Today's poet

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

The Guardian Country Diary?.....Ooooooooooo

this springs to mind.....;)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eS44KtUh22g

(only joking, i am pathologically shy in real life!!!!!!!......honest!)

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You are already a legend my dear. :)

Shy?! Never!

To borrow one of your expressions freckle, this is LUSH! :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Here's a nice poem by Mary Oliver called Sleeping in the Forest, I really like her stuff....

I thought the earth remembered me,
she took me back so tenderly,
arranging her dark skirts,
her pocketsfull of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before,
a stone on the river bed,
nothing between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths
among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms
breathing around me, the insects,
and the birds who do their work in the darkness.
All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom.

By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

To borrow one of your expressions freckle, this is LUSH! :)

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I think she is an awesome poet...i really like the "bone" poem in this link (it wouldn't let me cut and paste), especially the last section...just beautiful.

http://peacefulrivers.homestead.com/...l#anchor_16439

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

I think she is an awesome poet...i really like the "bone" poem in this link (it wouldn't let me cut and paste), especially the last section...just beautiful.

http://peacefulrivers.homestead.com/...l#anchor_16439

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Beautiful. I admire people so much who can conjour up imagery like that. I don't think my brain is quite wired the same way.

In our Tenth Year

This book, this page, this harebell laid to rest
Between these sheets, these leaves, if pressed still bleeds
a watercolour of the way we were.

Those years: the fuss of such and such a day,
that disagreement and its final word,
your inventory of names and dates and times,
my infantries of tall, dark, handsome lies.

A decade on, now we astound ourselves;
still two, still twinned but doubled now with love
and for a single night apart, alone,
how sure we are, each of the other half.

This harebell holds its own. Let's give it now
in air, with light, the chance to fade, to fold.
Here, take it from my hand. Now, let it go.

Simon Armitage

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Wharfedale little owl
diminutive diurnal
long time favourite!

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Loved this one DT :cool: :D

Patterns


I walk down the garden paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jewelled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden paths.

My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime-tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.

And the splashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden-paths.
The dripping never stops.
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
A basin in the midst of hedges grown
So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
But she guesses he is near,
And the sliding of the water
Seems the stroking of a dear
Hand upon her.
What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown!
I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.

I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.
I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles on his shoes.
I would choose
To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths,
A bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover,
Till he caught me in the shade,
And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me,
Aching, melting, unafraid.
With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops,
And the plopping of the waterdrops,
All about us in the open afternoon --
I am very like to swoon
With the weight of this brocade,
For the sun sifts through the shade.

Underneath the fallen blossom
In my bosom,
Is a letter I have hid.
It was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke.
"Madam, we regret to inform you that Lord Hartwell
Died in action Thursday se'nnight."
As I read it in the white, morning sunlight,
The letters squirmed like snakes.
"Any answer, Madam," said my footman.
"No," I told him.
"See that the messenger takes some refreshment.
No, no answer."
And I walked into the garden,
Up and down the patterned paths,
In my stiff, correct brocade.
The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun,
Each one.
I stood upright too,
Held rigid to the pattern
By the stiffness of my gown.
Up and down I walked,
Up and down.

In a month he would have been my husband.
In a month, here, underneath this lime,
We would have broke the pattern;
He for me, and I for him,
He as Colonel, I as Lady,
On this shady seat.
He had a whim
That sunlight carried blessing.
And I answered, "It shall be as you have said."
Now he is dead.

In Summer and in Winter I shall walk
Up and down
The patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
The squills and daffodils
Will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow.
I shall go
Up and down,
In my gown.
Gorgeously arrayed,
Boned and stayed.
And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace
By each button, hook, and lace.
For the man who should loose me is dead,
Fighting with the Duke in Flanders,
In a pattern called a war.
Christ! What are patterns for?

Amy Lowell

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Pandora’s Box

My ribs were a cage
for carrion crows
the blue-black scavengers
who, once trapped,
amused themselves by pecking
at the vestige of my heart.
Then unexpected, uninvited
there you were
and I lay down before you,
naked and shivering.
With trembling hands,
you cracked my chest
whilst I cowered and bled,
afraid of what you might find.
How bravely you caught them,
those fearsome birds,
And held each one close
whispering a charm,
a gentle spell,
to soothe ruffled feathers
and slow wilful minds.
One by one
you offered them
for my examination
before raising each to the sky.
You sent them away
on wild beating wings
and, as I watched,
I saw the mid-day sun
pierce their tattered feathers
and knew that what they left me
was hope.

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Well its been a busy day or two on this thread :D
This is a great little poem Hes beautifully constructed :cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

In our Tenth Year

This book, this page, this harebell laid to rest
Between these sheets, these leaves, if pressed still bleeds
a watercolour of the way we were.

Those years: the fuss of such and such a day,
that disagreement and its final word,
your inventory of names and dates and times,
my infantries of tall, dark, handsome lies.

A decade on, now we astound ourselves;
still two, still twinned but doubled now with love
and for a single night apart, alone,
how sure we are, each of the other half.

This harebell holds its own. Let's give it now
in air, with light, the chance to fade, to fold.
Here, take it from my hand. Now, let it go.

Simon Armitage

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This is so gorgeous alf thank you so much for posting it....sigh

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Patterns


I walk down the garden paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jewelled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden paths.

My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime-tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.

And the splashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden-paths.
The dripping never stops.
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
A basin in the midst of hedges grown
So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
But she guesses he is near,
And the sliding of the water
Seems the stroking of a dear
Hand upon her.
What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown!
I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.

I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.
I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles on his shoes.
I would choose
To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths,
A bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover,
Till he caught me in the shade,
And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me,
Aching, melting, unafraid.
With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops,
And the plopping of the waterdrops,
All about us in the open afternoon --
I am very like to swoon
With the weight of this brocade,
For the sun sifts through the shade.

Underneath the fallen blossom
In my bosom,
Is a letter I have hid.
It was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke.
"Madam, we regret to inform you that Lord Hartwell
Died in action Thursday se'nnight."
As I read it in the white, morning sunlight,
The letters squirmed like snakes.
"Any answer, Madam," said my footman.
"No," I told him.
"See that the messenger takes some refreshment.
No, no answer."
And I walked into the garden,
Up and down the patterned paths,
In my stiff, correct brocade.
The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun,
Each one.
I stood upright too,
Held rigid to the pattern
By the stiffness of my gown.
Up and down I walked,
Up and down.

In a month he would have been my husband.
In a month, here, underneath this lime,
We would have broke the pattern;
He for me, and I for him,
He as Colonel, I as Lady,
On this shady seat.
He had a whim
That sunlight carried blessing.
And I answered, "It shall be as you have said."
Now he is dead.

In Summer and in Winter I shall walk
Up and down
The patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
The squills and daffodils
Will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow.
I shall go
Up and down,
In my gown.
Gorgeously arrayed,
Boned and stayed.
And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace
By each button, hook, and lace.
For the man who should loose me is dead,
Fighting with the Duke in Flanders,
In a pattern called a war.
Christ! What are patterns for?

Amy Lowell

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Alf this is just brillliant, I really enjoyed reading this poem and was waiting with bated breath to see what would happen, fab stuff!

My goodness, its 8.35pm and nobody has posted on the poetry thread today. Looks like it will be down to me to get it started (before I disappear off to cook my tea).

Don't Let that Horse

Don't let that horse
eat that violin
cried Chagall's mother
But he
kept right on
painting
And became famous

And kept on painting
The Horse With the Violin in Mouth
And when he finally finished it
he jumped up upon the horse
and rode away
waving the violin
And then with a low bow gave it
to the first naked nude he ran across

And there were no strings
attached

Laurence Ferlinghetti

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

My goodness, its 8.35pm and nobody has posted on the poetry thread today. Looks like it will be down to me to get it started (before I disappear off to cook my tea).

Don't Let that Horse

Don't let that horse
eat that violin
cried Chagall's mother
But he
kept right on
painting
And became famous

And kept on painting
The Horse With the Violin in Mouth
And when he finally finished it
he jumped up upon the horse
and rode away
waving the violin
And then with a low bow gave it
to the first naked nude he ran across

And there were no strings
attached

Laurence Ferlinghetti

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This is funny Hes! thank you! :)

Not sure how much I will be on tonight as I have work to prepare for tomorrow but thought I would offer this wistful piece from Hardy...have a nice night all if I am not back....

We sat at the window
Thomas Hardy


We sat at the window looking out,
And the rain came down like silken strings
That Swithin's day. Each gutter and spout
Babbled unchecked in the busy way
Of witless things:
Nothing to read, nothing to see
Seemed in that room for her and me
On Swithin's day.

We were irked by the scene, by our own selves; yes,
For I did not know, nor did she infer
How much there was to read and guess
By her in me, and to see and crown
By me in her.
Wasted were two souls in their prime,
And great was the waste, that July time
When the rain came down.

The Parakeets

They talk all day
and when it starts to get dark
they lower their voices
to converse with their own shadows
and with the silence.

They are like everybody
—the parakeets—
all day chatter,
and at night bad dreams.

With their gold rings
on their clever faces,
brilliant feathers
and the heart restless
with speech...

They are like everybody,
—the parakeets—
the ones that talk best
have separate cages.

Alberto Blanco

Sad heart beating time
Precious days and moments pass
Stuck here in limbo

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

Sad heart beating time
Precious days and moments pass
Stuck here in limbo

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Aw Stef, limbo isn't a great place to be (and I should know right now believe me), I hope things move sooner rather than later...

Alf I liked your post, were you being ironic by any chance? :D

D is for daring to sneak a kiss
E is for every moment I miss
R is the reason for being I'm sure
B is the beating heart I endure
Y is for years; a future it seems

T is for tent; he'll know what I mean :p
U is for understanding the person unseen
P is a pie filled with hopes and dreams

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Alf I liked your post, were you being ironic by any chance? :D

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No freckle, I don't have that much imagination :o:D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

D is for daring to sneak a kiss
E is for every moment I miss
R is the reason for being I'm sure
B is the beating heart I endure
Y is for years; a future it seems

T is for tent; he'll know what I mean :p
U is for understanding the person unseen
P is a pie filled with hopes and dreams

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How utterly lovely..............you just made my night, sitting her doing boring old work and suddenly cheered by some good old fashioned romance! :):):)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Aw Stef, limbo isn't a great place to be (and I should know right now believe me), I hope things move sooner rather than later...:D

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Thanks Freckle.

Yes limbo is a bit grim, we have something in common there!

Poor/non-existent communications are testing my nerves and it would also seem I've fallen for a bout of the post holiday blues. The Highlander this weekend should be a good distraction.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

No freckle, I don't have that much imagination :o:D

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Ah I see, must just like those birds!!!!!! :):D

can you see how much avoidance I using tonight? having said i wouldn't be on much cos of work I am actually on constantly.....oh dear...i shall be burning the midnight oil and looking 95 again in the morning!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

How utterly lovely..............you just made my night, sitting her doing boring old work and suddenly cheered by some good old fashioned romance! :):):)

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Oh that's great - a smile or two raised from the doldrums!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

Thanks Freckle.

Yes limbo is a bit grim, we have something in common there!

Poor/non-existent communications are testing my nerves and it would also seem I've fallen for a bout of the post holiday blues. The Highlander this weekend should be a good distraction.

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Keep the faith Stef...as your signature states "happiness is something that sneaks in..."this time next year I am hoping for a fairly boring life interspersed with lively bits! enjoy the Highlander!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

D is for daring to sneak a kiss
E is for every moment I miss
R is the reason for being I'm sure
B is the beating heart I endure
Y is for years; a future it seems

T is for tent; he'll know what I mean :p
U is for understanding the person unseen
P is a pie filled with hopes and dreams

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Well this is very romantic Stef :D Do I detect a meeting of minds here ;):D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Well this is very romantic Stef Do I detect a meeting of minds here ;):D

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A meeting of minds? :confused:;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

D is for daring to sneak a kiss
E is for every moment I miss
R is the reason for being I'm sure
B is the beating heart I endure
Y is for years; a future it seems

T is for tent; he'll know what I mean :p
U is for understanding the person unseen
P is a pie filled with hopes and dreams

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That's so lovely guys.

I can't wait for DT's haiku response. :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

That's so lovely guys.

I can't wait for DT's haiku response. :)

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Post run nutrition
delays DT's reaction
hill reps survival!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

Post run nutrition
delays DT's reaction
hill reps survival!

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Eeee I don't know
you athletes and yer hill reps
wish I was as ard as you lot
instead I run along the coast
and pay for it on the hills
anni waltz in two weeks
eeeeeeeeeek!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

A meeting of minds? :confused:;)

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I don't get out much :o:)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Eeee I don't know
you athletes and yer hill reps
wish I was as ard as you lot
instead I run along the coast
and pay for it on the hills
anni waltz in two weeks
eeeeeeeeeek!

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You're not alone frecks
I did 12 400m yesterday by hecks
I was a full 800m behind the pack
well and truly a wreck lost at the back
Keep digging away and you'll soon feel the power
And see the reward washing sweat in the shower! :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

I don't get out much :o:)

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A fell runner that doesn't get out much? Get away! :D

Fell Poet romance
flourishes over shared love
of dippers and hugs

:)

Heinz Fifty Seven
Oxtail Soup, served with fresh bread
revives weary Tup

:D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Fell Poet romance
flourishes over shared love
of dippers and hugs

:)

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This is great.......................sigh....who needs film noir, french movies etc etc......:), so pleased for you both x

Cut knees, burnt out
What keeps us coming back
A question I have often asked
But put back on the rack.

Lost bearings, thick clag
What keeps us coming back
I wont be doing this again
Throw my Walshes in the sack

Quads scream, energy gone
What keeps us coming back
Surely I wont finish this
now where's that bloody track

Wet rock, footing wrong
What keeps us coming back
The end is now in vista view
Lets give this sprint a crack

Hunched, gasping the finish field
Case of ability lack
Joy, elation, inner peace
Ill be coming back

By Roy Scott

Great stuff Roy :cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Roy Scott

Cut knees, burnt out
What keeps us coming back
A question I have often asked
But put back on the rack.

Lost bearings, thick clag
What keeps us coming back
I wont be doing this again
Throw my Walshes in the sack

Quads scream, energy gone
What keeps us coming back
Surely I wont finish this
now where's that bloody track

Wet rock, footing wrong
What keeps us coming back
The end is now in vista view
Lets give this sprint a crack

Hunched, gasping the finish field
Case of ability lack
Joy, elation, inner peace
Ill be coming back

By Roy Scott

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Roy Scott

Cut knees, burnt out
What keeps us coming back
A question I have often asked
But put back on the rack.

Lost bearings, thick clag
What keeps us coming back
I wont be doing this again
Throw my Walshes in the sack

Quads scream, energy gone
What keeps us coming back
Surely I wont finish this
now where's that bloody track

Wet rock, footing wrong
What keeps us coming back
The end is now in vista view
Lets give this sprint a crack

Hunched, gasping the finish field
Case of ability lack
Joy, elation, inner peace
Ill be coming back

By Roy Scott

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brilliant stuff! one to re- read the night before a race me thinks!

Eternal love/life.

Everything goes back to dust,
To be consumed by a dying star,
Billions of years of almost immortality,
You comfort yourself,
Knowing your love came from the stars,
And will return to give life and light,
To the black void,
To begin the eternal circle of life,
Once more.

By Herakles.

The sun is shining and I'm feeling happy! :)

Great original work by Roy, Herakles, DT and Stef. Stef...hang in there. It is a cliche but the best things in life are worth waiting for and it seems that you have both discovered, in my opinion, the best thing in life.

I have discovered the origin of the expression 'my heart sings'. Thought it was some poetic make believe. Amazing!:D

Nice to see you in good spirits Hes! :cool: Seen any swallows yet? :)