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Chin up Mez, try this one, yorkie based i know but a lot of the stuff is M62 corridor which may suit you. There's a lot of vacancies for shift work ATM working in the FMCG/White Goods sector but i don't know if shifts is an option for you.Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
I hate to think of our merry feeling such a way...sometimes life is a real bitch....Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
good job we can have hope....
A Kernel of Hope by Raymond A. Foss
A kernel of hope
Lives
Deep inside
Protected
Against the pain
The struggle
Grows
When tended
Memories ignite
Nurture
Reward
Fades
When tested
Hurt
Discarded
For graven choices
Echoes
In the dark
Against the shadows
In my heart
I really hope something turns up soon Merry :-) but in the meantime sending you a big freckled hug x
Well at least you've got the important bits sorted Merry, the others will happen with time:)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
not sure about the hair though:D
Merry is low and lacking esteem
In steams freckle and MrB
Hope and help well meant
Thanks;-)
Cheers mate, need a job so i can afford to carry on buying razor blades, otherwise i'm gonna end up with hair again:rolleyes::DQuote:
Originally Posted by fellgazelle
Yep jobs come in handy for buying stuff, not much else though;)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
Good morning all.....
Trees
Howard Nemerov
To be a giant and keep quiet about it,
To stay in one's own place;
To stand for the constant presence of process
And always to seem the same;
To be steady as a rock and always trembling,
Having the hard appearance of death
With the soft, fluent nature of growth,
One's Being deceptively armored,
One's Becoming deceptively vulnerable,
To be so tough, and take the light so well,
Freely providing forbidden knowledge
Of so many things about heaven and earth
For which we should otherwise have no word-
Poems or people are rarely so lovely,
And even when they have great qualities
They tend to tell you rather then exemplify
What they believe themselves to be about,
While from the moving silence of trees,
Whether in storm or calm, in leaf and naked,
Night or day, we draw conclusions of our own,
Sustaining and unnoticed as our breath,
And perilous also-though there has never been
A critical tree-about the nature of things.
nice haiku merry :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
this is really lovely hes, how you doing? hope the knee is on the mend....its nice to hear that things are going so well ....Mossy I loved your description of the birdsong which makes up a spring penine evening...very evocative...when I hear you and Hes talking it always makes me want to move to the country that little bit more than I already do...some day!......oystercatchers have a special resonance for me...I loved that little haiku that harry did about oystercatchers a while back, wish I could put my hands on it...harry? where are ya when i need you?Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Putting in the seed
Robert Frost
You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.
May Day, 1894
Clad is the year in all her best,
The land is sweet and sheen;
Now Spring with Summer at her breast,
Goes down the meadows green.
Here are we met to welcome in
The young abounding year,
To praise what she would have us win
Ere winter draweth near.
For surely all is not in vain,
This gallant show she brings;
But seal of hope and sign of gain,
Beareth this Spring of springs.
No longer now the seasons wear
Dull, without any tale
Of how the chain the toilers bear
Is growing thin and frail.
But hope of plenty and goodwill
Flies forth from land to land,
Nor any now the voice can still
That crieth on the hand.
A little while shall Spring come back
And find the Ancient Home
Yet marred by foolish waste and lack,
And most enthralled by some.
A little while, and then at last
Shall the greetings of the year
Be blent with wonder of the past
And all the griefs that were.
A little while, and they that meet
The living year to praise,
Shall be to them as music sweet
That grief of bye-gone days.
So be we merry to our best,
Now the land is sweet and sheen,
And Spring with Summer at her breast
Goes down the meadows green.
William Morris
Freckle that is just superb. What a magnificent poem, it's going to be one of my favourites. Many thanks.:)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Hey, "I'm liking that one too". But running atop a very lonely Mickle Fell this afternoon, into a cold easterly wind, drenched through by an annoyingly persistent drizzle, and dodging the remnants of snow, there didn't seem to be much green on this May Day (Christ, I do whinge sometimes!)Quote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
lovely stuff x runner nice to see you on the thread again :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by XRunner
I am a fan of Margaret Atwood's work...I was given a copy of her book "The Door" which I have really enjoyed...this is an older poem I think which I have posted before but I really like, it makes me think about how much or how little we actually know ourselves, it also made me think about how to be up a mountain can make you feel pleasantly small and inconsequential ...
The Moment
The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
Margaret Atwood
Night thoughts.
The endless night draws the pain out,
I watch as the proscenium of my life,
Turns to dust and joins the billion plays,
That have reached their end before it,
Leaving nothing but the stars and the endless void,
Travelling in all directions,
My insignificance overwhelms me,
I take action and join my ancestors,
Pain subsides stardust deifies.
By Herakles.
Life and love thoughts....a balm, perhaps?
XLVIII
Two happy lovers make one bread,
a single moon drop in the grass.
Walking, they cast two shadows that flow together;
waking, they leave one sun empty in their bed.
Of all the possible truths, they chose the day;
they held it, not with ropes, but with an aroma.
They did not shred the peace; they did not shatter words;
their happiness is a transparent tower.
The air and wine accompany the lovers.
The night delights them with its joyous petals.
They have a right to all carnations.
Two happy lovers, without an ending, with no death,
they are born, they die, many times while they live:
they have the eternal life of Natural.
Pablo Neruda
from 100 Love Sonnets
Morning all!
Herakles that was an angsty poem but good as ever....Mossy thank you for reminding me of good ol Pablo his words are indeed a balm...."a single moon drop in the grass".......lovely!
Well I have woken to incredibly stiff legs, had a canny race yesterday at the Keswick Half Marathon, another lovely clear day at the Lakes accompanied by mamma freckle who was on hand at the end with some of Bryson's best meat pies! what a treat!....
Anyhoo, here is another one of Pablo's lovely poems...its early I know but what the hell it a bank holiday! :p and we are an earthy lot are we not? :)
In You The Earth
Little
rose,
roselet,
at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though I’ll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
but
suddenly
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you loosened yourself like sea water:
I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes
and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.
Pablo Neruda
Mmmmmmm delicious........Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
That's a nice one Freckle.
Glad you had a good run at Keswick yesterday and no detours! :D
Wish I could have joined you if I'd had a babysitter! Typical bank hol weather means me n the babba been stuck indoors most of w'end.:(
Such Boredom
such boredom –
a gold-fish swimming
measuring the aquarium
Saut Situmorang
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
nice verse MG....
morning all
They say
Ben Okri
They say
Love grows
When the fear of death
Looms.
They say
Courage looms
When the fear
Of never loving again
Disappears
In the smell of the enemy
Who crushes us so much
We can only fight.
Love and courage grow together
When the flesh is rawest
And the spirit charged.
And distorted within the nightmare
We see the possibility
Of a future.
What a brilliant way to start the day! Thanks Freckle.x
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
the curlew cry
and the setting sun
you and I
still at one
mahler and the moors
I am undone
Very, very, very nice........in fact i think i would go so far as to say sumptious! ( if i could spell that is)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Simply exquisite....Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Hero.
I fight the good fight hero that i am,
But the monster in front of me,
It is huge i called for lady Artemis,
She hears and brings her hunters,
The beast is overcome and i Herakles,
Son of Zeus give thanks to The Goddess of the hunt,
She laughs and leaves me to contact my father,
Who smiles and says you more work to do hero.
By Herakles.
So why have so many pubs closed?
Just like the two at Cellarhead crossroads,
their names I've forgotten and may never remember.
The windows shut encased in galvanised plate.
Perfect patches of clean exterior paint framed
by black traffic soot, on the sides, gables,
above front doors below windows and between
ground and first floors, like the red ochre hands
on the walls of Palaeolithic caves.
And that's it isn't it?
People change, adapt and time rolls on
Caves and pubs cease to function,
and the voices that filled them,
Sunday lunchers, hunter gatherers
and a quick pint after workers,
with their high tales and anecdotes
are a distant hum you'll never know,
and now nothing more than ghosts.
Quote:
Originally Posted by N-dubya
Oooo this is really refreshing NDubya I like it....such a good observation.....about how something is being lost...particularly like the "distant hum" line, nice one
Herakles I liked your verse too although my ignorance regardng the subject matter impeded my comprehension!
Hum...this is very thought provoking Freckle, thanks for sharing it.
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
glad you like it stef
hey..is it still spring or wot? all i can say is it is bl***y cold up north like!
here is one of my fave poets...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHqDYgMRiEc
It's blooming cold and windy down south too, brrr!
The Clod and the Pebble
by William Blake (1757-1827)
Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.
So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.
Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.
"Blossom by blossomQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
The Spring begins"
Lovely stuff.
Me.
Free spirited and incorrigible,
Deep thinking and knowledgeable,
Tasted many delights that you should never try,
Honest and tactless incapable of a lie,
Walk along the razors edge look into the abyss,
Too many ones who care my heart they'd miss,
Back and forth i go and never sure,
If i can escape Lord Hades lure,
The sides of me are poles apart,
Both ruled by my head and not my heart.
By Herakles.
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I like that one freckle must check out some more of his poems :cool:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Another excellent poem Hes :)
"Wouldn't you just die without Mahler?"
Nice one N-dubya very thought provoking that one :cool:Quote:
Originally Posted by N-dubya
I noticed a For Sale sign on one of our local pubs the other day and it jogged my memory of all the good times I had spent there. It will probably be made into flats rather than surviving as a pub.
"You don't know what you have till its gone"
With The Lark
Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves,
Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves.
But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky,
I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry;
And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be,
Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree,
There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known,
For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own;
And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Hey up all....thanks for the lovely comments on my wee poem. Good to see another cracking poem with an interesting theme from NDubya and Herakles, you have found a great way of exploring issues with the help of the gods!
I really like the above poem by Paul Dunbar, MG. How true...night is the time when I lie awake and worry but with daybreak everything gets put into perspective again, waking in the morning to sing with the lark! Lovely stuff
If you get time you should check out the work of the poetry boyband Aisle 16. I was introduced to their work this weekend and its brilliant. Very witty performance poetry. I especially liked the ironic 'You've gotta fight for your right to latte'.