Today's poet

I liked the autumnal lines from Mountain Goatess.

For Sunbeam Alpine, I also like the poetry of Ted Hughes:

A Childish Prank

Man's and woman's bodies lay without souls,
Dully gaping, foolishly staring, inert
On the flowers of Eden.
God pondered.

The problem was so great, it dragged him asleep.

Crow laughed.
He bit the Worm, God's only son,
Into two writhing halves.

He stuffed into man the tail half
With the wounded end hanging out.

He stuffed the head half headfirst into woman
And it crept in deeper and up
To peer out through her eyes
Calling it's tail-half to join up quickly, quickly
Because O it was painful.

Man awoke being dragged across the grass.
Woman awoke to see him coming.
Neither knew what had happened.

God went on sleeping.

Crow went on laughing.

Ted Hughes

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess

autumn brown leaves fall
winter draws on and vest
spring hopes and dreams dwell

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I've only just got that second time round.

"Winter draws on and vest" is a brilliant line. Very subtle and very funny.

I just tried reading the section about the seasonal bit of haiku and what a lot of twaddle! I kept skipping pages and would still come back to more of the same. Blimey there are an awful lot of rules (subtleties they might argue) about haiku the real pros can get their knickers in a twist about. 5,7,5 insistance is the least of their worries. Life is too short methinks.

Like you, I believe there are people on this forum who write far better haiku, unrestrained by whatever convention is or isn't in vogue by the so-called experts. I too feel inspired by that fact and would love to put my money where my mouth is. I've started thinking of a project already. It definately involves hills, running, wildlife and friendships. I know I'm one step behind you on that and am looking forward to seeing the result.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

I agree with you about Wing Beats HHH. I have been reading the notes at the back and there is quite a bit about using the birds' names as seasonal words (that haiku are supposed to contain). I disagreed with their list somewhat. They have curlew down as a winter word and, for me, its about summer but that's to do with where I live. It's a mine field methinks. I also think the haiku were written prior to the book idea coming into being so probably they existed on their own and needed the birds' names but it does come across as a bit clunky in the anthology at times.

Some of the haiku were quite mediocre, I thought, but then a few of them are wonderful, really evocative. It did make me think that you, Derby Tup, Stef, myself and many others have written equally good (if not better) birdy haiku at times. Anyway, I am feeling inspired by that fact.

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

I liked the autumnal lines from Mountain Goatess.

For Sunbeam Alpine, I also like the poetry of Ted Hughes:

A Childish Prank

Man's and woman's bodies lay without souls,
Dully gaping, foolishly staring, inert
On the flowers of Eden.
God pondered.

The problem was so great, it dragged him asleep.

Crow laughed.
He bit the Worm, God's only son,
Into two writhing halves.

He stuffed into man the tail half
With the wounded end hanging out.

He stuffed the head half headfirst into woman
And it crept in deeper and up
To peer out through her eyes
Calling it's tail-half to join up quickly, quickly
Because O it was painful.

Man awoke being dragged across the grass.
Woman awoke to see him coming.
Neither knew what had happened.

God went on sleeping.

Crow went on laughing.

Ted Hughes

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I really adore this poem, I love the imagery and the notion of two people being driven by unconscious forces, helpless by desire.....nice one Hes

There has been a wealth of good choices and orginal work on here over the past few days which I am just catching up on. It was great to see you back MG with a contribution and Hes I am really excited by your book idea (your haiku were gorgeous as ever)...also HHH you are being very enigmatic about your project, I am really looking forward to seeing what enfolds...the future is bright, the future is poetried!

ps ...sunbeam I am really looking forward to seeing Jo shapcott and Don paterson at the lit and phil in town be good to catch up with a fellow fell poet again, if anyone can make the journey to newcastle details can be found here....http://www.litandphil.org.uk/html_pages/LP_news.html

I think is a pretty stunning poem from the forward book of poetry 2010.


Altogether Elsewhere
Tess Taylor

They multiply, these cities of the heart.
Rooms we stop to rest our bodies in.

Brief beds: One California night
I saw humpbacked coastal ranges,

and scotch-tinged, wet from naked swimming,
woke to smokestacks and dawn in Queens.

Light split the branches of new trees.
Stage set lives implied themselves from props.

Now morning, with its birds, construction sites,
sun on a western feeway, city garden filled

with lavender, with childhood light
this midsummer too will go soon.

O unfinishable rooms,
homes that feel so real so briefly,

I feel you incomplete me, incompletely.

To search and never find
Is better than not to search
I find
Just popped into my manflued head.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by stevefoster

To search and never find
Is better than not to search
I find
Just popped into my manflued head.

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I like that...reminds me of shakespeares lines "tis better to have loved and lost then never have loved before" or summink like that! :-)

its national poetry day on the 7th october...i wonder how we should mark it....or whether we need to be involved at all?

http://www.nationalpoetryday.co.uk/national-events/

apparently the theme is "home"....knowing this thread we will just do our own thing anyway!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

I like that...reminds me of shakespeares lines "tis better to have loved and lost then never have loved before" or summink like that! :-)

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Summink along them lines;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

its national poetry day on the 7th October.......knowing this thread we will just do our own thing anyway!

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:cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

I think is a pretty stunning poem from the forward book of poetry 2010.


Altogether Elsewhere
Tess Taylor

They multiply, these cities of the heart.
Rooms we stop to rest our bodies in.

Brief beds: One California night
I saw humpbacked coastal ranges,

and scotch-tinged, wet from naked swimming,
woke to smokestacks and dawn in Queens.

Light split the branches of new trees.
Stage set lives implied themselves from props.

Now morning, with its birds, construction sites,
sun on a western feeway, city garden filled

with lavender, with childhood light
this midsummer too will go soon.

O unfinishable rooms,
homes that feel so real so briefly,

I feel you incomplete me, incompletely.

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Good choice freckle, I love those two lines I have highlighted particularly :cool:

Traveling through the Dark


Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.


William Stafford

Sonnet LXIV

My life was tinted purple by so much love,
and I veered helter-skelter like a blinded bird
til I reached your window, my friend:
you heard the murmur of a broken heart.

There from the shaodws I rose to your breast:
without being or knowing, I flew up the towers of wheat,
I surged to life in your hands,
I rose from the sea to your joy.

No one can reckon what I owe you, Love,
what I owe you is lucid, it is like a root
from Arauco, what I owe you, Love.

Clearly, it is like a star, all that I owe you,
what I owe you is like a well in the wilderness
where time watches over the wandering lightning

Pablo Neruda, from 100 Love Sonnets

Oh Gosh...gutwrenching stuff Alf! I loved this but found it really upsetting. It reminds me of two occasions. One when I found the skeleton of a dead roe deer and curled up among the bones was the perfect skeleton of its faun. I think she'd tried to jump the river and broken her leg (probably not used to the extra bulk of her baby). The other was when my friend was driving through the lake district and I was in a car behind and a deer lept out of the woods and straight under the wheels of my friend's camper van. Nothing he could do. He literally didn't know what hit him. I, on the other hand, saw the deer come out via the back wheels and lie gasping and broken in the road. We both stopped, hazards on, and carried her to the woods where she died in front of us with my hand laid on her sweating hot flank. I think I cried until I got to Sedburgh.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Alf

Traveling through the Dark


Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.


William Stafford

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I'm not sure which is more sad, Alf's poem or Hes' stories


They Were Burning Dead Leaves

They were burning dead leaves. Must oozed with scent,
tar bubbled and blew.
The moomlight glow behind the thistle bent
like a torn rainbow.

The street was a forest, night slid into the heart
of deepest autumn.
A guilty music blew the house apart
with its fife and drum.

To have this again, just this, just the once more:
I would sink below
autumnal earth and place my right hand in your
hand like a shadow

Zsuzsa Rakovszky, chosen by Sean O' Brien, for the Hand in Hand collection, edited by Carol Ann Duffy

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Sonnet LXIV

My life was tinted purple by so much love,
and I veered helter-skelter like a blinded bird
til I reached your window, my friend:
you heard the murmur of a broken heart.

There from the shaodws I rose to your breast:
without being or knowing, I flew up the towers of wheat,
I surged to life in your hands,
I rose from the sea to your joy.

No one can reckon what I owe you, Love,
what I owe you is lucid, it is like a root
from Arauco, what I owe you, Love.

Clearly, it is like a star, all that I owe you,
what I owe you is like a well in the wilderness
where time watches over the wandering lightning

Pablo Neruda, from 100 Love Sonnets

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Magnificent - thanks DT. On the same theme:

Rapture

Thought of by you all day, I think of you.
The birds sing in the shelter of a tree.
Above the prayer of rain, unacred blue,
not paradise, goes nowhere endlessly.
How does it happen that our lives can drift
far from ourselves, while we stayed trapped in time,
queuing for death? It seems nothing will shift
the pattern of our days, alter the rhyme
we make with loss to assonance with bliss.
Then love comes, like a sudden flight of birds
from earth to heaven after rain. Your kiss,
recalled, unstrings, like pearls, this chain of words.
Huge skies connect us, joining here to there.
Desire and passion on the thinking air.

CADuffy

Sorry about the sad stories DT! This is a beautiful poem and also really sad...has Alf set the tone for the evening? I think the misty moors and the soaking I got on my bike today have definitely put me in the mood for melancholy. :)

(must check out that anthology you mention)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

I'm not sure which is more sad, Alf's poem or Hes' stories


They Were Burning Dead Leaves

They were burning dead leaves. Must oozed with scent,
tar bubbled and blew.
The moomlight glow behind the thistle bent
like a torn rainbow.

The street was a forest, night slid into the heart
of deepest autumn.
A guilty music blew the house apart
with its fife and drum.

To have this again, just this, just the once more:
I would sink below
autumnal earth and place my right hand in your
hand like a shadow

Zsuzsa Rakovszky, chosen by Sean O' Brien, for the Hand in Hand collection, edited by Carol Ann Duffy

---

death felled a bird
heights touched by her wings
shed silent tears

erode tamizhanban

inky black corvids
wheel, arcing overhead
paired for life

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Alf

Traveling through the Dark


Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.


William Stafford

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this is so very moving Alf.......brought a tear to my eye, thank you for posting

On a different note:

raindrop encrusted
once invisible cobwebs
grace the bloomless gorse

Love it DT!!!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

inky black corvids
wheel, arcing overhead
paired for life

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

raindrop encrusted
once invisible cobwebs
grace the bloomless gorse

---

Lovely Hes :cool:

How's your curlew project progressing?

some beautifully sad and evocative poetry tonight from one and all and some top notch haiku from the masters tonight....which i will name "melancholy night" and by some strange coincidence I am drinking a rather large G and T ( to celebrate the end of a major piece of work today) .....i'll be weeping soon...but hey thats cool!

for jo shapcott fans check out the podcast on this website, an interesting insight into how the poet writes..

http://www.faber.co.uk/author/jo-shapcott/

Really wonderful stuff on here tonight, from all of you. Alf's choice - top notch. Hope you like this Freckle, DT and Hes. It's kind of melancholy.

Rain

I love all films that start with rain:
rain, braiding a windowpane
or darkening a hung-out dress
or streaming down her upturned face;

one big thundering downpour
right through the empty script and score
before the act, before the blame,
before the lens pulls through the frame

to where the woman sits alone
beside a silent telephone
or the dress lies ruined on the grass
or the girl walks off the overpass,

and all things flow out from that source
along their fatal watercourse.
However bad or overlong
such a film can do no wrong,

so when his native twang shows through
or when the boom dips into view
or when her speech starts to betray
its adaptation from the play,

I think to when we opened cold
on a starlit gutter, running gold
with the neon of a drugstore sign
and I'd read into its blazing line:

forget the ink, the milk, the blood –
all was washed clean with the flood
we rose up from the falling waters
the fallen rain's own sons and daughters

and none of this, none of this matters.

Don Paterson

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

this is so very moving Alf.......brought a tear to my eye, thank you for posting

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I think it might be a metaphor for our own "journeys in the dark" in life and the decisions we take.

I did find the comparison of the car and the dead deer with the fawn inside very poignant "under the hood purred the steady engine"

Anyway something a bit lighter from Jo Shapcott :)

Lies

In reality, sheep are brave, enlightened
and sassy. They are walking clouds
and like clouds have forgotten
how to jump. As lambs they knew.
Lambs jump because in their innocence
they still find grass exciting.
Some turf is better for tiptoeing
say lambs. Springy meadows
have curves which invite fits
of bouncing and heel-kicking
to turn flocks of lambs
into demented white spuds boiling in the pot.
Then there is a French style of being a lamb
which involves show and a special touch
at angling the bucking legs. Watch carefully
next time: Lambs love to demonstrate -
you wont have to inveigle.
Eventually, of course, lambs grow trousers
and a blast of wool
which keeps them anchored to the sward.
Then grass is first and foremost
savoury, not palatable.
I prefer the grown sheep: even when damp
she is brave, enlightened and sassy,
her eye a kaleidoscope of hail and farewell,
her tail her most eloquent organ of gesture.
When she speaks, it is to tell me
that she is under a spell, polluted.
Her footwear has been stolen
and the earth rots her feet.
In reality she walks across the sky
upside down in special pumps.

I love that line "into demented white spuds boiling in the pot.":cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

On a different note:

raindrop encrusted
once invisible cobwebs
grace the bloomless gorse

---

That's a lovely autumnal haiku Hes, and again, so well observed. I think there's an old saying which goes something like....'the kissing will stop when the gorse stops flowering...' meaning never!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mossdog

That's a lovely autumnal haiku Hes, and again, so well observed. I think there's an old saying which goes something like....'the kissing will stop when the gorse stops flowering...' meaning never!

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A friend of mine used to say her mother and father joked often that when the gorse was in bloom it was 'kissing time'. They were happily married for many many years :love:

Rab Mountains conquered
Though bitter was the night
Joy at the finish

Thanks Mossy. Think I found the only bushes that had lost their flowers...very poignant, trying not to take it too personally! :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Mossdog

That's a lovely autumnal haiku Hes, and again, so well observed. I think there's an old saying which goes something like....'the kissing will stop when the gorse stops flowering...' meaning never!

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I really like this IDP, especially the middle line. Good to read a fell running haiku again. Well done on the run too.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak

Rab Mountains conquered
Though bitter was the night
Joy at the finish

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a watchful buzzard
resigned to the disturbance
languidly takes off

(nice moorland motorbike ride back from physio. He was semi-impressed with my one-legged squats but thinks my left buttock is still disappointing :) )

a whir of finches
the hedge sparks with red and gold
brightening the mist

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

On a different note:

raindrop encrusted
once invisible cobwebs
grace the bloomless gorse

---

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

I really like this IDP, especially the middle line. Good to read a fell running haiku again. Well done on the run too.

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Ta Hes I like your as well.

Funnily enough my daughter has come home and her home work is on ....

yes haikus, she had to write one with "Shine" in and since the garden has been draped in Dew she wrote this....(with a bit of help)

Glistening raindrops
Shine like fireworks on green grass
Early morning dew

Quote:

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Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak

Ta Hes I like your as well.

Funnily enough my daughter has come home and her home work is on ....

yes haikus, she had to write one with "Shine" in and since the garden has been draped in Dew she wrote this....(with a bit of help)

Glistening raindrops
Shine like fireworks on green grass
Early morning dew

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Love it IDP. Tell her very well done :thumbup:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

a watchful buzzard
resigned to the disturbance
languidly takes off

(nice moorland motorbike ride back from physio. He was semi-impressed with my one-legged squats but thinks my left buttock is still disappointing :) )

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That is a wonderful observation. They do often look resigned when they to have to fly off to another perch.

I'll refrain from commenting on your left buttock. I'll only get into trouble!

"Disapointing left buttock" is a healthy 7-syllable mid-haiku possibility mind you. Now let me think...

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

a whir of finches
the hedge sparks with red and gold
brightening the mist

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Whir of finches is a wonderful line too.

migrating geese skein
coastwards bound for the winter
Pink-footed tourists

Quote:

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Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak

Funnily enough my daughter has come home and her home work is on ....

yes haikus, she had to write one with "Shine" in and since the garden has been draped in Dew she wrote this....(with a bit of help)

Glistening raindrops
Shine like fireworks on green grass
Early morning dew

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What a great bit of homework to have to do. We should pick a word too and send everyone off for 24 hours to think of a haiku with the word.....erm......."fleece"

Feel free to ignore the suggestion if you think it is pants.