relate to that last verse.Quote:
Originally Posted by tri-mind
Come, the wind may never again
Blow as it now blows for us;
And the stars may never again shine as now they shine;
Long before October returns,
Seas of blood will have parted us;
And you must crush the love in your heart, and I the love
in mine!
An upbeat number from sister Emily ;)
er... DT? Were you being tongue-in-cheek about 'upbeat' or is that the closest Emily gets to it? Those last two lines in particualrly don't seem very upbeat to me:confused:Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Here is another wonderful poem by Charlotte Bronte
Speak of the North! A Lonely Moor
Speak of the North! A lonely moor
Silent and dark and tractless swells,
The waves of some wild streamlet pour
Hurriedly through its ferny dells.
Profoundly still the twilight air,
Lifeless the landscape; so we deem
Till like a phantom gliding near
A stag bends down to drink the stream.
And far away a mountain zone,
A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies,
And one star, large and soft and lone,
Silently lights the unclouded skies.
Very tongue in cheek Mossy :D Must have been a particularly stormy day up on Howarth Moor to inspire the Seas of blood line! :eek:
Bet those Brontes were fellrunners:DQuote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
Somebody mentioned tonight penned the following words*:
Quote:
How to Suppress Freckle’s Poems.
1) Deny that Freckle wrote it.
2) Show that her art is immodest, not actually art, or shouldn’t have been written about.
3) Male experiences are more valuable than female experiences.
4) Categorize her as a wife, mother, daughter, sister, or lover of a male poet.
5) Isolate her poems as singular, unique achievements.
Consider Currer Bell and Mossdog's shocker:confused:
*Freckle may not have been mentioned in her book.
Howgill fells huddle
Like slumbering Elephants
On a long cold night
Slumbering Elephants:cool:Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Good stuff HHH :) Was it Wainwright who likened the Howgills to slumbering efferlumps? :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
X runner i am really confused.Does this mean someone is either been nasty or funny or is it from some other other source that does not relate to our freckle.
That is what they are known as, and I'm sure he mentioned that in one of his books. It was beautiful but chilly heading round the Tebay race route tonight.Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Fast jet flies below.
I climb from Carlin Gill to
Cairn and cloud above.
Look here :eek: Anne was a happy lass too...Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
If This Be All
O God! if this indeed be all
That Life can show to me;
If on my aching brow may fall
No freshening dew from Thee, --
If with no brighter light than this
The lamp of hope may glow,
And I may only dream of bliss,
And wake to weary woe;
If friendship's solace must decay,
When other joys are gone,
And love must keep so far away,
While I go wandering on, --
Wandering and toiling without gain,
The slave of others' will,
With constant care, and frequent pain,
Despised, forgotten still;
Grieving to look on vice and sin,
Yet powerless to quell
The silent current from within,
The outward torrent's swell:
While all the good I would impart,
The feelings I would share,
Are driven backward to my heart,
And turned to wormwood, there;
If clouds must ever keep from sight
The glories of the Sun,
And I must suffer Winter's blight,
Ere Summer is begun;
If life must be so full of care,
Then call me soon to Thee;
Or give me strength enough to bear
My load of misery.
Acton
Anne Bronte
Perhaps she was so 'upbeat' because she wrote this poem while in Acton:D
“Always tell someone
Your planned route when you head out”
Stuff that! Risk freedom.
I bet it was HHH. We've still got deep, now icy, snow above 300m here in Teesdale, so it very hard to run at any pace at all.Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Motorway below
Full of aircon luxury
Icy blast chills me
That's just a brilliant haiku:D:D:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
It was mostly clear but some of the traverses in the gulleys were just snowy banks. Every foot fall sent snow down towards the stream below. Exciting!Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Aye, and leave the mobile at home so the wife can't bother you:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Speaking for myself;)