Oooooo this is one of my all time faves and funnily enough i nearly posted it myself the other day so thank you mossy for posting :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
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Oooooo this is one of my all time faves and funnily enough i nearly posted it myself the other day so thank you mossy for posting :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Oooo yes this looks really useful...just need to put some time aside to pick out the poems, lets think about this one more, thanks DT!...We could do a 2011 yearbook/reader?Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Have a wonderful day all...
Morning Poem
Mary Oliver
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
Time! Some more of that would be really nice. The book might be a project for Autumn / Winter.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
I am having problems with the SEARCH function on the forum these days so apologies if this has been posted before :)
I HAVE LOVED HOURS AT SEA
I have loved hours at sea, gray cities,
The fragile secret of a flower,
Music, the making of a poem
That gave me heaven for an hour;
First stars above a snowy hill,
Voices of people kindly and wise,
And the great look of love, long hidden,
Found at last in meeting eyes.
I have loved much and been loved deeply --
Oh when my spirit's fire burns low,
Leave me the darkness and the stillness,
I shall be tired and glad to go.
Sara Teasdale
...and I will just slip another one in as I accidentally found a great illustration to go with it which is believed to be inspired by the poem :cool: :D
DREAM LAND
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
Christina Rossetti
http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/t...dream_land.jpg
Dream Land by Emma Florence Harrison
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alf
Two beautiful poems there Alf, I bet SA will love this one about the sea...is it me or is there a common theme running through them both? that of peace, serenity and stillness?.......lovely stuff :-)
ps I love your signature!
I know what you mean Harry, things are very hectic for me too at the minute which is always the case just before a holiday!...it would be nice to have a project to focus on for the autumn /winter though so perhaps later on in the year I could ask for a few of people's favourites and we could begin work on that book!Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
In the meantime...I found this lovely poem tonight which I found both moving and soothing...
A Piece Of The Storm by Mark Strand
From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,
A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room
And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up
From your book, saw it the moment it landed.
That's all There was to it. No more than a solemn waking
To brevity, to the lifting and falling away of attention, swiftly,
A time between times, a flowerless funeral. No more than that
Except for the feeling that this piece of the storm,
Which turned into nothing before your eyes, would come back,
That someone years hence, sitting as you are now, might say:
"It's time. The air is ready. The sky has an opening."
You don’t need sight, you need vision
By day I work hard and have disappointing conversations with the bank.
But by night, my friend, well I am rich beyond my wildest dreams!
Barefoot running, escaping wild eyed cows, nettle stings
Home made stuffed mushrooms, Pink Floyd and the affection of three hounds.
Oh and things I can’t mention right here.
“So you see”, she said, the other voice in my head
You don’t need sight, you need vision.
I love this freckle :DQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
That was very good freckle :cool: :DQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
The Garden
MY heart is a garden tired with autumn,
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark,
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark;
Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain—
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten—
After the stillness, will spring come again?
Sara Teasdale
Good afternoon !
Some interesting stuff since my last visit. Kathleen Jamie is a very fine prose writer.
But back to the age of austerity and the Victorians. Seems Radio 3 in their Essay at 11 pm this week are running a Tennyson week ( a writer that does creep in to the Forum now and again).
This is the 'Kraken' - which was featured on Tuesday night.Coincidentally while I was tucking into my smoked mackerel salad last night there was a quesion on the Kraken on 'Mastermind'. Seems the mythical sea monster is a creation of a Norwegian cleric from the 17th Century - religion and myths have always combined quite nicely !
Here goes :
Kraken
Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
The River Duddon (After-thought)
I thought of thee, my partner and my guide,
As being pass'd away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
William Wordsworth
Some very wonderful poems over the past couple ofdays posted by Alf and Sunbeam, my favourite lines are:
MY heart is a garden tired with autumn
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
very uplifting stuff!
x
well, a very good evening to you all...
I have just started two weeks annual leave and barring the small matter of a 2,500 word article I haven't really brought any work home so the world's my oyster i reckon!
anyhoo...ever stole anything?
from Michael
Simon Armitage
"Seeing Stars"
So George has this theory: the first thing we ever steal,
when we are young, is a symbol of what we become later
in life, when we grow up. Example: when he was nine
George stile a Mont Blanc fountain pen from a fancy
gift shop in a hotel lobby- now he's an award winning
novelist. We test the theory around the table and it seems
to add up. Clint stole a bottle of cooking sherry, now
he owns a tapas bar. Kirsty's an investment banker and
she stole money from her mother's purse. Tod took a
Curly Wurly and he's morbidly obese. Claude says he
never stole anything in his whole life, and he's an actor
i.e.unemployed. Derek says "But wait a second, I stole
a blue Smurf on a polythene parachute." And Kirsty says,
"So what more proof do we need, Derek?"
Enjoy your hols Freckle. I hope you have a good break.
The first thing I remember stealing was a penny sweet. I told the bloke I had ten in the bag, but there was 11. Call the cops! It was from a running club tuck shop, so what does that say about me? :-)
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Aw how sweet I can just imagine it..obviously you needed that extra sweet for all those wins you gonna have! :o)Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
The morn is up again, the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn
And living as if earth contained no tomb
And glowing into day: we may resume
The march of our existence:
Lord Byron (from Childe Harold)
Enjoy your hols freckle and anyone else who is off too :)
I am off up Borrowdale today for the weekend and it looks like the camping may be a bit damp :rolleyes: I will leave you with a few stanzas from "Resolution and Independence"
I
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
II
All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
III
I was a Traveller then upon the moor,
I saw the hare that raced about with joy;
I heard the woods and distant waters roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My old remembrances went from me wholly;
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.
William Wordsworth
beautiful Alf...I hope you "enjoy" borrowdale! best of luck to all of you racing at borrowdale this weekend, I hope the weather improves a little for you...anyhow I couldn't contemplate such a monster so RESPECT!!!!!! :0) xQuote:
Originally Posted by Alf
evening....its quiet on here tonight are you all camping?
The Summer Day
Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
A warmish but threatening day on the coast . May do Forestburngate tomorrow - but can you run as FPS when you've only done 4 posts?
Here's one for the summer from Wales land of poetry and mathematics - with Swansea's bard - Joe Dunthorne:
When picking your spot, look for a balance
of elements.Always show respect to those
wearing lower factors than you.Always check
downwind before shaking out your towel.
Lie back. Let the sand make a duplicate
of your spine.Match your breath to the tide.
Clear away all thoughts (now that wasn't
so tough). Let your body do the thinking.
On the backs of your eyelids, you will likely
see your childhood sweetheart in flames,
dowsed in lamp oil. This is natural .
Let her dance . You deepen by the hour.
Worship by Joe Dunthorne
hi sunbeam
this is rather special mind...i may well have joined you on that run but need to get a long one in tomorrow, we would be proud if your were to run as a FPS er!....enjoy!
A rare opportunity to dip into the thread but I'm very pleased to say that a holiday in Crete is only two days away! This evening I heard on R4 that Sappho was the first person to have described (in writing) the moon as silver...so, on that note and with my Greek hols in mind, here she is:
THE MOON
by: Sappho
The stars about the lovely moon
Fade back and vanish very soon,
When, round and full, her silver face
Swims into sight, and lights all space.
I love MacCaig's poems about birds and in searching for some found this:
TRUE WAYS OF KNOWING
Not an ounce excessive, not an inch too little,
Our easy reciprocations. You let me know
The way a boat would feel, if it could feel,
The intimate support of water.
The news you bring me has been news forever,
So that I understand what a stone would say
If only a stone could speak. Is it sad a grassblade
Can't know how it is lovely?
Is it sad that you can't know, except by hearsay
(My gossiping failing words) that you are the way
A water is that can clench its palm and crumple
A boat's confiding timbers?
But that's excessive, and too little. Knowing
The way a circle would describe its roundness,
We touch two selves and feel, complete and gentle,
The intimate support of being.
The way that flight would feel a bird flying
(If it could feel) is the way a space that's in
A stone that's in water would know itself
If it had our way of knowing.
Norman MacCaig
Two beautiful choices Hes...I remember when we had a real run of poems about the moon...in fact carol duffy has edited a book of moon poems which is quite sizeable!....I hope you have a wonderful time in Crete, you certainly deserve a break after all the hard work you have put in lately!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
well, bed for me i think...shattered...but happy ;)....night all...
To say before going to bed
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
Puzzles
you try to fathom me
as I struggle with
the cryptic crossword
and life
bamboozled, we two
you kiss my cheek
and I catch my breath
finding the answer
to both my questions.
Oooh I love this Freckle! What a lovely choice and nice to catch you before you sleep. Goodnight and sweet dreams.xx
Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Now this is my very favourite type of poem!....good to see you on top form Hes! happy hols and na night xxxQuote:
Originally Posted by Hes
my last offering for a few days...off to see some mountains...
Heartbeat by Rainer Maria Rilke
Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart
which safely exists in the center of all things?
His giant heartbeat is diverted in us
into little pulses. And his giant grief
is, like his giant jubilation, far too
great for us. And so we tear ourselves away
from him time after time, remaining only
mouths. But unexepectedly and secretly
the giant heartbeat enters our being,
so that we scream ----,
and are transformed in being and in countenance.
Which mountains are you off to visit freckle?Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Alone looking at the Mountain
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.
Li Po
Happy hols Freckle and Hes.
Harry
Poet's Obligation
To whoever is not listening to the sea
this Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up
in house or office, factory or woman
or street or mine or harsh prison cell;
to him I come, and, without speaking or looking,
I arrive and open the door of his prison,
and a vibration starts up, vague and insistent,
a great fragment of thunder sets in motion
the rumble of the planet and the foam,
the raucous rivers of the ocean flood,
the star vibrates swiftly in its corona,
and the sea is beating, dying and continuing.
So, drawn on by my destiny,
I ceaselessly must listen to and keep
the sea's lamenting in my awareness,
I must feel the crash of the hard water
and gather it up in a perpetual cup
so that, wherever those in prison may be,
wherever they suffer the autumn's castigation,
I may be there with an errant wave,
I may move, passing through windows,
and hearing me, eyes will glance upward
saying "How can I reach the sea?"
And I shall broadcast, saying nothing,
the starry echoes of the wave,
a breaking up of foam and quicksand,
a rustling of salt withdrawing,
the grey cry of the sea-birds on the coast.
So, through me, freedom and the sea
will make their answer to the shuttered heart
Pablo Neruda
Really fine poem from Senor Neruda . At our local library we seem to have one of his poetry collections in dual English/Spanish - always tricky making translations....
Here's a simpler one - but as an early riser not so sure on the sentiment !
Throwing Away the Alarm Clock
my father always said, "early to bed and
early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise."
it was lights out at 8 p.m. in our house
and we were up at dawn to the smell of
coffee, frying bacon and scrambled
eggs.
my father followed this general routine
for a lifetime and died young, broke,
and, I think, not too
wise.
taking note, I rejected his advice and it
became, for me, late to bed and late
to rise.
now, I'm not saying that I've conquered
the world but I've avoided
numberless early traffic jams, bypassed some
common pitfalls
and have met some strange, wonderful
people
one of whom
was
myself--someone my father
never
knew.
Charles Bukowski
Lots of lovely stuff on here of late, some really profound and clever work. I can't claim to be anything more than a one dimensional one off poet who writes about fellrunning....
Suitably inspired by Borrowdale, my favourite race in the calendar, here's my latest offering.
Landed on my feet
Lucky me
I cleared the wall
And somehow landed on my feet
And then the beck
A single stride
Enough to find the other side
A downhill stretch
Watering eyes
Increasing speed, lengthening stride
Into the rocks
Blurred feet adance
Holding speed, taking a chance
It opens up
The cars below
The legs relieved, the heart less so
Glance at the watch
A strong pb
My race is over, lucky me
Good stuff OOP
I've just re-read 'Dunmail' ;)
Quote:
Originally Posted by OneOffPoet
Well Done OOPQuote:
Originally Posted by OneOffPoet
A slightly different experience for me!
Bonking
A free-wheeling descent
round Grey Knotts
slyly consumed
the last drops of fuel in the tank.
A few strides up Dale Head
soon became a shuffle
and all was painfully clear.
A world in slow motion.
Everest pace.
Dizzy, I watched the field disappear summit bound.
And in the bum bag...
four gels and a power bar
that came along for the ride.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
I enjoyed those OOP and OW :D
and different for me:
In other race years I didn't eat much
and I didn't pass people
they passed me
up Bessyboot
up Scafell Pike
up Great Gable
up Dale Head
and at the race end I was left alone.
This year I ate Jelly Babies
and maltloaf and gels
and passed lots of people
up Bessyboot
up Scafell Pike
up Great Gable
up Dale Head
and at the race end I was attacked by wasps.
this is sweet, i really liked all of the borrowdale offerings, I have nothing but respect for you all, bonkers or not! (see what i did there?)Quote:
Originally Posted by Alf
anyhoo, just back from the lakes...stayed around the keswick area and managed to get up castle crag with the mini freckles who were dead proud of themselves! (as was I)...fab time inspite of the inclement weather, a deflating mattress and leaking tent...all part of the fun...
Ode to Rain
Coleridge
I
I know it is dark; and though I have lain,
Awake, as I guess, an hour or twain,
I have not once open'd the lids of my eyes,
But I lie in the dark, as a blind man lies.
O Rain! that I lie listening to,
You're but a doleful sound at best:
I owe you little thanks,'tis true,
For breaking thus my needful rest!
Yet if, as soon as it is light,
O Rain! you will but take your flight,
I'll neither rail, nor malice keep,
Though sick and sore for want of sleep.
But only now, for this one day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
II
O Rain! with your dull two-fold sound,
The clash hard by, and the murmur all round!
You know, if you know aught, that we,
Both night and day, but ill agree:
For days and months, and almost years,
Have limp'd on through this vale of tears,
Since body of mine, and rainy weather,
Have lived on easy terms together.
Yet if, as soon as it is light,
O Rain! you will but take your flight,
Though you should come again to-morrow,
And bring with you both pain and sorrow;
Though stomach should sicken and knees should swell--
I'll nothing speak of you but well.
But only now for this one day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
III
Dear Rain! I ne'er refused to say
You're a good creature in your way;
Nay, I could write a book myself,
Would fit a parson's lower shelf,
Showing how very good you are. --
What then? sometimes it must be fair!
And if sometimes, why not to-day?
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
IV
Dear Rain! if I've been cold and shy,
Take no offence! I'll tell you why.
A dear old Friend e'en now is here,
And with him came my sister dear;
After long absence now first met,
Long months by pain and grief beset--
We three dear friends! in truth, we groan
Impatiently to be alone.
We three, you mark! and not one more!
The strong wish makes my spirit sore.
We have so much to talk about,
So many sad things to let out;
So many tears in our eye-corners,
Sitting like little Jacky Homers--
In short, as soon as it is day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
V
And this I'll swear to you, dear Rain!
Whenever you shall come again,
Be you as dull as e'er you could
(And by the bye 'tis understood,
You're not so pleasant as you're good),
Yet, knowing well your worth and place,
I'll welcome you with cheerful face;
And though you stay'd a week or more,
Were ten times duller than before;
Yet with kind heart, and right good will,
I'll sit and listen to you still;
Nor should you go away, dear Rain!
Uninvited to remain.
But only now, for this one day,
Do go, dear Rain! do go away!
1802.
this is rather nice...i really like bukwoski he is quite raw, nice one SAQuote:
Originally Posted by Sunbeam Alpine