Today's poet

Last commission finished, four pictures to frame, two Gazette columns to write, a rucksack to pack and a whole lot of procrastination to do:

Last flower blooms
dust settling, a brief pause
a lull in the storm

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Dr H Tool

Gosh if you people put as much effort into training as you do into this thread you would be winning!!!!!!!!!

PS:-) that isn't supposed to be prose!!!

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Ha ha...good point Doc! A lot of it is written 'on the hoof' though and there are certain poets here that win regularly...alas not me, but maybe next year with my new improved fell training and race schedule:D.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Tides - Jenny Joseph


There are some coasts
Where the sea comes in spectacularly
Throwing itself up gullies, challenging cliffs,
Filling the harbours with great swirls and flourish,
A theatrical event that people gather for
Curtain up twice daily. You need to know
The hour of its starting, you have to be on guard.

There are other places
Places where you do not really notice
The gradual stretch of the fertile silk of water
No gurgling or dashings here, no froth no pounding
Only at some point the echo may sound different
And looking by chance one sees ‘Oh the tide is in.’

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This is gorgeous. I am only really familar with her poem on aging which is brilliant.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Heavy legs scale groins
Beach puddles galore
Freckle returns 2nd lady
(but only out of 4!!!!!)

bit of a slow one from me at blyth sands but what a lovely little race and a lovely crowd of people...very uplifting!....

OW and HHH .....ahem........:eek:
Hes...good luck with the final preparations....not long now....

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Well done Freckle! Running on the sand was something I was thinking I may be able to get away with in India without causing too much of a stir. Wish I could have joined you today. As for OW and HHH, you boys sound like you shared a memorable moment;) Right, cuppa finished, framing to do, seeya later.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

Last commission finished, four pictures to frame, two Gazette columns to write, a rucksack to pack and a whole lot of procrastination to do:

Last flower blooms
dust settling, a brief pause
a lull in the storm

---

Nice one Hes, we were all rooting for you to get finished in time!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hes

This is gorgeous. I am only really familar with her poem on aging which is brilliant.

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I'm enjoying reading the best poems on the underground book. Some, like this one just jump out. It will take months if I post one a day of the ones I like.. We'll still be here when you get back.

Have a great trip if I don't get chance to say so again before you go.

all the best

Harry

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Don't worry OW, I can fill in the gaps...

Old Whippet went out for a beer,
Had too many, and felt a tad queer.
Was he skunk as a drunk?
Maybe drunk as a skunk?
He's not sure, but he'll blame Germain Greer.

---

Very, very well done HHH:D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

The Buried Life
Matthew Arnold

Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there's a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.
Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal'd
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved
Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves—and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love!—doth a like spell benumb
Our hearts, our voices?—must we too be dumb?

Ah! well for us, if even we,
Even for a moment, can get free
Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd;
For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!

Fate, which foresaw
How frivolous a baby man would be—
By what distractions he would be possess'd,
How he would pour himself in every strife,
And well-nigh change his own identity—
That it might keep from his capricious play
His genuine self, and force him to obey
Even in his own despite his being's law,
Bade through the deep recesses of our breast
The unregarded river of our life
Pursue with indiscernible flow its way;
And that we should not see
The buried stream, and seem to be
Eddying at large in blind uncertainty,
Though driving on with it eternally.

But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us—to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
And many a man in his own breast then delves,
But deep enough, alas! none ever mines.
And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves—
Hardly had skill to utter one of all
The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
But they course on for ever unexpress'd.
And long we try in vain to speak and act
Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well—but 't#is not true!
And then we will no more be rack'd
With inward striving, and demand
Of all the thousand nothings of the hour
Their stupefying power;
Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
From the soul's subterranean depth upborne
As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
A melancholy into all our day.
Only—but this is rare—
When a belov{'e}d hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
When our world-deafen'd ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd—
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
A man becomes aware of his life's flow,
And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.

And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, rest.
An air of coolness plays upon his face,
And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.
And then he thinks he knows
The hills where his life rose,
And the sea where it goes.

---

Phew! What an epic. But I like it - thank you. And well done re the race/run by the way.

thanx mossy!.......on both counts :-)

An Everyday Choice

Been feelin' funny today,
Not myself in the usual way,
Somethin' crawlin' into my mind,
I know the Black dog is not far behind.

The black dog drags me off to it's lair,
Nothin' but pain and death lies there,
Why do i have to go thru' this again,
So much of my life lost to this pain.

A black hole of despair so empty and vast,
Every time it envelopes me it could be my last,
All of this sorrow it's hard to stay sane,
Time to choose between life and death again.

By Matt Harmston

He's, have a great trip and post some poetry please if you get chance! :cool:

tri mind..great work i always love your observations about the mind and its struggles

hes...not sure i will be on much tonight so in case i'm not here is wishing you a wonderful trip and like DT hope you can post but if not enjoy the break! look forward to hearing all on your return, take care :)

Longing

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Matthew Arnold </B>

I'm Suicidal let me out of here.

That's 2 votes for eric and 8 votes for me,
It's seems i've been chosen by the good and the great,
Cameras' everywhere for all the world to see,
I better meet the hosts before it's too late.

I've got the choice of a rope or a knife,
Eight million viewers i'm a T.V. success,
Nearly time now say goodbye to my wife,
To all of the public i speak my address.

Ten million pounds the family set up for life,
Now it's my time i say goodbye to my camp mate,
Then up to my neck i place the knife,
I am now ending my life not leaving it to fate.

By Matthew Harmston

Farewell soon dear Hes,
Merry Christmas and New Year
Keep us posted lass.

Am I right in thinking that there has been 2426 post without any Ivor Cutler? Lets put that right.
Cant find anything i can cut and paste - but it wouldn't be the same without the voice of the geat man anyway, would it.

IVOR CUTLER "Looking for truth with a pin"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay_0_nWu8rw&feature=fvw


Hes - is this your last night with us?
If so, bon voyage and keep in touch.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Farewell soon dear Hes,
Merry Christmas and New Year
Keep us posted lass.

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Awww HHH you will make me cry!

I'm fully intending to keep up the international poetry theme but should I get kidnapped by bandits and sold into slavery or just lost...(I did do the FRA navigation course but I haven't put it into practise yet) I'll say now that I hope you all have a wonderful festive season and that 2010 will be a year of love, happiness, lots of fell running and even more poetry!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Am I right in thinking that there has been 2426 post without any Ivor Cutler? Lets put that right.
Cant find anything i can cut and paste - but it wouldn't be the same without the voice of the geat man anyway, would it.

IVOR CUTLER "Looking for truth with a pin"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay_0_nWu8rw&feature=fvw


Hes - is this your last night with us?
If so, bon voyage and keep in touch.

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I'm listening to Ivor as I type. Brilliant OW. It is my last night and I'll be coming and going as I haven't packed yet or finished my admin. I am fully expecting to post some heartfelt poems in the wee hours!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by tri-mind

I'm Suicidal let me out of here.

That's 2 votes for eric and 8 votes for me,
It's seems i've been chosen by the good and the great,
Cameras' everywhere for all the world to see,
I better meet the hosts before it's too late.

I've got the choice of a rope or a knife,
Eight million viewers i'm a T.V. success,
Nearly time now say goodbye to my wife,
To all of the public i speak my address.

Ten million pounds the family set up for life,
Now it's my time i say goodbye to my camp mate,
Then up to my neck i place the knife,
I am now ending my life not leaving it to fate.

By Matthew Harmston

---

Your last few poems have been incredible Tri-mind. I do hope that you can keep that black dog at bay. My money is on you outrunning it and getting that book published.

Wow, Ivor Cutler :cool: Used to love it when John Peel had him on his show :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Awww HHH you will make me cry!

I'm fully intending to keep up the international poetry theme but should I get kidnapped by bandits and sold into slavery or just lost...(I did do the FRA navigation course but I haven't put it into practise yet) I'll say now that I hope you all have a wonderful festive season and that 2010 will be a year of love, happiness, lots of fell running and even more poetry!

---

You are off to the Empire dear girl. You must keep that stiff upper lip intact. Her majesty (that's Freckle btw) expects nothing less. :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

Wow, Ivor Cutler :cool: Used to love it when John Peel had him on his show :)

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Life in a Scotch Sitting Room Vol 2 :cool:

wow...i had never heard of this guy...this is really special thanks for posting OW :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Old Whippet

Am I right in thinking that there has been 2426 post without any Ivor Cutler? Lets put that right.
Cant find anything i can cut and paste - but it wouldn't be the same without the voice of the geat man anyway, would it.

IVOR CUTLER "Looking for truth with a pin"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay_0_nWu8rw&feature=fvw


Hes - is this your last night with us?
If so, bon voyage and keep in touch.

---

When I Met My Muse

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.

William Stafford

The Present - Michael Donaghy

For the present there is just one moon,
though every level pond gives back another.
But the bright disc shining in the black lagoon,
perceived by astrophysicist and lover,
is milliseconds old. And even that light’s
seven minutes older than its source.
And the stars we think we see on moonless nights
are long extinguished. And, of course,
this very moment, as you read this line,
is literally gone before you know it.
Forget the here-and-now. We have no time
but this device of wantonness and wit.
Make me this present then: your hand in mine,
and we’ll live out our lives in it.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

When I Met My Muse

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.

William Stafford

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wow mossy..another great find...just inspiring! love it!...

So many different lengths of time
by Brian Patten

How long does a man live after all?
A thousand days or only one?
One week or a few centuries?
How long does a man spend living or dying
and what do we mean when we say gone forever?

Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.
We can go to the philosophers
but they will weary of our questions.
We can go to the priests and rabbis
but they night be busy with administrations.

So, how long does a man live after all?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret and ask so many questions -
then when it comes to us
the answer is so simple after all.

A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
for as long as we ourselves live,
holding memories in common, a man lives.

His lover will carry his man's scent, his touch:
his children will carry the weight of his love.
One friend will carry his arguments,
another will hum his favourite tunes,
another will still share his terrors.

And the days will pass with baffled faces,
then the weeks, then the months,
then there will be a day when no question is asked,
and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomach
and the puffed faces will calm.
And on that day he will not have ceased
but will have ceased to be separated by death.

How long does a man live after all?
A man lives so may different lengths of time.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

The Present - Michael Donaghy

For the present there is just one moon,
though every level pond gives back another.
But the bright disc shining in the black lagoon,
perceived by astrophysicist and lover,
is milliseconds old. And even that light’s
seven minutes older than its source.
And the stars we think we see on moonless nights
are long extinguished. And, of course,
this very moment, as you read this line,
is literally gone before you know it.
Forget the here-and-now. We have no time
but this device of wantonness and wit.
Make me this present then: your hand in mine,
and we’ll live out our lives in it.

---

Mmmm think me and you are on the same wavelength HHH!!!! what a lovely awe inspiring bit of poetry..thank you for posting :)

Sometimes

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes step back from war;
elect an honest man; decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen: may it happen to you

~ Sheenagh Pugh ~

Quote:

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Originally Posted by freckle

Mmmm think me and you are on the same wavelength HHH!!!! what a lovely awe inspiring bit of poetry..thank you for posting :)

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It is an evening for reflection.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by freckle

So many different lengths of time
by Brian Patten

How long does a man live after all?
A thousand days or only one?
One week or a few centuries?
How long does a man spend living or dying
and what do we mean when we say gone forever?

Adrift in such preoccupations, we seek clarification.
We can go to the philosophers
but they will weary of our questions.
We can go to the priests and rabbis
but they night be busy with administrations.

So, how long does a man live after all?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret and ask so many questions -
then when it comes to us
the answer is so simple after all.

A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
for as long as we ourselves live,
holding memories in common, a man lives.

His lover will carry his man's scent, his touch:
his children will carry the weight of his love.
One friend will carry his arguments,
another will hum his favourite tunes,
another will still share his terrors.

And the days will pass with baffled faces,
then the weeks, then the months,
then there will be a day when no question is asked,
and the knots of grief will loosen in the stomach
and the puffed faces will calm.
And on that day he will not have ceased
but will have ceased to be separated by death.

How long does a man live after all?
A man lives so may different lengths of time.

---

Ummmm :o don't want to spoil the tone but....mmmmm....I found this one and after all that 'what does a man....' stuff thought i'd inject (oh dear, very wrong verb) a bit of female perspective, perhaps....:o


redundant female orgasm

Although the pleasure often is abundant,
the female orgasm is quite redundant,
unlike the male’s, which with ejaculation
redeems the member’s seminal inflation.
It’s very hard, with each vaginal vigil,
to reach a climax in what is vestigial,
so many women are prepared to fake
what they believe is icing on the cake
until they’ve had one, which can make the icing
apparent with a veritable high-sing.

The fact that women do not always climax
when they attempt to make a mini-guy max
is something that for many of them bitter is
until they focus on their tiny clitoris,
because for most of them the verdict’s final:
clitoridal is better than vaginal.
Although that seems to be a fact of life
which mistresses don’t need to know, a wife
should make quite sure she knows about these data,
her lazy man less useful than vibrator.

Gershon Hepner

sorry...but 'unusual poem'...:o

Elizabeth Jennings - Delay

The radiance of the star that leans on me
Was shining years ago. The light that now
Glitters up there my eyes may never see,
And so the time lag teases me with how

Love that loves now may not reach me until
Its first desire is spent. The star's impulse
Must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful
And love arrived may find us somewhere else.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Ummmm :o don't want to spoil the tone but....mmmmm....I found this one and after all that 'what does a man....' stuff thought i'd inject (oh dear, very wrong verb) a bit of female perspective, perhaps....:o


redundant female orgasm

Although the pleasure often is abundant,
the female orgasm is quite redundant,
unlike the male’s, which with ejaculation
redeems the member’s seminal inflation.
It’s very hard, with each vaginal vigil,
to reach a climax in what is vestigial,
so many women are prepared to fake
what they believe is icing on the cake
until they’ve had one, which can make the icing
apparent with a veritable high-sing.

The fact that women do not always climax
when they attempt to make a mini-guy max
is something that for many of them bitter is
until they focus on their tiny clitoris,
because for most of them the verdict’s final:
clitoridal is better than vaginal.
Although that seems to be a fact of life
which mistresses don’t need to know, a wife
should make quite sure she knows about these data,
her lazy man less useful than vibrator.

Gershon Hepner

sorry...but 'unusual poem'...:o

---

No need for embarassment. We take allcomers here.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Ummmm :o don't want to spoil the tone but....mmmmm....I found this one and after all that 'what does a man....' stuff thought i'd inject (oh dear, very wrong verb) a bit of female perspective, perhaps....:o


redundant female orgasm

Although the pleasure often is abundant,
the female orgasm is quite redundant,
unlike the male’s, which with ejaculation
redeems the member’s seminal inflation.
It’s very hard, with each vaginal vigil,
to reach a climax in what is vestigial,
so many women are prepared to fake
what they believe is icing on the cake
until they’ve had one, which can make the icing
apparent with a veritable high-sing.

The fact that women do not always climax
when they attempt to make a mini-guy max
is something that for many of them bitter is
until they focus on their tiny clitoris,
because for most of them the verdict’s final:
clitoridal is better than vaginal.
Although that seems to be a fact of life
which mistresses don’t need to know, a wife
should make quite sure she knows about these data,
her lazy man less useful than vibrator.

Gershon Hepner

sorry...but 'unusual poem'...:o

---

A very dense and thought provoking poem....one to re read and digest i think....nice one Mossy....

Coda by Louis MacNeice


Maybe we knew each other better
When the night was young and unrepeated
And the moon stood still over Jericho.

So much for the past; in the present
There are moments caught between heart-beats
When maybe we know each other better.

But what is that clinking in the darkness?
Maybe we shall know each other better
When the tunnels meet beneath the mountain.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

Coda by Louis MacNeice


Maybe we knew each other better
When the night was young and unrepeated
And the moon stood still over Jericho.

So much for the past; in the present
There are moments caught between heart-beats
When maybe we know each other better.

But what is that clinking in the darkness?
Maybe we shall know each other better
When the tunnels meet beneath the mountain.

---

so evocative...especially the last line...lovely :)

One tired bunny
Off to his pillow burrow
Good night one and all.

x

Less embarassing, but sad (actually, perhaps both of these poems were sad:confused:)

Confession


waiting for death
like a cat
that will jump on the
bed

I am so very sorry for
my wife

she will see this
stiff
white
body
shake it once, then
maybe
again

"Hank!"

Hank won't
answer.

it's not my death that
worries me, it's my wife
left with this
pile of
nothing.

I want to
let her know
though
that all the nights
sleeping
beside her

even the useless
arguments
were things
ever splendid

and the hard
words
I ever feared to
say
can now be
said:

I love
you.

Charles Bukowski

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

One tired bunny
Off to his pillow burrow
Good night one and all.

x

---

Night HHH, sweet dreams mate...

well its been a while without my fave e e cummings....

i like this reading, think its quite powerful...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0z-u...eature=related

here is the text....

True lovers

true lovers in each happening of their hearts
live longer than all which and every who;
despite what fear denies,
what hope asserts,
what falsest both disprove by proving true
(all doubts, all certainties, as villains strive
and heroes through the mere's mind poor pretend-
grim comics of duration:
only love immortally occurs beyond the mind)
such a forever is love's any now
and her each here is such an everywhere,
even more true would truest lovers grow
if out of midnight dropped more suns than are
(yes; and if time should ask into his was
all shall, their eyes would never miss a yes)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill

One tired bunny
Off to his pillow burrow
Good night one and all.

x

---

Sleep well HHH. I'm signing off too. Have a good week ya'all.:)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Mossdog

Less embarassing, but sad (actually, perhaps both of these poems were sad:confused:)

Confession


waiting for death
like a cat
that will jump on the
bed

I am so very sorry for
my wife

she will see this
stiff
white
body
shake it once, then
maybe
again

"Hank!"

Hank won't
answer.

it's not my death that
worries me, it's my wife
left with this
pile of
nothing.

I want to
let her know
though
that all the nights
sleeping
beside her

even the useless
arguments
were things
ever splendid

and the hard
words
I ever feared to
say
can now be
said:

I love
you.

Charles Bukowski

---

Gawd almighty mossy...you are on a roll tonight...this is gorgeous, i love bukwoski so authentic! thanx:)