passion seems to be a common phenomena on this here thread...that's poets for ya! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
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passion seems to be a common phenomena on this here thread...that's poets for ya! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Here is another one from "ten poems to change your life"
The Time Before Death
by Kabir
Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think... and think... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time
before death.
If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,
do you think
ghosts will do it after?
The idea that the soul will rejoin with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten--
that is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the
City of Death.
If you make love with the divine now, in the next
life you will have the face of satisfied desire.
So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!
Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for,
it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that
does all the work.Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.
Nearly on the fells; well I knew they were somewhere over there on my headtorch-half-hour.Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Nice to get out after a hectic week, and now I've got my glass of red it is all the better still.
Freecycle exchange
Thank you. Better drink it quick
It might just go off.
Demolition
We can drop this building into a biscuit tin,
all forty storeys, everything's planned,
down to the last inch: the pre-repairs,
the pattern of charges:
nitro-glycerine, dynamite, RDX.
We study it for days,
from high ground or the tops of other buildings,
sorting our delay paths, checking sequences from other jobs. It's an intuition. A sixth sense.
We take the whole thing down in our heads.
Then we begin:
control the velocity of failure,
let each part of the structure disintegrate
at a different speed - we can make it
walk down the road, like a zombie.
We can turn it around, drop it ten storeys
then stop it, dead; waltz it out of a corner
then lay it down in the road,
like a golem tired of standing.
After it's done, we check the debris,
the fragmentation pattern, see how neat
we've been. This is downtown Baltimore
and you can't move for skyscrapers, cars,
pedestrians. There isn't a scar, a stone
out of place. The air is clear,
hardly a stir of dust
and the birds are singing.
It's like nothing has happened.
Neil Rollinson
It made me laugh when I found it as it was with other poems that were generally about the opposite of things falling down! But it was nice to find a poem about a line of work I have been involved in before now. It must be one of very few.
Hey HHH...just about to pour a glass of vino too!....when i saw the rollinson poem title I thought "hey that's my title" then i realised you hadn't written it! ...tee hee...your run sounds fab...been out for a little one myself tonight...
disattach yourself from outcome
simply place one foot
front(in) of the other
back to where i begun
soothed by familiar motion
life changes but running remains
(whilst it can)
slurp........:)
ps i hope everyone reading enjoys some quality bits of running this weekend....
I think everyone has nicked off...well nearly everyone...well it is friday night after all...hey ho...i think i will post this anyhow...from ten poems again...hope you enjoy :)
part of the analysis of this poem in the book states:
"Rumi is urging us not to demean or abase orselves, but to be willing to stand with our jaw dropped open, dumbfounded and helpless before the immensity, the impossibility of our lives..... Our jaw rarely drops because we don't want to be suceptible to unknown, unsuspected circumstances that can blow in at any moment from any angle. Except that we are, and we know we are-all the time-which is why we hang on so tightly. We stay busy, we keep our focus narrow and the windows shut."
Zero Circle
Rumi
Be helpless, dumbfounded
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace
to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we're lying.
If we say No, we don't see it,
that No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.
So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.
eggs and faces
trying to be disciplined
trying not to miss
trying not to see distance
trying to imagine strength
(not a further permutation)
trying to hear love
sometimes succeeding
sometimes failing
thinking about eggs
and faces
ok ok i get the picture...its like the flaming western front out there tonight!....
Determination
comes in the form of
a
s(s)p(u)o(n)t
bye for now folks......have a nice weekend xxx
Not quite on your own freckle...
I Am Vertical
But I would rather be horizontal.
I am not a tree with my root in the soil
Sucking up minerals and motherly love
So that each March I may gleam into leaf,
Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed
Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted,
Unknowing I must soon unpetal.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal
And a flower-head not tall, but more startling,
And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimallight of the stars,
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors.
I walk among them, but none of them are noticing.
Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping
I must most perfectly resemble them--
Thoughts gone dim.
It is more natural to me, lying down.
Then the sky and I are in open conversation,
And I shall be useful when I lie down finally:
Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
A bit of somberness on a friday night eh! Can't beat it.
Forgot to say...one of our Sylvia's, but you probably guessed that already!
Love Sonnet XVII
by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Sweet or what?
Wow...I'm the only person on the entire forum!!! I could go and write on every thread and make a bid for forum domination except that doesn't interest me. My loyalty lies here and with all your great posts this evening. I loved the Neruda, Mossdog; the Rollinson HHH and Freckle's lovely poems to change your life. Poetry does indeed change your life! Off for a few hours sleep.
Hey Mossy, we are always missing each other !...i loved your two poems just gorgeous..thank you..
Hes...i think it woudl be great if you were some kind of forum despot, but a bit tiring and it might take you away from your art! so in the spirit of your beautiful creativity I do hope you got some shut eye!
right cuppa now, then quick search for a poem to post....:)
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mossdog
Suicide in 9 easy steps.
Tears,anguish,dread.
Thoughts,action,knife.
Slice,bleed,dead.
By Matt Harmston.
morning tri...as usual an elegant piece from you well done...
Last night as i was sleeping
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.
Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt -- marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.
Antonio Machado
could always replace God with something else if an atheist like me!!!!!
sunlit homebound drive
paint splattered ewes graze wet turf
redwing flock scatters
what a beautiful image DT thank you for sharing it with us.......:)Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
I love those Neruda Sonnets Mossy! :cool:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
speaking of which, how apt is this like?...dedicated to all those who frequent this thread....:)
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 </B>
Gorgeous DT! Wow, only 11.50am and already some amazing poetry to start the day. Tri-mind, powerful stuff! Freckle, we are on the same wavelength again...whilst looking for a poem that I hope to post later, I came upon this by Edward Thomas and thought it was relevant for the thread:Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Words
Out of us all
That make rhymes
Will you choose
Sometimes -
As the winds use
A crack in a wall
Or a drain,
Their joy or their pain
To whistle through -
Choose me,
You English words?
I know you:
You are light as dreams,
Tough as oak,
Precious as gold,
As poppies and corn,
Or an old cloak:
Sweet as our birds
To the ear,
As the burnet rose
In the heat
Of Midsummer:
Strange as the races
Of dead and unborn:
Strange and sweet
Equally,
And familiar,
To the eye,
As the dearest faces
That a man knows,
And as lost homes are:
But though older far
Than oldest yew, -
As our hills are, old, -
Worn new
Again and again:
Young as our streams
After rain:
And as dear
As the earth which you prove
That we love.
Make me content
With some sweetness
From Wales
Whose nightingales
Have no wings, -
From Wiltshire and Kent
And Herefordshire, -
And the villages there, -
From the names, and the things
No less.
Let me sometimes dance
With you,
Or climb
Or stand perchance
In ecstasy,
Fixed and free
In a rhyme,
As poets do.
High Cup Nick, Aniversary Waltz,
Allendale Challenge, Windy Gyle, Cheviot Summit,
Chevy Chase or Wasdale Horseshoe, Borrowdale, Ben Nevis (if i can get in)
Langdale, Simonside and what ever the club decides for the championships.
Not a poem, but this poets provisional intentions for next year.....any of you poetic scamperers drinking beer before or after (not during - even I have some standards) these races???
E.C.T.
Electrodes placed upon my head,
Wires criss, crossing snaking away from me,
This won't hurt a bit the doctor said,
Strapped down acutely aware of my vulnerability.
Flash the whole world go white my head explodes,
And again a lightning strike i think i might die,
I can't reach up to remove these bloody electrodes,
The things they do to make me "better" i'm starting to ask why.
Why push all those volts through me,
Is it to cure my insanity,
I'm starting to view my treatment with dread,
Questioning whether it's them or me whose wrong in the head.
Just posted this fun little ditty on my facebook page :D
T'was the night before Tankies
...and all through the peak.
No one was running!
They were resting there feet.
For Tomorrow bring's heart ache
21 miles of pain
over Blackhill and Bleaklow
it might even rain.
but then there's Seal Edge
a hell of a climb..
to get to the crossing.
then down to the line.
and there at the finish
we'll all tell tall tales
of the running of Tanky's
over a glass of fine 'Ale'
how lovely hes...thanx for posting..sweet :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
i love this iandarkpeak! great!...tri another classic with a good question at the end.....ow...if i did a fraction of those races next year i would be happy but would like to do allendale, anniversary waltz, cheviot challenge and simonside if pos :)
Quote:
Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak
Brilliant Ian! :cool:Quote:
Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak
Right off out in a minute....so checking back in tomorrow, stevie has got my interested in armitage now so here is a cynical little number from him....happy saturday night everyone!
And if it snowed and snow covered the drive
he took a spade and tossed it to one side.
And always tucked his daughter up at night
And slippered her the one time that she lied.
And every week he tipped up half his wage.
And what he didn't spend each week he saved.
And praised his wife for every meal she made.
And once, for laughing, punched her in the face.
And for his mum he hired a private nurse.
And every Sunday taxied her to church.
And he blubbed when she went from bad to worse.
And twice he lifted ten quid from her purse.
Here's how they rated him when they looked back:
sometimes he did this, sometimes he did that.
Simon Armitage </B>
Medication.
Two tablets of lithium 1000 mg,
To keep me level emotionally,
Venlafaxine two capsules 300 mg and red,
To stop me from going off of my head,
Lastly four tablets 250 mg of seroquel,
To stop me seeing gargoyles and creatures from hell,
This is what it takes everyday to keep me sane,
Shhh don't tell the doctors i pour them down the drain.
By Matt Harmston
Disclaimer: All above is true except for the last line in case my consultant is reading this.
Quote:
Originally Posted by tri-mind
Let's hope he / she isn't - but it would be cool to have a fell running consultant though!
Well t-m - it's your health and I'm sure you know how to best manage it.
Dr Whippet's prescription is as follows:
2 Mudclaws - wear weekly at minimum, and as required at other times.
Fell races - doses vary from BS to AL. Vary dose throughout year, and take at least monthly.
Poetry - as required; for agitation, depression, despondency and other symptoms. (safe in overdose). Can also be used recreationally.
Thankfully, there are no adverse interactions or contra-indications recorded for these treatments with those mentioned in your last poem.
All the best.
Dr Whippet (I presume).
lordy - I forgot this is a poetry corner.
Old Whippet is in a hurry
Out with his mates for a curry
With a hot vindaloo
And a strong pint or too
Tomorrow's long run is a worry.
if in doubt - limerick
Back later.
Interesting last point there Freckle. At one time I would have worried about referencing "God", (assume it is the Christian / Jewish / Muslim one that most of us think about when that term is used for now), as I would have considered it a nod to the acknowledgement of its existance when clearly there is insufficient evidence to the existance of any supernatural sky god. (I'd love Thor to be real by the way. He'd be great at parties!) But "God" is so part of our culture whether in poetry, song or architecture that it is hard not to stumble upon references. Being a non believer doesn't stop me loving great poetry, or amazing church architecture, or Christmas carols for that matter. And if asked how I can I possibly do that, I normally reply: "Well, I can watch Coronation Street without believing that any of it is true."Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Nice one DT. I looked at that and thought that your middle line is never 7; but by jove it is! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Splattered is not the most poetic word in the English language but is good 'value' in haiku! ;)
Quote:
Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
I just bought "Best Poems on the Underground" today and I'd chosen this very one to share tonight. But you jolly went and beat me to it.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
So I'll share this one instead...
Happiness
A state you dare not enter
with hopes of staying,
quicksand in the marshes, and all
the roads leading to a castle
that doesn’t exist.
But there it is, as promised,
with its perfect bridge above
the crocodiles,
and its doors forever open.
Stephen Dunn
ha ha. What other good value words are out there. We'll have to see how many letters we can possibly fit in one haiku.Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Maybe later, I'm still catching up from last night.
Quite right it can alter life's course! All for the better I hope.Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
I ordered 10 poems to change your life last night off ebay, but at this rate I'll have heard them all before it arrives! :D
That could easily become a poem OW, there are some very poetic-sounding hills and races out there. I've only done AW once but loved the whole atmosphere, (and still have the mug), so I would like to do it again, and Langdale was one of my favourite ever races. It wasn't my best ever result, but it was one of the performances I was most proud of. Like most years I'll just wing it, which means missing out of most of the heavily subscribed pre entry ones, but hey ho. There are plenty of great races out there.Quote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
We should organise a Fell Poets Society Club Champs.
I like your sense of humour TM.Quote:
Originally Posted by tri-mind
"If in doubt - Limerick" is my favourite quote of the day. :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Old Whippet
This one tickled me...
The uncertainty of the poet - Wendy Cope
I am a poet,
I am very fond of bananas.
I am bananas,
I am very fond of a poet.
I am a poet of bananas.
I am very fond.
A fond poet of 'I am, I am' -
Very bananas.
Fond of Am I bananas?
Am I? - a very poet.
Bananas of a poet!
Am I fond? Am I very?
Poet bananas! I am
I am fond of a 'very'.
I am of very fond bananas.
Am I a poet?
http://www.artknowledgenews.com/file...heUncertai.jpg