slowly dwindling
list of forum pseudonyms
as the night wears on
Printable View
slowly dwindling
list of forum pseudonyms
as the night wears on
It is and when we do eventually get to the end of the list...we'll start all over again. The Neruda Cycle. A thing of beauty, passion and intelligence with just a little sadness to keep things real.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Night! (honest)
I'll remember that!:)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
I really like this Merry, it made me think of the following Fleetwood Mac lyrics:.......Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
Written by Christine McVie.
If you wake up and don't want to smile,
If it takes just a little while,
Open your eyes and look at the day,
You'll see things in a different way.
Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Don't stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.
Why not think about times to come,
And not about the things that you've done,
If your life was bad to you,
Just think what tomorrow will do.
Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Don't stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.
All I want is to see you smile,
If it takes just a little while,
I know you don't believe that it's true,
I never meant any harm to you.
Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Don't stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.
Don't you look back,
Don't you look back.
Right defo na night now, na night!!!!
Love Fleetwood Mac, sweet 'Dreams' good people, i did a cover of 'Dreams' in my 'Corrs' jeans;)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Any video evidence? Would like to see that!;)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
Morning run
First mile
legs grumbling
stomach rumbling
body like lead
battle in head
last mile
feet are lighter
day is brighter
no longer weary
feeling cheery.
I don't think Yeats or Neruda will be trembling in their graves with professional envy but it is the best I can do!:o
That's always the way with a morning run Hes, just done one myself, nice little poem sums it all up;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Thankfully no video evidence:o
Whistling
A Whistle is good for the mood
It can give you a lift just like food
So the next time your flagging
And your shoulders are sagging
Try whistling a ditty that soothes
Inspired by seeing Joss Naylor when i did the Duddon Valley last year, he was heading down to Wrynose Pass with his dog, descending with youthful ease and whistling a tune, an uplifting moment:)
Good day to you all...
an inspiring poem anyone?
Touched by an angel
M.Angelou
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
Profound and touching ;):)
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
The Garden
J.Prevert
Thousands and thousands of years
Would not be enough
To tell of
That small second of eternity
When you held me
When I held you
One morning
In winter's light
In Montsouris Park
In Paris
On earth
This earth
That is a star
I really like that Merry and also the story, what a man! I have been known to sing on downhills when I think no-one can possibly hear me.Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
This is wonderful Freckle. Great choice although it makes me want to be in love...waiting...always waiting!! Yes...I know the best things in life are worth waiting for.:DQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Here's a Wendy Cope for you while you are waiting. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
http://www.bbc.co.uk/poetryseason/po...oody_men.shtml
Soar y Mynydd
By Beryl Davies
Dear little chapel on a hill
Where time for years has just stood still
White-washed architecture like many a farm
Which surrounded it long ago with their pretty charm.
There echoes of 'Cwm Rhondda' ring
And ancient hymns to 'Blaenwern' they sing.
An old dramatic preacher stands
Calling us to God with outstretched hands.
A kindly lady in a stylish hat
Cares for her ancestors' habitat.
And in the pulpit a beautiful chair
In memory of John who worshipped there.
Two brothers from a mile away
Come in their Sunday-best to pray.
The Tonic Sol-fa on the harmonium inviting
Packed pews of pilgrims to fervent rejoicing.
A bleating lamb comes to the door
Reminding us of why we're there once more.
There is no light once dusk comes round
And nothing to measure time on the wall is found -
In the dear little chapel on a hill
Where time for years has just stood still.
I believe that Soar Y Mynnd is adjacent to the legendary "Phone Box in the middle of nowhere" ??
Good old Wendy! She's brilliant, thanks HHH.:)Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
I like this Dominion. I've got friends who live on Lewis and areas there are like that, tiny community outposts in vast tracts of moorland. I wonder if they have any poems not in Gaelic that are about the same. I'll have a look.Quote:
Originally Posted by dominion
All You Who Sleep Tonight
All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right,
And emptiness above -
Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.
Vikram Seth
One for me and Hes by the sound of things ;)
Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life...
(Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...
(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!)
Always look on the right side of life..
http://www.cineobscure.com/wp-admin/...ages/Brian.jpg
So when you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle :D
Nice one Stolly. This is a favourite of mine too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWVshkVF0SY
Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And revolving at nine hundred miles an hour,
That's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun and you and me and all the stars that we can see
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at forty thousand miles an hour,
Of the galaxy we call the 'Milky Way'.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars.
It's a hundred thousand light years side to side.
It bulges in the middle, sixteen thousand light years thick,
But out by us, it's just three thousand light years wide.
We're thirty thousand light years from galactic central point.
We go 'round every two hundred million years,
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe.
The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding
In all of the directions it can whizz
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute, and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth,
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space,
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth.
Stolly I bloody well love that song and the film used to sing it a lot as a kid!!!!!
anyway i can't believe its Burns night and no fell poet has posted wor Rabbie!...lets put that right! if only i had a whiskey!.....
Let Loove Sparkle
Ithers seek they kenna what,
Features, carriage and a' that;
Gie me loove in her I court -
Loove to loove maks a' the sport.
Let loove sparkle in her e'e,
Let her lo'e nae man but me:
That's the tocher guid I prize,
There the luver's treasure lies.
translation...
Others seek they know not what,
Features, carriage and all that;
Give me love in her I court -
Love to love makes all the sport.
Let love sparkle in her eye,
Let her love no man but me:
That is the dowry good I prize,
There the lover's treasure lies.
Oi Poets! it's Burns Night!
Whiskies ready and offf we go.....
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
O, what panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,
An' weary Winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald.
To thole the Winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
now that's a coincidence, just as I was putting up what I thought was the 1st Rabbie of the night, I was pipped at the post!
Address to a Haggis.
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o need,
While thro your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.
His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!
Then, horn for horn, they stretch an strive:
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
The auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
'Bethankit' hums.
Is there that owre his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi perfect sconner,
Looks down wi sneering, scornfu view
On sic a dinner?
Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit:
Thro bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!
But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll make it whissle;
An legs an arms, an heads will sned,
Like taps o thrissle.
Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies:
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!
Aye!...always one step ahead of yer OW!...I think we could do with the translations could we not? i'll go back and edit me thinks! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
Brilliant!...i really wish I was eating haggis tonight and drinking whiskey...instead I am having to make do with nutella from the jar and a cup of tea ( oh dear i'll never makea decent fell runner at this rate!!!)....nice one X Runner!Quote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
One of my faves...reading this you can see why wor Rabbie sired 15 (:eek:) children!!!!!!
On a bank of flowers
On a bank of flowers, in a summer day,
For summer lightly drest,
The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,
With love and sleep opprest;
When Willie, wand'ring thro' the wood,
Who for her favour oft had sued;
He gaz'd, he wish'd
He fear'd, he blush'd,
And trembled where he stood.
Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,
Were seal'd in soft repose;
Her lip, still as she fragrant breath'd,
It richer dyed the rose;
The springing lilies, sweetly prest,
Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast;
He gaz'd, he wish'd,
He mear'd, he blush'd,
His bosom ill at rest.
Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,
Her tender limbs embrace;
Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace;
Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
He gaz'd, he wish'd,
He fear'd, he blush'd,
And sigh'd his very soul.
As flies the partridge from the brake,
On fear-inspired wings,
So Nelly, starting, half-awake,
Away affrighted springs;
But Willie follow'd-as he should,
He overtook her in the wood;
He vow'd, he pray'd,
He found the maid
Forgiving all, and good.
My Luve
O my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will luve thee still my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
No translation needed here I think:D
Cheers Stolly! That made my night. Isn't it one of the funniest films? and I love the song. Going to force myself to sing it when I'm next chewing on life's gristle.Quote:
Originally Posted by Stolly
Ahhh Burn's Night! Oh for a veggie haggis, neeps and tatties and a whisky or even just the whisky. Hummus and carrots with a mug of redbush don't really cut it.
A Toast to the Lassies...
http://images1.makefive.com/images/2...64f56cc91b.jpg
Women's Minds
Tho' women's minds , like winter winds,
May shift, and turn, an' a' that,
The noblest breast adores them maist,
A consequence I draw that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
And twice as meikle's a' that;
The bonie lass that I loe best
She'll be my ain for a' that.
Great love I bear to a' the fair ,
Their humble slave, an' a' that;
But lordly will, I hold it still
A mortal sin to thraw that.
But there is ane aboon the lave ,
Has wit, and sense, an' a' that;
A bonie lass, I like her best,
And wha a crime dare ca' that?
In rapture sweet this hour we meet,
Wi' mutual love an' a' that,
But for how lang the flie may stang ,
Let inclination law that.
Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft .
They've taen me in, an' a' that;
But clear your decks, and here's, "The Sex!"
I like the jads for a' that.
The Vegetarian Haggis
Whit’s this you’ve put upon ma plate?
It looks familiar, aw, but wait
A classic ye wid imitate
But whit’s within?
I fear it couldnae be sae great
It is a sin
Its measly size, its measly wecht
The contents I can hardly check
Still, its politic’lly correct
To serve the few
Wha feel that eatin’ meat’s no richt
Whit can ye do?
“Don’t eat meat it’s far too risky”
Says some wummin frae San Franciscae
Nae wunner she’s no actin’ frisky
It’s awfy sad
We’ll soon hae alcohol-free whisky
Or some new fad
It’s allergy this and intolerance that,
Diet, detox, low carb tat
You’ll soon jist hiv tae eat yer hat
Gie it a chew
It’s high in fibre and low in fat
An’ recycled too
Let’s not lose oor joy tae eat
Be it nuts, fruit, grains or meat
Oor time is short, we shouldnae greet
But mak the most
Of ev’ry meal however fleet
Let’s raise a toast
So in our world of greenhouse gasses
Service culture, kissing asses
Embrace our new food for the masses
Like onion bhajees.
Here’s to it now, please raise your glasses
The VEGGIE HAGGIS!
Bob House
[QUOTE=XRunner;299930][
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
[FONT=Times New Roman]
I really adore this line - must remember this as a handy insult:D
Some crackin stuff on here tonight, in the absence of whiskey I'm off to make hot milk and I wish you all a very goodnight!
:):D:)
Sheer bloody brilliant:D Thanks HesQuote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Nice one Hes! A poem for our times. Though I can imagine Rabbie hurtling through the mists of time towards you at this very moment wielding a bloody great claymore!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Gentlemen, please rise...
Together we stand, here in praise,
For the women around us and in our days,
Like Robert Burns, he once knew
That we love our lassies, though he had more than a few
When in our arms, they bring us untold pleasure
These are our lassies, for they are a true treasure,
We seek to marry them, it is said
For nothing more than to get them to ... bwed.
They feed our spirit, they feed our soul
For many of us, they fill our bowl.
They care for us, they keep us well
Though occasionally, they make it feel like ... hellaven.
They teach us manners, they teach us style,
For many of us, that takes quite a while.
They improve with age, while we do not
For that is clear, looking at you lot.
For the parcel of rogues, I see here tonight,
It is truly amazing, our lassies don't take flight,
For they put up with our habits, and we have all sorts,
Such as control of the remote and our preoccupation with sports.
For our lassies we would run sixty miles,
It must be because, of their feminine wiles.
Over heathery mountain and scroggy glen
We seek them out now and then.
But,
Tonight we stand, here in praise,
So join me lads, let your voices raise.
Prepare to toast, fill up your glasses,
Join me now, to our bonnie lassies.
To the Lassies !
(anon)
Hey OW! Think you were right about Rabbie...my computer crashed and its taken me ages to get back here!
well.....posting poems about veggie haggis on 25th January. Inviting trouble!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
and this reminds me....the Ben Nevis entries are out this week, and seeing as I didn't post mine today, I might have missed out again. Will do that tomorrow.
Any other poets up for 'the ben'?
Could be OW! Sounds good. Will check my diary and all being well, I'll get an application off. Hope you get in.Quote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet