Today's poet

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Hey Mossy, I think we both enjoyed it :) Your Yomp recce with added plover interest sounds like my idea of fun. Thought I might have heard a Golden Plover up by Withins but it could have been Emily B's ghost ;) Hobble route has quite a bit of poetic interest as it also passes briefly through Heptonstall, where Sylvia Plath is buried. Blue skies, yes, but very little snow left now down here

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Hey up Mossy, i enjoyed the Hobble as well, feel like i've been trampled by a herd of Heffalumps this morning, but it'll be reet, the sun is shining.
23m/4352ft is not a meagre distance, good effort;)

dear old Merrylegs
trampled by Heffalump herd
smiling in sunshine

:):)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

dear old Merrylegs
trampled by Heffalump herd
smiling in sunshine

:):)

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Morning all...i loved this little haiku, sounds like you guys had a wonderful time...i have been really busy this weekend so haven't had much time to get on the thread but have enjoyed reading through all the posts from the past couple of days, some beautiful poems posted and written (herakles) and some daft ones too (i can't get that toon outta my head now thanks OW!)...anyhoo, when i woke this morning my mind was pondering over taking a road trip in the summer with the kids, visiting places of interest in the UK, I feel like there are a lot of places I (we) haven't seen and would like to, so any suggestions would be gratefully received...

anyhoo , i stumbled across this armitage poem which I found moving and identified with...


It Ain't What you do, it's what it does to you

I have not bummed across America
with only a dollar to spare, one pair
of busted Levi's and a bowie knife.
I have lived with thieves in Manchester.

I have not padded through the Taj Mahal,
barefoot, listening to the space between
each footfall picking up and putting down
its print against the marble effect floor. But I

skimmed flat stones across Black Moss on a day
so still I could hear each set of ripples
as they crossed. I felt each stones inertia
spend itself against the water; then sink.

I have not toyed with a parachute chord
while perched on the lip of a light-aircraft;
but I held the wobbly head of a boy
at the day centre, and stroked his fat hands.

And I get that the tightness in the throat
and the tiny cascading sensation
somewhere inside us are both part of that
sense of something else. That feeling, I mean.

Blowing bubbles

There has to be a space,
for those pangs of recognition to show,
to gently pinch the soul and illuminate,
the games we played.

There needs to be,
an opportunity to grieve,
there was laughter, there was joy,
it just didn’t last forever.

Now the illusory orb,
its beauty defined
by LACK of gravity,
by timelessness

This translucence
finally POPs,
disappearing
into the ether
of the future

The final game
of our childhood is over
but there remains a space
to be wounded,
to remember.


To be thankful
for the opportunity,
the innocence
and the joy
of blowing bubbles.

My God, this is good! :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Blowing bubbles

There has to be a space,
for those pangs of recognition to show,
to gently pinch the soul and illuminate,
the games we played.

There needs to be,
an opportunity to grieve,
there was laughter, there was joy,
it just didn’t last forever.

Now the illusory orb,
its beauty defined
by LACK of gravity,
by timelessness

This translucence
finally POPs,
disappearing
into the ether
of the future

The final game
of our childhood is over
but there remains a space
to be wounded,
to remember.


To be thankful
for the opportunity,
the innocence
and the joy
of blowing bubbles.

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

Blowing bubbles

There has to be a space,
for those pangs of recognition to show,
to gently pinch the soul and illuminate,
the games we played.

There needs to be,
an opportunity to grieve,
there was laughter, there was joy,
it just didn’t last forever.

Now the illusory orb,
its beauty defined
by LACK of gravity,
by timelessness

This translucence
finally POPs,
disappearing
into the ether
of the future

The final game
of our childhood is over
but there remains a space
to be wounded,
to remember.


To be thankful
for the opportunity,
the innocence
and the joy
of blowing bubbles.

---

Oh Freckle that very moving, sad and lovely, all in one - take care:)

Life Love

Life - an exercise in reluctance,
followed by regret?
Haunted by a longed for love
that I was forced to forget.

Now falling into dwindling time,
that solitary certainty left;
an urge to ignite a whirl of rage
but so, so short, on emotional breath.

Seizing tight to fragile dreams
of a life that still may be;
desperate to conjure quiet meaning
from the final tale of you and me.

Is this a Mossdog original? Its fantastic. Some great stuff this morning :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Life Love

Life - an exercise in reluctance,
followed by regret?
Haunted by a longed for love
that I was forced to forget.

Now falling into dwindling time,
that solitary certainty left;
an urge to ignite a whirl of rage
but so, so short, on emotional breath.

Seizing tight to fragile dreams
of a life that still may be;
desperate to conjure quiet meaning
from the final tale of you and me.

---

Just catching up with Freckles "Blowing Bubbles" :cool: and Mossy's "Life Love" :cool: both really excellent poems. Well done you two :D

Everybody wins.

Standing silent,
Listening to my breath,
A sudden noise,
Of i go legs like pistons,
Scrambling up the peak,
Lungs burning,
And then i'm there free,
Falling down the hill,
A human windmill,
Splashing through the bogs,
Only 100 metres to go,
I pass my rival,
Then fall over the line,
Finishing first,
I'm knackered,
I shake my rivals hand,
Waiting at he finish,
Cheering everyone home,
Knowing we are all winners,
So long as we have the fells to roam.

By Herakles

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Life Love

Life - an exercise in reluctance,
followed by regret?
Haunted by a longed for love
that I was forced to forget.

Now falling into dwindling time,
that solitary certainty left;
an urge to ignite a whirl of rage
but so, so short, on emotional breath.

Seizing tight to fragile dreams
of a life that still may be;
desperate to conjure quiet meaning
from the final tale of you and me.

---

This is stunning Mossy, I love the line "so, so short, on emotional breath", i know that feeling! you also convey a kind of reluctant longing beautifully...thank you for posting

and thanks for the kind words about my poem all, I is fine, just emoting! but nice to know others are so caring!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Herakles

Everybody wins.

Standing silent,
Listening to my breath,
A sudden noise,
Of i go legs like pistons,
Scrambling up the peak,
Lungs burning,
And then i'm there free,
Falling down the hill,
A human windmill,
Splashing through the bogs,
Only 100 metres to go,
I pass my rival,
Then fall over the line,
Finishing first,
I'm knackered,
I shake my rivals hand,
Waiting at he finish,
Cheering everyone home,
Knowing we are all winners,
So long as we have the fells to roam.

By Herakles

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lovely herakles agree with the sentiment:D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Just catching up with Freckles "Blowing Bubbles" :cool: and Mossy's "Life Love" :cool: both really excellent poems. Well done you two :D

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Thanks Alf :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Chubbs

Mothering Sunday already. Despite the commercialism argument, one for all those deserved folk.

The Pedestal
T'is only you that thinks your pedestal comes but once a year;
that look, in doting child's eyes knows, no one else is as dear.

Though its never said, your time and love has never been more cherished;
signs of wear, you do not share, when strained and often 'perished'.

As time goes on, your daughter; son; you feel they've had enough.
They may fly but do not cry, that pedestal you've not once stood off.

Chubbs.

---

lovely chubbs, one of yours?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Just catching up with Freckles "Blowing Bubbles" :cool: and Mossy's "Life Love" :cool: both really excellent poems. Well done you two :D

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Couldn't have put it better myself Alf. I've been blown away by the original material that has been posted here over the last day or so.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Chubbs

Good one Herakles.

Have been a bit of a stranger to the forum of late - life calls :o.

Can't believe the pace of this thread. Will take me ages to catch up, but with the quality of contributions I'am sure this will be a treat not a chore — thanks to all.

Quickly glancing through and I'd like to mention Herakles poem of thanks and also Hes your Haiku
really liked this.

Hes can I just mention how beautiful your prints are, I know this has been said before, one more time can't do any harm. A computer cannot do them justice; but even still they seem to lift out of the screen. I will endeavour to see an exhibition to see them in all their glory. Art is a passion of mine and you are truly both a visual and literal poet.

HHH thanks for introducing me to Hamlin Garland.

And not forgetting Boney M :D:D:D.

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I too have been a bit of a sranger to the forum of late but I read this and the recent poems posted and I feel totally moved. Thank you so much for your truly lovely comments about my artwork Chubbs, I do appreciate it very much and it just confirms to me that, despite being a little overworked at the moment, I am doing the right thing with my life. I also really enjoyed your two poems posted about running and mums. They are really great. There are so many talented people on this thread, it is such and inspirational place to visit!

River

Down by the river, under the trees, love waits for me
to walk from the journeying years of my time and arrive.
I part the leaves and they tods me a blessing of rain.

The river stirs and turns, consoling and fondling itself
with watery hands, its clear limbs parting and closing.
Grey as a secret, the heron bows its head on the bank.

I drop my past on the grass and open my arms, which ache
as though they held up this heavy sky, or had pressed
against window glass all night as my eyes sieved the stars;

open my mouth, wordless at last meeting love at last, dry
from travelling so long, shy of a prayer. You step from the shade,
and I feel love come to my arms and cover my mouth, feel

my soul swoop and ease itself into my skin, like a bird
threading a river. Then I can look love full in the face, see
who you are I have come this far to find, the love of my life.

Carol Ann Duffy from her book Rapture

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

River

Down by the river, under the trees, love waits for me
to walk from the journeying years of my time and arrive.
I part the leaves and they tods me a blessing of rain.

The river stirs and turns, consoling and fondling itself
with watery hands, its clear limbs parting and closing.
Grey as a secret, the heron bows its head on the bank.

I drop my past on the grass and open my arms, which ache
as though they held up this heavy sky, or had pressed
against window glass all night as my eyes sieved the stars;

open my mouth, wordless at last meeting love at last, dry
from travelling so long, shy of a prayer. You step from the shade,
and I feel love come to my arms and cover my mouth, feel

my soul swoop and ease itself into my skin, like a bird
threading a river. Then I can look love full in the face, see
who you are I have come this far to find, the love of my life.

Carol Ann Duffy from her book Rapture

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DT that's an amazing poem. Truly beautiful - many thanks for sharing it.:).

Kahlil Gibran on Love

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

DT and Mossy, two fab poems here, Duffy's very straight to the point (unusually i think, but brill) and Mossy I am not a religious person but took a great deal from that poem, particularly liked this line...

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

brilliant stuff!

Sat on the edge,
of a huge vista,
of a fresh start, a new beginning.
What we both wanted,
what we've both wished for

Sat on the edge,
of a dream,
it started off as a dream,
but now it closes ever nearer.
Dreams come true; if you dream hard enough

Sat on the edge,
of an exciting adventure,
so much to share, so much to do.
I'm thrilled for you; thrilled for us.
Who knows where this could lead? Who knows?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Sat on the edge,
of a huge vista,
of a fresh start, a new beginning.
What we both wanted,
what we've both wished for

Sat on the edge,
of a dream,
it started off as a dream,
but now it closes ever nearer.
Dreams come true; if you dream hard enough

Sat on the edge,
of an exciting adventure,
so much to share, so much to do.
I'm thrilled for you; thrilled for us.
Who knows where this could lead? Who knows?

---

Like that DT;)
One of your own?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by merrylegs

Like that DT;)
One of your own?

---

Thanks. Yes it is :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Sat on the edge,
of a huge vista,
of a fresh start, a new beginning.
What we both wanted,
what we've both wished for

Sat on the edge,
of a dream,
it started off as a dream,
but now it closes ever nearer.
Dreams come true; if you dream hard enough

Sat on the edge,
of an exciting adventure,
so much to share, so much to do.
I'm thrilled for you; thrilled for us.
Who knows where this could lead? Who knows?

---

Clearly very poignant verses DT. I hope the dream unfolds into that vista for you, when, if, you step from that edge.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Thanks. Yes it is :)

---

Bloody Marvellous then, dreams do come true if you dream hard enough:cool:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Sat on the edge,
of a huge vista,
of a fresh start, a new beginning.
What we both wanted,
what we've both wished for

Sat on the edge,
of a dream,
it started off as a dream,
but now it closes ever nearer.
Dreams come true; if you dream hard enough

Sat on the edge,
of an exciting adventure,
so much to share, so much to do.
I'm thrilled for you; thrilled for us.
Who knows where this could lead? Who knows?

---

This is so beautiful it made my night, wonderful stuff!

I feel really intimidated looking at the fellrunner article...well done guys some supreme poetry in there

Quote:

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Originally Posted by TurboTom

I feel really intimidated looking at the fellrunner article...well done guys some supreme poetry in there

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Absolutely no need, yours was class! keep writing turbo tom!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by TurboTom

I feel really intimidated looking at the fellrunner article...well done guys some supreme poetry in there

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One of the poems was yours Tom! ;)

Good to see you yesterday! :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

River

Down by the river, under the trees, love waits for me
to walk from the journeying years of my time and arrive.
I part the leaves and they tods me a blessing of rain.

The river stirs and turns, consoling and fondling itself
with watery hands, its clear limbs parting and closing.
Grey as a secret, the heron bows its head on the bank.

I drop my past on the grass and open my arms, which ache
as though they held up this heavy sky, or had pressed
against window glass all night as my eyes sieved the stars;

open my mouth, wordless at last meeting love at last, dry
from travelling so long, shy of a prayer. You step from the shade,
and I feel love come to my arms and cover my mouth, feel

my soul swoop and ease itself into my skin, like a bird
threading a river. Then I can look love full in the face, see
who you are I have come this far to find, the love of my life.

Carol Ann Duffy from her book Rapture

---

That is stunning. What a great choice DT. I think I am going to order the book, the other poems you've posted from it have been fabulous too.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Sat on the edge,
of a huge vista,
of a fresh start, a new beginning.
What we both wanted,
what we've both wished for

Sat on the edge,
of a dream,
it started off as a dream,
but now it closes ever nearer.
Dreams come true; if you dream hard enough

Sat on the edge,
of an exciting adventure,
so much to share, so much to do.
I'm thrilled for you; thrilled for us.
Who knows where this could lead? Who knows?

---

Brilliant DT! That has made me happy, you give hope to us single people out here. Wishing you a very exciting and fulfilling adventure.:)

Having read some amazing poetry over the last few days and some heartfelt, genuine ones about love...I found this and liked it.

These poems she said

These poems, these poems,
these poems, she said, are poems
with no love in them. These are the poems of a man
who would leave his wife and child because
they made noise in his study. These are the poems
of a man who would murder his mother to claim
the inheritance. These are the poems of a man
like Plato, she said, meaning something I did not
comprehend but which nevertheless
offended me. These are the poems of a man
who would rather sleep with himself than with women,
she said. These are the poems of a man
with eyes like a drawknife, with hands like a pickpocket's
hands, woven of water and logic
and hunger, with no strand of love in them. These
poems are as heartless as birdsong, as unmeant
as elm leaves, which if they love love only
the wide blue sky and the air and the idea
of elm leaves. Self-love is an ending, she said,
and not a beginning. Love means love
of the thing sung, not of the song or the singing.
These poems, she said. . . .
You are, he said,
beautiful.
That is not love, she said rightly.

Robert Bringhurst

Words, Wide Night

Somewhere, on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this

is what it is like or what it is like in words.

Carol Ann Duffy.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Words, Wide Night

Somewhere, on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this

is what it is like or what it is like in words.

Carol Ann Duffy.

---

aye, she sure is good....I like the last line very much, I think she is inferring that there are aspects of love which cannot be translated into words?...beautiful .....Hes liked your offering too :)

This room
Imtiaz Dharker

This room is breaking out
of itself, cracking through
its own walls
in search of space, light,
empty air.

The bed is lifting out of
its nightmares.
From dark corners, chairs
are rising up to crash through clouds.

This is the time and place
to be alive:
when the daily furniture of our lives
stirs, when the improbable arrives.
Pots and pans bang together
in celebration, clang
past the crowd of garlic, onions, spices,
fly by the ceiling fan.
No one is looking for the door.

In all this excitement
I'm wondering where
I've left my feet, and why

my hands are outside, clapping.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I stumbled across this lady's website, I think her poems and artwork are interesting

http://www.imtiazdharker.com/poems

That is one of my favourites Mossy. A good post.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Words, Wide Night

Somewhere, on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this

is what it is like or what it is like in words.

Carol Ann Duffy.

---

To his lost lover

Simon Armitage


Now they are no longer
any trouble to each other

he can turn things over, get down to that list
of things that never happened, all of the lost

unfinishable business.
For instance… for instance,

how he never clipped and kept her hair, or drew a hairbrush
through that style of hers, and never knew how not to blush

at the fall of her name in close company.
How they never slept like buried cutlery –

two spoons or forks cupped perfectly together,
or made the most of some heavy weather –

walked out into hard rain under sheet lightning,
or did the gears while the other was driving.

How he never raised his fingertips
to stop the segments of her lips

from breaking the news,
or tasted the fruit

or picked for himself the pear of her heart,
or lifted her hand to where his own heart

was a small, dark, terrified bird
in her grip. Where it hurt.

Or said the right thing,
or put it in writing.

And never fled the black mile back to his house
before midnight, or coaxed another button of her blouse,

the another,
or knew her

favourite colour,
her taste, her flavour,

and never ran a bath or held a towel for her,
or soft-soaped her, or whipped her hair

into an ice-cream cornet or a beehive
of lather, or acted out of turn, or misbehaved

when he might have, or worked a comb
where no comb had been, or walked back home

through a black mile hugging a punctured heart,
where it hurt, where it hurt, or helped her hand

to his butterfly heart
in its two blue halves.

And never almost cried,
and never once described

an attack of the heart,
or under a silk shirt

nursed in his hand her breast,
her left, like a tear of flesh

wept by the heart,
where it hurts,

or brushed with his thumb the nut of her nipple,
or drank intoxicating liquors from her navel.

Or christened the Pole Star in her name,
or shielded the mask of her face like a flame,

a pilot light,
or stayed the night,

or steered her back to that house of his,
or said “Don’t ask me how it is

I like you.
I just might do.”

How he never figured out a fireproof plan,
or unravelled her hand, as if her hand

were a solid ball
of silver foil

and discovered a lifeline hiding inside it,
and measured the trace of his own alongside it.

But said some things and never meant them –
sweet nothings anybody could have mentioned.

And left unsaid some things he should have spoken,
about the heart, where it hurt exactly, and how often.

Harry this is so beautiful, i love the line about sleeping like buried cutlery..........sigh :o permission for bottom lip to wobble?...i hope he reads this one out, do you reckon he will take requests?

A glint in the eye
rich brown, warm, deep, inviting
trust me touch me hold me
I am yours for the taking

A twitch at the corner of the mouth
deep pink, soft, open, inviting
trust me kiss me caress me
choose me I'm here for the awakening

A toss of the head
shiny, smooth, sleek, inviting
trust me love me keep me
For you my love is awaiting

A full on cheeky grin
eyes bright cheeks glowing
face lit up with love and understanding
You picked me for a happy ending

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Harry this is so beautiful, i love the line about sleeping like buried cutlery..........sigh :o permission for bottom lip to wobble?...i hope he reads this one out, do you reckon he will take requests?

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Good evening Freckle

Bottom lip wobble
for Simon Armitages
romantic cutlery

:o