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Ok, this is not strictly a poetic question (but it could become one!), but can anyone tell me the term used to described that alarm sound that sheep sometimes make (certainly Swaledales). It's kind of like a sneeze, and even seems to resemble the opening and closing door sound on the USS Enterprise (any trekky fans?)! I've googled and googled and I can't find any reference to it - please help as it's really bugging me. Cheers in anticipation. MD
Funnily enough Mossy I've never heard the alarm call of a Swaledale. Wonder what you're up to to alarm them? ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Me neither DT :D. They can make a sort of hacking cough sound (rather than a 'squeal piggy squeal' sound). Is that what you mean Mossdog?Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Ummm....very droll DT. I guess it because I'm running at such a swift pace across the fells that my blurred image must startle them...."Is it a train? Is it a bullet? No, it's a middle-aged wheezing ol'git!" I say it Swaledales because they're the breed I most encounter on my home turf, but perhaps other breeds produce this high pitched whistle sound too. Maybe there isn't a terms for it, just like there's no name for the back of the knees (according to Monty Python).;)
Sorry Mossy :o We had some fun last night rescuing a decent sized lamb from a concrete culvert up on the Bronte Moors. Much ribald humour ensured when one of my club-mates showed great dexterity in getting hold of the poor thing :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Yeah, that could be it Stolly. Like a combination of a high pitched whistle and a loud sharp sniff all-in-one. Definitely a warning/alarm sound, often when their lamb(s) are near, they usually stand their ground (for a nano second anyway) and then charge off. We all know that sheep 'bleat' but this is a very distinctive and different sound. I'm sure there's some country term for it - if not let's make one up :cool:.Quote:
Originally Posted by Stolly
warning - do not try to do this at home !!!!!!!!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by mossdog
love this merry...nice one!Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
it appears in my absence there has been a great deal of merriment, a lot of which has involved sheep :-)...cue plath.....
Sheep in Fog
slyvia plath
The hills steep off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I have disappointed them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the color of rust
Hooves, dolorous bells--
All morning the
Morning has been blackening.
A flower left out.
My bones hold the stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
Can't beat a bit of sheep derived merriment of an afternoon freckle :)
Indeed, i only wish there were more of them in Tyneside !Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Herdwick sips a bottle of broon
in the middle of the toon!
Stef and I were staying in the Lakes last week and the herdwicks were still lambing. It was terrific. We saw one real tiny that must have only been hours old :cool:
aw that sounds awesome :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Morning all....
Very moving poem about the loss of someone and how they continue on.....reading v nice and worth a listen to
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetrya...do?poemId=6455
How very moving, beautiful imagery. Thanks for posting Frecks. I'm going to Google Owen Sheers right now.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Its friday...............
Poetry
And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.
Pablo Neruda
Friday Pablo :cool:
Into My Own
ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew--
Only more sure of all I thought was true.
Robert Frost
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Thanks for posting that freckle, it brought to mind this sonnet by Wordsworth about the loss of his 3 year old daughter.
Surprised by joy - impatient as the wind
Surprised by joy – impatient as the wind
I turned to share the transport – Oh! With whom
But thee, long buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind –
But how could I forget thee? - Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss? – That thought's return
Was the worse pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
William Wordsworth
Ode to a Scarecrow
Hey, be Seedy!
He effigy, hate shy
Jakey yellow men
Oh pique! You are rusty
You've double
You ex-wise head
Found this today and learn't my ABC at the same time:D
A Love Song
Theodosia Garrison
MY love it should be silent, being deep—
And being very peaceful should be still—
Still as the utmost depths of ocean keep—
Serenely silent as some mighty hill.
Yet is my love so great it needs must fill
With very joy the inmost heart of me,
The joy of dancing branches on the hill
The joy of leaping waves upon the sea.
Great choice Alf - thanks for posting, that's a new on for me as I'm embarrassed to say that I've been very neglectful of Wordsworth:oQuote:
Originally Posted by Alf
Lovely Mossdog and I really enjoyed Alf's Wordsworth and Merry's abc choice.
So many great things have been posted and this forumite has been too careworn/overworked lately to enjoy.
Lovers emotions
as the turmultuous sea
endless ebb and flow
Its nice to be here again, albeit briefly!
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Seeing my mother's chives consuming the garden in a riot of purple flowers reminded me of this which hangs on our kitchen units:
When i am an old woman i shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
I liked that Mr B even if a bit of it was a bit close to home ;):DQuote:
Originally Posted by mr brightside
This is by John Clare who wrote it after he had been committed to an asylum and is about his illness.
I am
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
John Clare
There have been some really gorgeous choices on here the past couple of days, this being one of my fave's but I also enjoyed the contributions from Hes, Merry, Alf and Mr B.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Mr B I have come across that poem before and found it both reassuring and funny! Alf I really liked the Clare poem, I hadn't realised that he had suffered from depression and it prompted me to look up more info.... its seems that he was torn throughout his life between writing poetry and providing for his family and that in some ways that may have contributed to his depression, I think he also felt like a fish out of water at times, not fitting in in his working class/agricultural background or in the London of the 18th to 19th century. Knowing this and reading the poem makes it that bit more moving and poignant....I think it very eloquently describes his sense of alienation and also the longing for a more peaceful and harmonious existence. I really liked the following lines...
"I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky."
Interesting stuff!
In wonder if this one was for Mary Joyce?
I Hid My Love
I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light;
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where'er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love goodbye.
I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee's song
She lay there all the summer long.
I hid my love in field and town
Till e'en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o'er,
The fly's bass turned to lion's roar;
And even the silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.
John Clare
Nice haiku Hes :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I like the new signature freckle :cool:
Sandpiper fledglings
attempt tentative first steps
by bubbling Wharfe
Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Lovely haiku DT...the new signature is from il postino (you probably knew that being a pablo fan!!!) which I started watching the other night and loved but fell asleep ( i think i am getting on as this happens regularly now)
Hey I like that DT. I'm encountering lots of red grouse chicks on the top too, already for the Glorious Twelfth no doubt :(Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Yes Mossy I totally agree :mad:Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
"What is it but deliberate massacre when tens of thousands of tame, hand-reared creatures are every year literally driven into the jaws of death and mown down in a peculiarly brutal manner? A perfect roar of guns fills the air; louder tap and yell the beaters, while above the din can be heard the heart-rending cries of wounded hares and rabbits, some of which can be seen dragging themselves away, with legs broken, or turning round and round in their agony before they die! And the birds! They are on every side, some rising, some dropping; some lying dead, but the great majority fluttering on the ground wounded; some with both wings broken and a leg; others merely winged, running to hide; others mortally wounded, gasping out their last breath amidst the hellish uproar which surrounds them. And this is called 'sport!'"
-- Florence Dixie
One for mums and daughters everywhere :D
Mother and Daughter
She will not have it that my day wanes low,
Poor of the fire its drooping sun denies,
That on my brow the thin lines write good-byes
Which soon may be read plain for all to know,
Telling that I have done with youth's brave show;
Alas! and done with youth in heart and eyes,
With wonder and with far expectancies,
Save but to say 'I knew such long ago.'
She will not have it. Loverlike to me,
She with her happy gaze finds all that's best,
She sees this fair and that unfretted still,
And her own sunshine over all the rest:
So she half keeps me as she'd have me be,
And I forget to age, through her sweet will.
Augusta Webster
I love John Clare and that is one of my favourites. Thanks for posting. I've got a book of his you can borrow some time.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
How beautiful and moving....thank youQuote:
Originally Posted by Alf
Harry glad you liked the Clare, I found his story interesting...finished watcging il postino tonight, :-( is all I shall say!
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I think you are right about John Clare and Mary Joyce freckle. Just been reading about him (in my lunchbreak of course :rolleyes:) It also seems sad the publishers of the day made him change some of his language to match the "accepted poetry" of the day :(
The Eve Of Battle.
I open my eyes and feel the sun upon my skin,
The radiant light pierces the room,
A hint of rosemary drifts in,
I am ready and never been more so.
My wife wakes she smiles and knows what i must do,
It does not need to be said,
She helps me into my armour and passes me my shield,
Today is a good day to die.
We stand in the pass my brethren and i,
Powerful , inpenetrable and proud,
It begins the attack by the so called immortals,
For the Gods, for citizenship, For Sparta.
By Leonidas.
Good to see you back Leonidas!Quote:
Originally Posted by Leonidas
Morning all !
A Fairy Song
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours;
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
William Shakespeare
I've loved DT's latest haiku. So good to see you on form Mr. Tup.
roadside scurrying
a spiny ball on tiptoes
the hedgehog crosses