Today's poet

Oooh that is such an eerie poem....sends shivers!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

This is a Photograph of Me

It was taken some time ago
At first it seems to be
a smeared
print: blurred lines and grey flecks
blended with the paper;

then, as you scan
it, you can see something in the left-hand corner
a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree
(balsam or spruce) emerging
and, to the right, halfway up
what ought to be a gentle
slope, a small frame house.

In the background there is a lake,
and beyond that, some low hills.

(The photograph was taken
the day after I drowned.

I am in the lake, in the center
of the picture, just under the surface.

It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how large or how small I am:
the effect of water
on light is a distortion.

but if you look long enough
eventually
you will see me.)

Margaret Atwood

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess

Evening Solace

THE human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame's or Wealth's illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.

But, there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart's best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish,
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.

And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back a faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others' sufferings seem.
Oh ! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie !

And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,
Seeking a life and world to come.

Charlotte Bronte

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I love this...especially the red bits.....somehow quite soothing yet bit of a "monday night" feel...(ie a bit miserable but not quite as miserable as sunday!!!!!!)

There's been some great posts recently and I love Freckle's Atwood poem. Looking forward to the Armitage gig...it doesn't seem so far away now.

crashing woodland run
ghostly swans glimpsed through the trees
drifting silently

Ohhh I like this!:

Alive

I saw a landing gull
haul in his wings
from flight, and thought:

'There is a going out into the dark
and a coming in out of the dark
one finds oneself between.

As between the ringing
of the hammer in cold air,
and the actual hammer-blow, witnessed
at a distance.

Or between the object and the
extremity of its lengthened
evening shadow.

Or between the words that come
out of the mouth, and those
that were in the mind before.'

One hovers
between the whole egg
and its breaking.

Robyn Sarah

steadfast aloneness
a bitter response
to our histories unfair
against all odds
we met to connect
and began to share
night after day
cracks have appeared
in the shells that we wear
this slow awakening
a realisation that
two ones make a pair

That is rather good.

I love the hammer blow line. Why does the fact that it is in cold air make it feel so much crisper a line?

Inspired.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Ohhh I like this!:

Alive

I saw a landing gull
haul in his wings
from flight, and thought:

'There is a going out into the dark
and a coming in out of the dark
one finds oneself between.

As between the ringing
of the hammer in cold air,
and the actual hammer-blow, witnessed
at a distance.

Or between the object and the
extremity of its lengthened
evening shadow.

Or between the words that come
out of the mouth, and those
that were in the mind before.'

One hovers
between the whole egg
and its breaking.

Robyn Sarah

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

There's been some great posts recently and I love Freckle's Atwood poem. Looking forward to the Armitage gig...it doesn't seem so far away now.

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Two months on Saturday. It'll fly by.

All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other -
Only the mountain and I.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess

All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other -
Only the mountain and I.

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Oh MG that's just plain lovely, but may I also say, rather sad too:(

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

steadfast aloneness
a bitter response
to our histories unfair
against all odds
we met to connect
and began to share
night after day
cracks have appeared
in the shells that we wear
this slow awakening
a realisation that
two ones make a pair

---

Goodness Hes there seems to be some close parallels in both our lives at the moment; I just wish I had your poetic flow too - wow what great verse.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mossdog

Oh MG that's just plain lovely, but may I also say, rather sad too:(

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Oh I love the solitude of it! You know that feeling you get when you can't hear a thing and there's not a soul in sight. :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

steadfast aloneness
a bitter response
to our histories unfair
against all odds
we met to connect
and began to share
night after day
cracks have appeared
in the shells that we wear
this slow awakening
a realisation that
two ones make a pair

---

awesome hes! really well written

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess

All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other -
Only the mountain and I.

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this is beautiful...as i wake this morning with that "part ofthe rat race " kind of vibe this type of thing cheers me so thanks!

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

One of my favourites that Freckle x

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

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sunshine on Skiddaw
another beautiful day
we're so lucky!

:cool:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

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I love this Freckle - never look back on life's choices.... but do if you take the wrong track in a fell race eh?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stolly

I love this Freckle - never look back on life's choices.... but do if you take the wrong track in a fell race eh?

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He he!

There is a saying (which I made up)

Once lost
Never forgotten!

:p

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

sunshine on Skiddaw
another beautiful day
we're so lucky!

:cool:

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Good on you.

It is a beautiful day today, a nice one to be out on the fells again.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Stevie

It's good to have a "real" poet in our midst.
The Song of Ungirt Runners
Charles Hamilton Sorley

I was interested to read on Wikipedia that cross country running in the rain was a favourite activity of Sorley.

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I have just obtained an excellent biography about Charles Sorley called, most appropriately "The Ungirt Runner" by T.B.Swann (Archon books, 1965). It contains this marvellous poem:

Sorley's Weather

When outside the icy rain
Comes leaping helter-skelter,
Shall I tie my restive brain
Snugly under shelter?

Shall I make a gentle song
Here in my firelit study,
When outside the winds blow strong
And the lanes are muddy?

With old wine and drowsy meats
Am I to fill my belly?
Shall I glutton here with Keats?
Shall I drink with Shelley?

Tobacco's pleasant, firelight's good:
Poetry makes both better.
Clay is wet and so is mud,
Winter rains are wetter.

Yet rest there, Shelley, on the sill,
For though the winds come frorley
I'm away to the rain-blown hill
And the ghost of Sorley.

by Robert Graves

I do like this one...

Expectans Expectavi

From morn to midnight, all day through,
I laugh and play as others do,
I sin and chatter, just the same
As others with a different name.

And all year long upon the stage
I dance and tumble and do rage
So vehemently, I scarcely see
The inner and eternal me.

I have a temple I do not
Visit, a heart I have forgot,
A self that I have never met,
A secret shrine -- and yet, and yet

This sanctuary of my soul
Unwitting I keep white and whole,
Unlatched and lit, if Thou should'st care
To enter or to tarry there.

With parted lips and outstretched hands
And listening ears Thy servant stands,
Call Thou early, call Thou late,
To Thy great service dedicate.

Charles Hamilton Sorley

Alone.

We all die alone even the most popular of us,
I can feel the fates even now,
Sharpening their blade to cut the string,
That is my life,
Why is there nothing but emptiness,
In the pit of my soul,
That turns my heart to stone,
No-one ever knew me,
And no-one ever will,
Gone forgotten not even a footnote,
In the tragi-comic poem,
That was my life,
Hades calls.

By Herakles

Pandora's Box.

Pandora's box is open to me,
To be touched by madness is my curse,
Uncontrollable despair, anguish, fear,
The place where all hope is gone,
And then for some divine sick joke,
I get to touch the stars,
Feel ecstasy only others can dream of,
What have i done to upset the gods,
And be made to suffer in this way.

By Herakles.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by XRunner

I have just obtained an excellent biography about Charles Sorley called, most appropriately "The Ungirt Runner" by T.B.Swann (Archon books, 1965). It contains this marvellous poem:

Sorley's Weather

When outside the icy rain
Comes leaping helter-skelter,
Shall I tie my restive brain
Snugly under shelter?

Shall I make a gentle song
Here in my firelit study,
When outside the winds blow strong
And the lanes are muddy?

With old wine and drowsy meats
Am I to fill my belly?
Shall I glutton here with Keats?
Shall I drink with Shelley?

Tobacco's pleasant, firelight's good:
Poetry makes both better.
Clay is wet and so is mud,
Winter rains are wetter.

Yet rest there, Shelley, on the sill,
For though the winds come frorley
I'm away to the rain-blown hill
And the ghost of Sorley.

by Robert Graves

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This is lush X runner, really liked "Tobacco's pleasant, firelight's good:
Poetry makes both better."....:cool:

Peace.

Here i am the bastard child of hope and fear,
Cursed to spend half my time with each parent,
Did they really think they should bring me into the world,
Or is it some sick cosmic joke on their part,
Either way i'm stuck with it,
The only way out is to kill them both,
I walk up to place we are meeting,
Knife in hand i wait until,
They are equally apart of me,
I plunge the knife in it's over.

By Herakles.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess

I do like this one...

Expectans Expectavi

From morn to midnight, all day through,
I laugh and play as others do,
I sin and chatter, just the same
As others with a different name.

And all year long upon the stage
I dance and tumble and do rage
So vehemently, I scarcely see
The inner and eternal me.

I have a temple I do not
Visit, a heart I have forgot,
A self that I have never met,
A secret shrine -- and yet, and yet

This sanctuary of my soul
Unwitting I keep white and whole,
Unlatched and lit, if Thou should'st care
To enter or to tarry there.

With parted lips and outstretched hands
And listening ears Thy servant stands,
Call Thou early, call Thou late,
To Thy great service dedicate.

Charles Hamilton Sorley

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This is also really inspiring...there is something really interesting about the concept of a real self, concealed by layers of persona

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Herakles

Alone.

We all die alone even the most popular of us,
I can feel the fates even now,
Sharpening their blade to cut the string,
That is my life,
Why is there nothing but emptiness,
In the pit of my soul,
That turns my heart to stone,
No-one ever knew me,
And no-one ever will,
Gone forgotten not even a footnote,
In the tragi-comic poem,
That was my life,
Hades calls.

By Herakles

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some dark stuff from you tonight herakles you are on a roll i see, how is the running going? got any thing planned ? not long now til dufton

Inhuman beings.

Over 90% of the universe is void,
The clues there for you all trying to find deeper meaning,
We kid ourselves about our importance,
When all we're doing is wasting oxygen,
That could be put to much better use,
We destroy and defile everything,
Hideous creatures who should be thrown in the pit,
Give something else a chance,
The end game is upon us.

By Herakles.

The Fly

Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

William Blake

Some interesting verse if not quite poetic!!!!!

http://www.b3ta.com/links/David_Cameron_Common_People

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mossdog

Some interesting verse if not quite poetic!!!!!

http://www.b3ta.com/links/David_Cameron_Common_People

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Hmmm...good version and a real shame that my crawl round to the polling office with a migraine wasn't enough to keep him out! :(

By the way, thanks for the lovely comments about my recent poems Mossy, I do appreciate them a lot and it is reassuring and nice to know that someone else is experiencing the same thing. Blooming amazing but sometimes quite overwhelming isn't it?

Great stuff XRunner. I like this a lot.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by XRunner

I have just obtained an excellent biography about Charles Sorley called, most appropriately "The Ungirt Runner" by T.B.Swann (Archon books, 1965). It contains this marvellous poem:

Sorley's Weather

When outside the icy rain
Comes leaping helter-skelter,
Shall I tie my restive brain
Snugly under shelter?

Shall I make a gentle song
Here in my firelit study,
When outside the winds blow strong
And the lanes are muddy?

With old wine and drowsy meats
Am I to fill my belly?
Shall I glutton here with Keats?
Shall I drink with Shelley?

Tobacco's pleasant, firelight's good:
Poetry makes both better.
Clay is wet and so is mud,
Winter rains are wetter.

Yet rest there, Shelley, on the sill,
For though the winds come frorley
I'm away to the rain-blown hill
And the ghost of Sorley.

by Robert Graves

---

Progress

And once again the depths of my life rush onward,
as if they were moving in wider channels now.
Things are becoming more close to me
and all images more thoroughly looked upon.
I feel more comfortable with that which is nameless,:
With my senses, as with birds, I reach up
into the windy heavens out of the oak,
and in those pools broken off from the day,
my feeling, as if standing on fishes, descends.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Waiting

amidst scattered scores
a flute lies on a chair
still warm from Satie
whilst the ink dries slowly
on an ochre print
of a shadowy pair
small scraps of poetry
written by two hands
nestle amongst the sheets
and the silence grows louder
as the mango's blush deepens
and I await his return

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mossdog

Some interesting verse if not quite poetic!!!!!

http://www.b3ta.com/links/David_Cameron_Common_People

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This was both funny and depressing........................sigh............ .thanks for posting!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

Waiting

amidst scattered scores
a flute lies on a chair
still warm from Satie
whilst the ink dries slowly
on an ochre print
of a shadowy pair
small scraps of poetry
written by two hands
nestle amongst the sheets
and the silence grows louder
as the mango's blush deepens
and I await his return

---

Oooooooo be still my beating heart................lovely stuff!


ps i adore the rilke poem too

I know its first thing in the morning but I have had been up with the little un who has terrible ear ache so this lovely verse appealed to me.....have a great day everyone...

To Say Before Going to Sleep

I would like to sing someone to sleep,
have someone to sit by and be with.
I would like to cradle you and softly sing,
be your companion while you sleep or wake.
I would like to be the only person
in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.
And would like to listen to you
and outside to the world and to the woods.

The clocks are striking, calling to each other,
and one can see right to the edge of time.
Outside the house a strange man is afoot
and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep.
Beyond that there is silence.

My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;
and they hold you gently, letting you go
when something in the dark begins to move.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

Waiting

amidst scattered scores
a flute lies on a chair
still warm from Satie
whilst the ink dries slowly
on an ochre print
of a shadowy pair
small scraps of poetry
written by two hands
nestle amongst the sheets
and the silence grows louder
as the mango's blush deepens
and I await his return

---

Sometime, inspiration seems to arrive with such zest, in those wee hours - another very beautiful poem Hes, thanks.

i can't quite grasp


there's this thing with time - you see
i can't quite grasp
too much has gone by
yet
somehow
it's still like before, to me,
like those blue-sunshine days
nearly two decades past
before the time of deportation

we've moved on -
but we haven't
somehow
we haven't
i think of you, like then,
golden, fresh, 'free',
on the brink of womanhood
and hope stirs,
but then,
it just-will-not-surge

and i take time to question

you, we've, changed
fixed in our aspic lives
part consumed - by time
a divergence of commitments
and yet, this thing,
still gnaws me
i can't quite grasp

it slips my hold
a plunging, gouging
emptiness
that's sorrow, maybe,
and the sheer, sheer
relentlessness
impotent to do otherwise
but accept
yet it will not,
refuses,
to be reconciled
maybe time will tell

And of our time - finite
'the time of our lives'
look to who we give that gift
it's precious moments
wealthy years
and more
what greater measure can there be
that absolute present
unquestionably
that authentic nature
of our love
of that which we value
reveals to me
sadly
a churning dissonance
some questions

but reason remonstrates
"A glass half-empty..."
they say
"move on"
"best foot forward"
"tomorrow's another day"
- f**k their platitudes
I want yesterday,
all those wasted, exiled years
I want all of you.