4 weeks minus 1 day! :eek:Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Don't panic. The pain will be short lived! I just hope to have got at least some running in before the day. I'll be fine if I can ride my bike.
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4 weeks minus 1 day! :eek:Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Don't panic. The pain will be short lived! I just hope to have got at least some running in before the day. I'll be fine if I can ride my bike.
And it has 7 syllables so might just fit into a haiku well too. ;):)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Bradley Wiggins read a really good cycling poem during the track champs on Friday night, but I can't find it. I guess I'll have to go to iplayer and transcribe it.
'engender a good slapping' could be the middle line of an interesting haiku ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
I heard it myself and thought it was good. I had a quick look myself but had no luck. I hopw you find it.Quote:
Originally Posted by dominion
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Freckle are you doing the Anni Waltz? :)
You will be a little star of course...i have put in some canny training then this weekend got a bit of a bug, also the other night I woke with massive cramp in both calves, whats that all about?Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
freckle just wants to get around
whilst her fell poet friends run abound
sometimes its good to be
at the at rear of the pack ;)
a line of snecklifters at the bar
and a pat on the back!!!!!!!!!
so while you athletes are relaxing early doors
spare a thought for ol freckle
who will probably be stuck outr on those moors
a quivering, jibbering little elf
a shadow of her former self
all this for no medal or goodie bag
but for a more illustrious tag
that of
fellrunner? :o
Tyneside chatup line:Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
"Come slap me sweet and twenty"
Might be kind of fun?
apparently !!!!!!!!!?????!!!!!!!! eeeeeeeeek!.......please, please, please tell me you are doing it too ?Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode...10_25_03_2010/Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
59mins 15 seconds in.
That's great. Did you order a t-shirt for your goody bag? I went for the mug option.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I get cramp if I don't keep hydrated enough. But then I have to get up to go to the loo at night, so the choice is yours: Cramp or a full bladder disturbing your sleep.
I am, I am! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
You will love it man! :D
Are you going up just for the day or making a w'end of it?
I think we are going to try and go for the w'end. :cool:
Well found. Nice one.Quote:
Originally Posted by dominion
Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Aww harry, mines the T-shirt...I love getting T-shirts! I've been really disappointed lately that due to the economic downfall we don't get T-shirts at races anymore! My 2008 Three Peaks T-shirt is looking a bit tired now....devastating...I don't think it will last til 2011...so if anyone wants to donate their 2010 edition.....:D
Quote:
Originally Posted by dominion
Oooooooooooooooo Bradley ;).......and I thought I was a Lance gal.....
soz for lowering the tone
but bradley's shaggy crew cut
gets my vote!!!!
thanks for that tip Harry! i can't remember what i ordered now...minds a blank...MG so glad you are doing it too! :):D:) i am stopping friday night but won't get there till late as in edinburgh all day friday on a conference (bad timing) then have to get back sat night as my little girl's 4th birthday party is on the sunday but hey i hope to squeeze a snecklifter or two in before i collapse in a heap...fingers crossed !!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
A busy one for you then!Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I'm not that glad I am doing it now as I just can't get the hill training in :(......but I know I will love the atmosphere and the scenery....see you there unless you are doing Gisborough Moors :cool:
I'll try and remember to check that one out as like you i have done next to no hill training so could do with that...Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
i am off now, shattered, night all :)
Yes do...it's a lovely route...12.5 mile. :)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Night night, sleep tight x
Cycling by Eric Zillmer (I'm not sure of the last but one line)
arms hands bars knees
spinning blur
fast trees
heart bangs
tides sing
winds roar
gears ching
climbing grades
sweat drips
heavy legs
couple of sips
breathing deeper
suck the air
press the hill
pedals tear
feel no pain
feel no burn
still time to go another turn
mind is clear
thighs are tight
rolling speed
wheel flight
cycling
Night All
x
I'll see you there too. Just paid Dave for it today so I'm commited. Hope Freckle makes it too. A pre-anniversary waltz mini-poet meeting.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
We could be in danger of not having a poem today :eek:
So here is one :D
Strong Beer
“What do you think
The bravest drink
Under the sky?”
“Strong beer,” said I.
“There’s a place for everything,
Everything, anything,
There’s a place for everything
Where it ought to be:
For a chicken, the hen’s wing;
For poison, the bee’s sting;
For almond-blossom, Spring;
A beerhouse for me.”
“There’s a prize for every one
Every one, any one,
There’s a prize for every one,
Whoever he may be:
Crags for the mountaineer,
Flags for the Fusilier,
For English poets, beer!
Strong beer for me!”
“Tell us, now, how and when
We may find the bravest men?”
“A sure test, an easy test:
Those that drink beer are the best,
Brown beer strongly brewed,
English drink and English food.”
Oh, never choose as Gideon chose
By the cold well, but rather those
Who look on beer when it is brown,
Smack their lips and gulp it down.
Leave the lads who tamely drink
With Gideon by the water brink,
But search the benches of the Plough,
The Tun, the Sun, the Spotted Cow,
For jolly rascal lads who pray,
Pewter in hand, at close of day,
“Teach me to live that I may fear
The grave as little as my beer.”
Robert Graves
thank you alf.....i was thinking the very same thing!:eek: nice choiceQuote:
Originally Posted by Alf
Mr Ifonly
Brian patten
Mr Ifonly sat down and he sighed,
I could have done more if only I had tried
If only I had followed my true intent
If only I had done the things that I meant
If only I had done the things that I could
And not simply done the things that I should
If only a day had lasted a year
And I had not lived in constant fear
Mr Ifonly sat down and he cried:
I could really have lived if only I had tried!
Now life has past me by and its such a crime,
Said Mr Ifonly who had run out of time
True for so many people i suspect:(Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Whatever you dream you can do..............begin;)
Speak Of The North! A Lonely Moor
Speak of the North! A lonely moor
Silent and dark and tractless swells,
The waves of some wild streamlet pour
Hurriedly through its ferny dells.
Profoundly still the twilight air,
Lifeless the landscape; so we deem
Till like a phantom gliding near
A stag bends down to drink the stream.
And far away a mountain zone,
A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies,
And one star, large and soft and lone,
Silently lights the unclouded skies.
by Charlotte Bronte
Or better still, take a line for our Sylvia and just 'make' yourself centre of the Universe and all is well (er perhaps not all!).Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Soliloquy of the Solipsist
I?
I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins itself from under my feet;
When my eyes shut
These dreaming houses all snuff out;
Through a whim of mine
Over gables the moon's celestial onion
Hangs high.
I
Make houses shrink
And trees diminish
By going far; my look's leash
Dangles the puppet-people
Who, unaware how they dwindle,
Laugh, kiss, get drunk,
Nor guess that if I choose to blink
They die.
I
When in good humor,
Give grass its green
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun
With gold;
Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott any color and forbid any flower
To be.
I
Know you appear
Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it's quite clear
All you beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
From me.
The Echoing Green
The Sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing lounder around
To the bells' chearful sound,
While our sports shall be seen
On the Echoing Green.
Old John, with white hair,
Does laugh away care,
Sitting under the oak,
Among the old folk.
They laugh at our play,
And soon they all say:
``Such, such were the joys
When we all, girls & boys,
In our youth time were seen
On the Echoing Green.''
Till the little ones, weary,
No more can be merry;
The sun does descend,
And our sports have on end.
Round the laps of their mothers
Many sisters and brothers,
Like birds in their nest,
Are ready for rest,
And sports no more seen
On the darkening Green.
William Blake.
I think Billy had more in mind than just a sporty day in this metaphorfest ;)
This is lovely, what a beautiful simple poem...and I dream of the north constantly!
Quote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
Might I curl up with you
warmed and sheltered
like the new lamb tucked
against its mother ewe?
Might I join you in peaceful slumber
close by your side
snug like hand in glove
torseau to lumbar?
Might I wake up with you
refreshed and renewed
like the rising sun
bringing cheer to all that we do?
And might this just be
the perfect ending
and the perfect beginning
for anyone, not just you and me?
Good night, my dear,
I dream that the past has passed
and the new is beginning
and that beginning be drawing near
This is so sweet...lovely, keep dreaming of the north stef one day you will get there (just like one day somone somewhere might buy my house!!!!)...X runner I loved your poem and Mossdog the plath you put up....I am waking this morning to a continuing back niggle which i think might stop me from training for a bit (got it lifting a chair last week i think)....drat!....anyhoo have a nice day allQuote:
Originally Posted by Stef F
the ol ones are the best.....
Love after love
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Derek Walcott
The time before deathby Kabir
Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think... and think... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time
before death.
If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,
do you think
ghosts will do it after?
The idea that the soul will rejoin with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten--
that is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the
City of Death.
If you make love with the divine now, in the next
life you will have the face of satisfied desire.
So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!
Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for,
it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that
does all the work.
Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.
Should be working but logged in for a peep at some poems. Little time at the moment and mostly focus on the original stuff here. I love this Steph. Peaceful and dreamy, and hopeful. And you rhymed lumbar with slumber. Inspired!Quote:
Originally Posted by Stef F
Abit of classic style poetry there Stef
I've been writing a few recently here's a new one I don't want to over explin this one although you might not know what I am harping on about
I am a blob of gravy on a painting
by Ternce Cuneo. Hiding amongst
brushstroked darkness, besides the
thick impasto muzzle flash. A variation
in trajectory, would see me an inch into
that chrome orange and vermillion red,
brash as an evening fair in late August.
How i got here is a mystery, perhaps
projected through the air from a knife
of the regimental silver or flicked
in silent contempt from a saluting
middle finger. Not even the ellusive
mouse freely skipping across spilled
ammunition tins is aware of me, but why
should he be, I'm a dried raw umber skin
that once was a blob of gravy.
now this has intrigued me n dubya, i will be puzzling over your metaphor for quite some time, i thought it was interesting that you used the imagery of a painting by (i think) the famous painter of steam trains alongside some language associated with warfare/the army etc in a very subtle way...i am not sure what the connection is but it is interesting....i am wondering if it is actually quite dark which is why you would rather not elucidate....off to ponder a bit more....thank you for posting :)Quote:
Originally Posted by N-dubya
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I'm also liking the mystery in the verse...I almost don't want to know!
Hum...ponder ponder and google! Cuneo also painted military art....did the umber blob arrive during a ceremonial dinner? Is it hung in a famous dining room? If it is about a work of art I haven't been able to find it
Stef
Goodness Stef, you really are on a poetic roll - well done :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Stef F