Jog with dog
Clear night with nip
And bats in the air
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Jog with dog
Clear night with nip
And bats in the air
Excellent Steve and DT, both very evocative poems :cool:Quote:
Originally Posted by stevefoster
The Railway Children
When we climbed the slopes of the cutting
We were eye-level with the white cups
Of the telegraph poles and the sizzling wires.
Like lovely freehand they curved for miles
East and miles west beyond us, sagging
Under their burden of swallows.
We were small and thought we knew nothing
Worth knowing. We thought words travelled the wires
In the shiny pouches of raindrops,
Each one seeded full with the light
Of the sky, the gleam of the lines, and ourselves
So infinitesimally scaled
We could stream through the eye of a needle.
Seamus Heaney
I like this, it works in more than one way! Hope the nip was from the air...:)
Quote:
Originally Posted by stevefoster
Cheers Alf and Hes, no nip from pooch, she'd already been fed;)
At the Rodin Museum
Rilke is following me everywhere
With his tailor-made suits
And vegetarian smile.
He says because I'm young,
I'm always beginning,
And cannot know love.
He sees how I am a giant piece
Of glass again, trying
To catch the sun.
In remote corners of rooms,
Mountain tops, uncertain
Places of light.
He speaks of the cruelty
Of hospitals, the stillness
Of cathedrals,
Takes me through bodies
And arms and legs
Of extravagant size,
The ncient sky burrows in
With all the dead words
We carry and cannot use.
He holds up mirrors
From which our reflections fall -
Half-battered existences,
Where we lose ourselves
For the sake of the other,
And the others still to come.
Tishani Doshi
Glad to hear it! :)
Quote:
Originally Posted by stevefoster
Hes, I'm really very sorry to hear this, and now I realise my cake comment, meant in fun, was not helpful at all! I'd totally misread the situation.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
So here, by way of apology, is another lovely poem by Kathleen Jamie, just for you
Pipistrelles
In the centre of the sheep-field
a stand of Douglas firs
hold between them, tenderly,
a tall enclosure, like a vase.
How could we have missed it
before today – just never seen
this clear, translucent vessel
tinted like citrine?
What we noticed were pipistrelles:
cinder-like, friable; flickering
the place hained by trees
till the air seemed to quicken,
and the bats were a single
edgy intelligence, testing an idea
for a new form,
which unfolded, cohered
before our eyes. The world’s
mind is such interstices; cells
charging with cool dawn light;
- is that what they were telling us?
- but they vanished, suddenly,
before we’d understood,
and the trees grew in a circle,
elegant and mute.
He he ! Well as we say up north "I am saying nowt!!!" :w00t:Quote:
Originally Posted by Alf
so many good choices on here tonight i can barely keep up...i really loved this one steve, nice little image there of you and your beloved hound :-)Quote:
Originally Posted by stevefoster
That's really sweet of you Mossy, thank you, I'm touched. Its a lovely poem too.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
tangerine sky
moorland gritstone escarpment
contrasting starkly
Really love this. Owls are amazing creatures, 'silent assassin' a perfect description DT x
Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
I'm not sure how to translate Freckle's cheesy poem....it all seemed a bit rude to me....or is that just how my mind works??? :w00t: :o
Explain yourself young lady! :sneaky:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
My guess is that its something to do with hands. And those holding her head (?), waist and <cough> chest. What she doesn't mention is that his (and I'm assuming he is a he ;)) hands look like this:Quote:
Your hands
When your hands go out,
love, toward mine,
what do they bring me flying?
Why did they stop
at my mouth, suddenly,
why do I recognize them
as if then, before,
I had touched them,
as if before they existed
they had passed over
my forehead, my waist?
Their softness came
flying over time,
over the sea, over the smoke,
over the spring,
and when you placed
your hands on my chest,
I recognized those golden
dove wings,
I recognized that clay
and that color of wheat.
All the years of my life
I walked around looking for them.
I went up the stairs,
I crossed the roads,
trains carried me,
waters brought me,
and in the skin of the grapes
I thought I touched you.
The wood suddenly
brought me your touch,
the almond announced to me
your secret softness,
until your hands
closed on my chest
and there like two wings
they ended their journey.
http://www.jezblog.com/images/200904...arthday_dc.jpg
Thanks for the Kathleen Jamie, Mossdog. Lovely. Here's Meg Bateman:
Happiness
with thanks to Neil
Often have I seen them come together,
two old friends, two crofters,
who after a brief murmured greeting
will stand wordlessly together,
side by side, not facing each other,
and look out on the land whose
ways and memories unite them,
breathe in the air, and the scent of
tobacco and damp and lamb scour,
in the certain knowledge that talk
would hamper that expansive communion,
break in on their golden awareness
of all there is between them.
No it was the really cheesy poem I was on about Stolly...the one entitled Raclette! I'm sure it's very rude! :D
Spot on - cheers EinarQuote:
Originally Posted by Einar
This is really beutiful Einar thank you for posting...there is a real gentleness to itQuote:
Originally Posted by Einar
Lord above.....Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
Why my poem is merely a little ink blot
Within it you may spot
Whatever your heart so desires :o
As Don Paterson once said the best poems are slightly vague and leave a great deal of scope for interpretation! anyhow I do hope nothing that I have written causes offence but I plead artistic licence (and imagination) :wink:
Lit Windows
Glyn Maxwell
When I go home again,
when I know so many homes, but I mean the home
with the longest vowel, when I wander the old realm,
I pass them on the lane,
boys turned to men,
so I turn back to a boy
to pass them saying nothing. For it's death
to be where one is not, where every breath
is a heaving of the oars
alone at sea.
I could grow white and old
and I will, I am well aware, grow white and old
looking through lit windows of the world
for people in their rooms;
for the blue, cold
light of a TV on
in an empty room . . . girl at a light so bright
she's silhouette . . . a man who hangs his coat
and stands quite still . . . a mother
agrees with someone
over cake . . . the frosted light
of suppertime, of bathtime, of sex.
I don't have what I have from reading books
but stopping by your homes
to see those sights
to and wondering forever
who is someone else? Who on earth
are all these people to have known this with,
this world? Whole skies of stars
are a lesser wonder
than all your lights at evening,
all your lives. When the lights go out I'm there,
moving on. When it's dark the stars are clear,
their immaterial eyes
believing, disbelieving.
Certainly not offensive Frecks! Ooh la la! xxxQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Phew!Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
Gruyere, cheddar, emmental,Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
none of them hits the spot
but Le raclette gets
to the parts of freckle
that other cheeses do not!
:D
Made me laugh...thanks for that Alf...good stuff that Raclette!!! :w00t: ;) :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Alf
He he he! this is great reminds me of the "biscuit porn" phase on the thread way back....any other rude verse about cheese?Quote:
Originally Posted by Alf
The Ghost
I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
But my heart was full of my new love's glory,
My eyes were laughing and unafraid.
I met one who had loved me madly
And told his love for all to hear --
But we talked of a thousand things together,
The past was buried too deep to fear.
I met the other, whose love was given
With never a kiss and scarcely a word --
Oh, it was then the terror took me
Of words unuttered that breathed and stirred.
Oh, love that lives its life with laughter
Or love that lives its life with tears
Can die -- but love that is never spoken
Goes like a ghost through the winding years. . . .
I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
My heart was full of my new love's glory, --
But my eyes were suddenly afraid.
Sara Teasdale
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SglPhP27u8kQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Yes that Sara Teasdale is a classy chic...bet ya she doesn't write cheesy poems....boom boom (as basil brush once said)Quote:
Originally Posted by Alf
nice one dom!!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by dominion
Open day at secondary school
Excited, nervous little boy
10 years gone so quick
Looks like a good night on the thread, I like the cheesy teasy stuff!
The Sara Teasdale poem was a good choice Alf, it gave me goosebumps and I liked your post Steve, must be very strange to be a parent and watch your littlies becoming adults.
AwwwwwwwwwwQuote:
Originally Posted by stevefoster
The young boy in his uniform
Clean shirt but not for long
His Dad stands tall and ere so proud
His lad ne'er been so strong
The shiny shoes
The starch looked blazer
Before he knows it, his young son
Will be asking for a razor!
Being a keen advocate of biscuit porn poetry, I can't resist the challenge set by Frecks:
Homage to le fromage
when thinking of a cheese
it's very clear to see
its hard to beat the lure
of a ripe and oozing brie
and when the mood is right
and you need a bit of blue
roquefort's so tempting
and perhaps some stilton too
the french don't have it all
when it comes to cheese delight
I love a firm, unyielding cheddar
to give me dreams at night
but the ultimate I've heard
from our Freckle on this thread
is a melting la raclette
served with lots of love and bread
Hmmm....needs a bit of work, I'm off to the fridge for some inspiration...
That's a lovely response MG.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
Ha ha ha ...that is priceless Hes, just priceless....wait til she sees it!!! :D :thumbup:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Aw....brings a tear to the eye...permission for bottom lip to wobble ?Quote:
Originally Posted by stevefoster
nice little poem there MG, Hes hope yer gud!
Utterly brilliant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you are on form gal! i particularly like the bit about a firm unyielding cheddar...Oooer madam!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
now i must go to bed me thinks.... starting to make major typos!
lol xxx
ps.........
Cheese in poetry is not always literal
But sometimes a metaphor
For the trials and tribulations
Of a thing called l’amore
So many bad jokes can be made
About this culinary delight
That I think I’ll err on the side of caution
And bid you all
A very goodnight!
pps biscuits and cheese?......flippin eck.....its all too much! :-)
Nice one MG, not sure about the tall though;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess
[QUOTE=freckle;363800]Utterly brilliant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you are on form gal! i particularly like the bit about a firm unyielding cheddar...Oooer madam!
now i must go to bed me thinks.... starting to make major typos!
lol xxx
In my defence, I didn't start this cheese related filth.
A hot melting fondue's a must
For cheese-porn-related lust
You'll be up all night
With this Swiss delight
Repeatedly dipping your crust.
I'll get me coat....
[QUOTE=Old Whippet;363847]:eek: Lord above!!!! :o:thumbup:Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle