Today's poet

Old Man Thinking

Oars, held still, drop
on black water
tiny roulades
of waterdrops.
With their sprinkling
they people
a big silence.
You who are long gone
my thoughts of you are like that:
a delicate, clear population
in the big silence
where I rest my oars and
my boat
hushes ashore.

Norman MacCaig

Very evocative NB...just mist and fog for me this morning!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Nee Bother

Beyond golden sands
distant hues growing brighter
the morning sun rise

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Another moving choice. I think you never stop missing them, no matter how many years pass, you just are more aware of it at certain times than others. Sending you a virtual hug for Friday.

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Thanks Hes, much appreciated.
Nice choice.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Old Man Thinking

Oars, held still, drop
on black water
tiny roulades
of waterdrops.
With their sprinkling
they people
a big silence.
You who are long gone
my thoughts of you are like that:
a delicate, clear population
in the big silence
where I rest my oars and
my boat
hushes ashore.

Norman MacCaig

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Ooohh I love the latest Elbow album. I have to say that I don't agree that songs can't be poetry (I think our man Simon Armitage said that in the weekend guardian but maybe he was misquoted!).

The Birds

The birds are the keepers of our secret
As they saw us where we lay
In the deepest grass of springtime
In a reckless guilty haze

And they wove a sweet indifference
And it settled on our skin
Till the eyes that I remembered
For the last time drew me in

The birds
though I wore your glacial patience
To a smudge of bitter dust
On the last day you embraced me
With a glistening sapling trust

Did they sing a million blessings
As they watched us slowly part?
Do they keep those final kisses
In their tiny racing hearts

What are we gonna do with you?
Same tale every time
What are we gonna do with you?
Come on inside

Looking back is for the birds.

Some great choices from Steve and Hes and very poignant as well :cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Ooohh I love the latest Elbow album. I have to say that I don't agree that songs can't be poetry (I think our man Simon Armitage said that in the weekend guardian but maybe he was misquoted!).

The Birds

The birds are the keepers of our secret
As they saw us where we lay
In the deepest grass of springtime
In a reckless guilty haze

And they wove a sweet indifference
And it settled on our skin
Till the eyes that I remembered
For the last time drew me in

The birds
though I wore your glacial patience
To a smudge of bitter dust
On the last day you embraced me
With a glistening sapling trust

Did they sing a million blessings
As they watched us slowly part?
Do they keep those final kisses
In their tiny racing hearts

What are we gonna do with you?
Same tale every time
What are we gonna do with you?
Come on inside

Looking back is for the birds.

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I think Elbow were on the Culture Show a couple of weeks ago Hes, did you catch them talking about their new album?

From The Skylark by Shelley (sort of a thought for today :D )


"We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."

Gorgeous and so true...

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

From The Skylark by Shelley (sort of a thought for today :D )


"We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought."

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Thanks for the tip-off Alf, I don't have a tv but I will check on Iplayer and see if its on there still. I saw a great cuture show years back at my sister's place which showed them recording Seldom Seen Kid with an orchestra.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

I think Elbow were on the Culture Show a couple of weeks ago Hes, did you catch them talking about their new album?

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That's lovely Hes.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Old Man Thinking

Oars, held still, drop
on black water
tiny roulades
of waterdrops.
With their sprinkling
they people
a big silence.
You who are long gone
my thoughts of you are like that:
a delicate, clear population
in the big silence
where I rest my oars and
my boat
hushes ashore.

Norman MacCaig

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