Today's poet

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Introduction to Poetry


I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Billy Collins

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Sweet!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by stevefoster

Agree Alf..............Hopefully they all have a birthday;)

Sorry, couldn't resist, in a playfull mood tonight.

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steve your avatar is quite striking!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

steve your avatar is quite striking!

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It's me when i was handsome:wink:

Long time ago!

Just One
Unknown


One song can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald spring.


One smile begins a friendship,
One handclasp lifts a soul.
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One word can frame the goal


One vote can change a nation,
One sunbeam lights a room
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.


One step must start each journey.
One word must start each prayer.
One hope will raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.


One voice can speak with wisdom,
One heart can know what's true,


One life can make a difference,
You see, it's up to you!

The Challenge
by Jim Rohn


Let others lead small lives,
But not you.
Let others argue over small things,
But not you.
Let others cry over small hurts,
But not you.
Let others leave their future
In someone else's hands,
But not you.

I really enjoyed the challenge poem steve...quite inspiring, might form a good mantra in the head of a (would be) marathon runner....

been reading the poet laureate's work "Rapture" , essential reading for an old romantic like me!


Rapture
Carol Ann Duffy

Thought of you all day, I think of you.
The birds sing in the shelter of a tree.
Above the prayer of rain, unacred blue,
Not paradise, goes nowhere endlessly.
How does it happen that our lives can drift
Far from our selves, while we stay trapped in time,
Queuing for death? It seems nothing will shift
The pattern of our days, alter the rhyme
We make with loss to assonance with bliss.
Then love comes, like a sudden flight of birds
From earth to heaven after rain. Your kiss,
Recalled, unstrings, like pearls, this chain of words.

Ok so i've been to a poetry night at my book club and i'm a little drunk; so you can have one of my truly favourite poems.....

Marke but this flea, and marke in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea, our two bloods mingled bee;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sinne, nor shame, nor losse of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoyes before it wooe,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than wee would doe.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where wee almost, yea more than maryed are,
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloysterd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill mee
Let not to that, selfe murder added bee,
And sacrilege, three sinnes in killing three.

Cruell and sodaine, hast thou since
Purpled thy naile, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty bee,
Except in that drop which it suckt from thee?
Yet thou triump'st, and saist that thou
Find'st not thy selfe, nor mee the weaker now;
'Tis true, then learne how false, feares bee;
Just so much honor, when thou yeeld'st to mee,
Will wast, as this flea's death tooke life from thee.


The Flea
John Donne

I mistakenly read an email that I thought said that Pam Ayres was coming to run a training session at the club next week. Turns out to be one Sam Ayres instead. But it got me thinking..... (With apologies to both Pam and Sam.)

I Wish I'd Looked After Me Knees

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me knees,
My left one it quite disagrees,
With the miles I’ve plodded,
I should have said “sod it!”
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me knees.

I wish I’d been rather more keen,
To cut back on my training regime,
But even when ill,
I’d be racing uphill,
My niggles, I could have foreseen.

When I think that my normal race plan,
Was to act like a bloody stunt man,
Up Fairfield, Scafell,
Even Wasdale as well,
Now I need a retirement plan!

My Mother, she told me no end,
”Take up bowls, that’s what I recommend,
But you sprint to the summit,
Then downwards you plummet,
Your madness I can’t comprehend."

If I'd known I was paving the way,
For my cartilage to fritter away,
It’s a no-brainer,
Most certainly saner,
To keep fit a more low-impact way.

So I sit in the old doctor’s chair,
And he sighs at me with great despair,
”What do you expect?
Of course they are wrecked,
Fell running is daft, I declare.”

So I’m here with my frozen green peas,
Clasped to my great swelling knees,
I’m finished, I’m reckonin’,
But the hills they are beckonin’,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me knees.

http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/...c-post-004.jpg

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

I mistakenly read an email that I thought said that Pam Ayres was coming to run a training session at the club next week. Turns out to be one Sam Ayres instead. But it got me thinking..... (With apologies to both Pam and Sam.)

I Wish I'd Looked After Me Knees

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me knees,
My left one it quite disagrees,
With the miles I’ve plodded,
I should have said “sod it!”
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me knees.

I wish I’d been rather more keen,
To cut back on my training regime,
But even when ill,
I’d be racing uphill,
My niggles, I could have foreseen.

When I think that my normal race plan,
Was to act like a bloody stunt man,
Up Fairfield, Scafell,
Even Wasdale as well,
Now I need a retirement plan!

My Mother, she told me no end,
”Take up bowls, that’s what I recommend,
But you sprint to the summit,
Then downwards you plummet,
Your madness I can’t comprehend."

If I'd known I was paving the way,
For my cartilage to fritter away,
It’s a no-brainer,
Most certainly saner,
To keep fit a more low-impact way.

So I sit in the old doctor’s chair,
And he sighs at me with great despair,
”What do you expect?
Of course they are wrecked,
Fell running is daft, I declare.”

So I’m here with my frozen green peas,
Clasped to my great swelling knees,
I’m finished, I’m reckonin’,
But the hills they are beckonin’,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me knees.

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Excellent that Harry :thumbup: though a bit close to home.