Ha ha !
Little old ladies
are all a tingle
at the sight of Merry
oh so nimble!
:D
Printable View
Who called ML nimble?? :D
A bit of Tennyson :cool:
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls
The Eagle
Ayeeeeeee...i reckon wor Merry is nimble...so there !
Hows about this?
Wild Geese
Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Eeeeee well, this little freckle is tired and turning in...as the bard would say "sleep perchance to dream"..........na night one and all
Variation on the word sleep
Margaret Atwood
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
Margaret Atwood
Goodnight freckle :)
Sleep tight freckle;)
Body
What was so quiet a companion,
My dumb friend,
Now cries out, groans,
Swells with noxious fluid
Clamouring for attention.
Did I neglect you,
Taking for granted
The ease with which you walked, breathed,
Ran for a bus?
We that were one, are two
I bow before you.
Sasha Moorsom
Thanks for the introduction to Mary Oliver freckle :) This could be a first for me liking a poet who is not dead :(
I enjoyed the Tennyson extract as well DT :)
A bit of Robert Southey today:
How darkly o'er yon far-off mountain frowns
The gather'd tempest! from that lurid cloud
The deep-voiced thunders roll, aweful and loud
Tho' distant; while upon the misty downs
Fast falls in shadowy streaks the pelting rain.
I never saw so terrible a storm!
Perhaps some way-worn traveller in vain
Wraps his torn raiment round his shivering form
Cold even as Hope within him! I the while
Pause me in sadness tho' the sunbeams smile
Cheerily round me. Ah that thus my lot
Might be with Peace and Solitude assign'd,
Where I might from some little quiet cot,
Sigh for the crimes and miseries of mankind!
John Cooper Clarke, Burnley
I'll tell you now and I'll tell you firmly
I don't never want to go to Burnley
What they do there don't concern me
Why would anybody make the journey?
I'll tell you know and I'll tell you flatly
I don't never want to go to Gatley
I don't even want to go to Batley
Where is that place exactly?
Do I wanna to go to Redditch?
I wouldn't visit in a souped-up sheddish
what am I some kind of Nebbish?
No I don't want to go to Reddish
I'll tell you now and I'll tell you briefley
I don't never want to go to Keighley
I'll tell you now, just like I told Elsa Lanchester.....
I don't ever want to go to.....Cumbernauld!
five Wharfedale dippers
handsome and be-waistcoated
sing their songs of spring
:)
Well....they will all be out tonight, tables for two...overpriced hastily prepared meals and god awful red inflatable balloons and single stem roses...(I'm not bitter...honest!)......i'll post some romnatic poems in honour of tomorrow later but here's a bit of cynicism, Yeat's style to kick off with!.....
Never give all the heart
W.B. Yeats
NEVER give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
To passionate women if it seem
Certain, and they never dream
That it fades out from kiss to kiss;
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight.
O never give the heart outright,
For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.
As posted previously feeling pretty devoid of inspiration at the moment. Do you all mind if i just pop on the thread say hello etcetera until such time my creative juices return. Oh and i'm going to see An audience with The Chuckle Brothers in April.
As one of our most prolific poets, I think you deserve a break Herakles. Sit back and enjoy. Don't worry about your muse, it will return. Just go with the flow and tell yourself that you will not wrte anything for at least seven days. As soon as you take the pressure off, my bet is you'll suddenly find the words come flooding back.
Thanks everyone.
Unclaimed
To make love with a stranger is the best
There is no riddle and there is no test -
To lie and love, not aching to make sense
Of this night in the mesh of reference.
To touch, unclaimed by fear of imminent day
And understand, as only strangers may.
To feel the beat of foreign heart to heart
Preferring neither to prolong nor part.
To rest within the unknown arms and know
That this is all there is, that this is so.
Vikram Seth
I like that essentially in my opinion putting forward a paradox that love in fact makes the purity of the moment/experience more difficult to achieve due to the maze of entwined emotions/experiences you and your partner share. So love defaces purity. I know where the poet is coming from it is very hard to completely disentangle yourself from your joint emotions/experiences without much practice.
All whom I welcome leave without my leave
All whom I welcome leave without my leave,
Just as they come without my invitation
I am not their host so why do I grieve?
Respite from sickness is a mere reprieve,
Death remains the final registration.
All whom I welcome leave without my leave.
While graying hair and shades of old age cleave
To me, those I love abandon station.
I am not their host, so why do I grieve?
Because I wear my heart upon my sleeve,
I stumble, prey to Death's revelation:
All whom I welcome leave without my leave.
A spectator's role I cannot achieve;
My life explodes in participation.
Though I am not their host, must I still grieve?
I writhe in every net that Fate may weave.
Wisdom accepts my human condition.
All whom I welcome leave without my leave;
I am not their host, so why do I grieve?
Debjani Chatterjee
Hello all
I was able to see the Staffordshire hoard today AMAZING!
Quality craftsminship, I wonder what kind of apprenticeships people must have served.
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
William Blake
Been feeling a bit low myself today....looking forward to sleep x
The Day Is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet.
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Henry Longfellow
A really beautiful choice. I think you are in good company MG. I don't know your reasons for being low but there is a lot of lowness around right now! I have spent the evening on the phone consoling friends (and myself) and I have come to the conclusion that VDay may make us all feel like social lepers but actually, truly happy couples are not so numerous as we all think and single, great people are everywhere. I'm having a glass of wine (just the one mind) and am looking forward to my first fell race of 2010 tomorrow. The 14th will be about conquering hills and the start of a great running year hopefully.:)
Echoes and Memories
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory -
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
I've just had a strange day. Have not set foot out of the door and felt a bit under the weather which I think mainly stems from never getting a full night's sleep. I'm not really bothered about Valentine's Day...my hubby is working away.
This time of year always gets to me, Jan to March, it's so dull! I need to feel the sun on my face!
I should have been doing Castleton Beacon tomorrow but got no babysitter. I guess I feel a little trapped. Not getting out running much lately...my free spirit is lost! :(
I've got my little darling Yvie though and wouldn't change that for the world...she truly is a gem x
Lots of luck for your race tomorrow, hope you enjoy x
Good old Percy Bish. Odours are what gets me...they are amazing for taking you back in time...I got a whiff of some passing guy's aftershave the other day and was transported back to being sixteen and having a little canoodle with a Glaswegian whom I couldn't understand a word of but thought was immensely cool. It made me blush and chuckle!;)
canoodle...where does that word originate from? Inuit?