that made me... :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Hes
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that made me... :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Thanks OW....and i hope you have had a pleasant morn tooQuote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
my run was mixed!
here's some more stuff....
My ipod was my running friend
Now replaced by a mental pen
Plod plod, scribble scribble
Unfolds another rhyming riddle
To be worked out in my pea sized brain
Before I go totally insane
on another note....
"We used to be so fecund"
screech the trees.
Pointy branches pricking the sky.
"How much longer before
the mouth of spring moistens?
How long before we open into the green?"
Welcome back HHH...how funny I thought i had acknowledged Yeats!...tee hee! looking forward to more of your offerings and the rest of the gang....
Beeny Cliff
Thomas Hardy
O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,
And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free –
The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.
The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away
In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,
As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.
A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,
And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,
And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.
- Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,
And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,
And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?
What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,
The woman now is - elsewhere - whom the ambling pony bore,
And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.
When you come
When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I CRY.
Maya Angelou
bloody lovely poem but sunday night gloom setting in please someone post something surreal/hilarous/daft etc etc[/I][/B]
You nearly got away with it! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Plod plod, scribble scribble - I like it.
Sometime's it is just a case of writing it down...
Outwitted by a 2-year-old
Please get your foot off the table and eat your tea.
Sorry Daddy.
I can see your foot again – put it down please.
Ok Daddy.
Why are your toes on the table?
So they can see what's going on.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Bloody brilliant! :D :) :D
It was all his own work. He's a smart arse already - I don't know where he gets it from! ;):)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Holywell dene ya big softie!
I was in a reet rage when i turned up
Trainers and a snot coloured Hally Hansen
Holding together a black mood
But your canopy of orange and brown
Mud splattered on my calves
Decomposing leaves amidst flashes of vert
Speak to me....you say
“As long as there is muck beneath those feet
And a stream pacing by
As long as you hear the odd starling or two
And feel the smart of a November chill
You will be you, and you will just be
So pick up your toes, off you go
There’s bairns back home
and cuddles to be had".
not that i am sentimental today AT all...most unbecoming...must get back to "Ariel"
Wow! That's the finest of all the running poems i've read here. Sums up what a clarty (geordie word folks!) run can do for a hacky (and another) mood.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Aha! Just been looking through everyone's contributions and here's a new one to add to the list.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
A new style, same class.
I didn't make it out for a run today, so that's a nice tale from someone who did.
Aye up OW - didn't see you there. Good evening to you.Quote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
thank you OW and HHH for your kind words!!!! i'll not be on here long tonight but looking forward to lots of offerings to catch up on later dear pals :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
After today's events at the dinner table I was trying to find something similar that Michael Rosen once did. Couldn't find what I wanted but came across this instead which Iliked.
Words Are Ours
In the beginning was the word
and the word is ours:
the names of places,
the names of flowers,
the names of names,
words are ours.
Page-turners
for early-learners
How to boil an egg
or mend a leg
Words are ours
Wall-charts
Love hearts
Sports reports
Short retorts
Jam-jar labels
Timetables
Words are ours
Following the instructions
for furniture constructions
Ancient mythologies
Online anthologies
Who she wrote for
Who to vote for
Joke collections
Results of elections
Words are ours
The tale's got you gripped
Have you learned your script?
The method of an Experiment
Ingredients for merriment
W8n 4ur txt
Re: whts nxt
Print media
Wikipedia
Words are ours
Sub-titles on TV
Details on your cv
Book of great speeches
Guide to the best beaches
Looking for chapters
on velociraptors
Words are ours
The mystery of history
The history of mystery
The views of news
The news of views
Words to explain
the words for pain.
doing geography
Autobiography
What to do in pay-phones
Goodbyes on gravestones
Words are ours.
What makes you smile, what makes you happy,
Wind, rain, sunshine, snow, whatever,
Keep going till your days end
Love to run, love to cycle, love being outdoors, gives me clarity of mind, which is more than this forum does:D
I was talking to somebody about poetry and meaning the other day, and death of the author and all that, and I remembered this one (Billy Collins):
"I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means."
Hiya Mud, long time no speak. We never did end up meeting after all, and I'm certainly not doing that bloody triathlon again. :) Hope you are well.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mud
I like your choice. Torture and waterskiiing in one poem. It has it all. Plus deeper meaning of course.
I'll have to read up on your link. Looks interesting.
Hiya HHH. I did spot the Sportchestra ones when you posted them...
Peat bogs, peat bogs, more peat bogsQuote:
Originally Posted by Mud
You'd never credit it
They turn this wet stuff into logs
or something like that I seem to remember.
I was looking for these lyrics when I found the earlier ones.
Evening everyone, it looks like I need to give up work in order to keep up with all this great poetry being posted. I didn't get to run today as I spent it teaching people to make prints but they were an inspirational bunch so maybe I should write one about that.
Hiya there,Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I bet they all had a good day. We'll have to do a forum print making day some time.
Sounds like a lovely day. You give me thoughts of Andy Goldsworthy there. My favourite artist, (Apart from Hes of course:))
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mud
Yesterday I spent the windiest day in the world on a snow-like sandy beach with people I love, making footprints in the drifts and watching them be smoothed and vanished. We might never have been there, except that we know it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Now, when it snows in the spring I'm going to take a cold sunny bucket and make sandcastles in the whiteness, and between then and now I may even get round to a little poem about it.
That's lovely Mud. What a beautiful thing to do. If I may suggest something, when you make snow castles...have a go at pressing your face into the snow. Sounds mad and uncomfortable but you're a fell runner so that is nothing new. You can make the most amazing prints and if you photograph them with strong sunlight they look like they are three dimensional. I'll try and post one...
ohhh this is lovely too. Andy Goldsworthy is one of my favourite artists too. I write abut him for part of my dissertation.Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
You cheated and kept your hat on!Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
ha ha ha...didn't tell you what other parts of my body I did though did I? Suffice to say, it was very tingly on bare flesh and I am glad I was on my own.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mud
Wow!!!!!!! that's amazing Hes! like this little discussion but alas have to go and do boring ol ironing, laters :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Now I've regained my composure, I wonder what print this guy made.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
http://i.ehow.com/images/GlobalPhoto...-main_Full.jpg
:eek: a bigger one than me!!!:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
i am looking forward to the poem mud......Quote:
Originally Posted by Mud
ha ha.....I don't doubt that for a second. ;):DQuote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Ok guys, I do hope this isn't too awful. I'd have liked to have gone running today and written about that but instead I had a class of eight people, mostly artists but two total beginners and one of them (the only guy in the class) made the most beautiful sensitive print:
The print class
You sit before me nervous,
Say you are no good at art
You can’t draw a straight line
You don’t know where to start.
I give you tools, I give you card
I tell you what I know
I show you what I love to do
I watch your interest grow.
You take the knife and make a cut
Your brow is deeply creased
With concentration, dedication
Creativity’s released.
I pass the inks, you wipe the plate
I watch in quiet pride
You soak the paper, set the press
The bed begins to glide.
You roll it through, I raise the felts
Your nerves are fast returning
You lift the plate, we hold our breaths
The anticipation burning.
The plate is up, the print revealed
The image crisp and true
Your turn to me with widening grin
I’m feel so pleased for you.
The class crowds round, they cheer and clap,
You thank me more and more
Its down to you, you hold the key,
I just unlock the door.
love it merry :)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
How lovely and what an inspiring day you have had! to facilitate creativity in another is such a gift, you should be proud of yersel Hes :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I know there is a lot of positive feeling on this thread, and praise is a plenty, but you must believe me when I say that is genuinely lovely. And pretty swift too. Rhyming stuff takes me ages.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I bet they had a great day they'll remenber for a long time.
I also understand a little more about printmaking, so when you said the other day that you were off to make the plates for your newt piece, you weren't about to set off making pottery like I thought!
you are too kind Freckle....I managed to get a typo in but nevermind...it is a bit cheesy but poetry is damn hard and I find writing about mud and nature easier. Going to look for some stuff by the professionals now.
I have been making typos all day!!!!!!! still doin the flaming ironing so back in a bit to peruse :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I've said it before but you do make me laugh!:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
I've been thinking about the spirit of fell running theme, so I trawled through a thread or two for some inspiration. All I've done is edited some lines slightly and added a couple of my own. By no means a finished piece - haven't really decided what form it might take really - but I thought you might like some of the comments, and even add some too. Take it and run with it.
The Spirit of Fellrunning
Just turning up at a race, paying a few quid, and running
Borrowing a pair of shoes off a stranger to race in
New races starting, old ones dying
Waiting for the hounds to come in before setting off
“Race you to the top of that hill and back lads”
Helping on a Bob Graham leg for someone you don’t know
Just being in the mountains.
It takes me back to beinga boy- just me and my dad
Giving it your all, getting covered in mud
At odds with a risk adverse society
Juniors disappearing, come back at 40
A desire to lose oneself in the hills – whether by design or not
It isn’t all about the racing – the racing has changed, the running hasn’t
Whether the sport grows, withers or dies – that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the fells will always be there for those who appreciate them
A sense of place, of territory, or the connection between man and the land, the fact that you discover something new about the country, and yourself, each time you run.
Feeling naked amid your surroundings. Free from the world.
I can be on my monday morning meat wagon to Central London, close my eyes and see myself bounding over Green Gable
A tasty post-race, post-bath glass of Laphroig.
The welcoming attitude that all of you show to new members
Running solo in the hills. How can that not be free spirited?
The isolation, the beauty, the slightly bonkersness of it
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes alone, sometimes with company.
No barriers for anyone who wants to take the sport up.
The people - competitors, organisers, supporters - are welcoming and friendly