I always think of going to the seaside as a lovely but rare treat, but then I was born in England's mid-most county and have never lived closer than probably 80miles from the coast ;)
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I always think of going to the seaside as a lovely but rare treat, but then I was born in England's mid-most county and have never lived closer than probably 80miles from the coast ;)
Its funny when i go to the lakes i absolutely adore it but i have to admit i always have a funny sort of down feeling when i get home, i have often wondered what that is about, i wonder if it is something to do with the sheer scale of the beauty there that is a bit disorientating.......Mmmm....anyway my dream is still to live there one day...at this rate i might be about 95 when that happens but if i keep up the training and with the help of cryogenics i'll be reet! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
PS DT i love the new signature
Its the scale of the mountains in the Lakes compared to the Moors, Dales or Peak ;) Plonking Blencathra at the side of the main road down to Keswick was a master-stroke :DQuote:
Originally Posted by freckle
The sea is a passion/obsession of mine too and I am never so happy as when I am by it, on it, in it or under it (I dive), but somehow I have managed to live in a place equidistant between two coasts. I also find that it soothes me when I am totally desolate. I have a theory that my ancestors were seafarers and my surname suggests as much. I am still dreaming of a handsome seafarer that might come and sweep me off my feet...then disappear on a ship for a few weeks so I can have some space to do my work! Ha ha.Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Sea change - by Jane Verburg, 2½ years in Cromarty
Do you know what it’s like to live with the sea
in your hair,
inside your head, knitted into your sleep?
Its noiselessness, noisiness, tied to your fingertips,
its seaweed rolled in strandlines strung to your toes,
its thumbprint pebbles caught in the curve
of your turn,
its sea glass in your pockets,
its curlews lifting in wide ribbons wrapped in
the palm of your hand.
Do you? Do you? I do.
(I found this poem in a newspaper in Stornoway...I think it is lovely)
How lovely :)
Quote:
Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Aw Hes this is absolutely gorgeous....i never knew you were a sea fan, of course that now means when i get my new pad you will have to visit and together we can trot along the Long Sands in Tynemouth together on a Sunday morning!.......There are some fab sand dunes near me too, good for hill training and aesthetically pleasing in terms of the the marram grass...i have a thing about marram grass too, i think its so pretty but also a bit deadly on the legs whilst running (think little red bleeding pin prints!!!!).....anyway i am waffling, must be the time! ...................:)Quote:
Originally Posted by Hes
Hes i think you may have posted this one before...its a corker....
Sea Fever
I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
All I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trip's over.
John Masefield
this guy is a genius i tell thee!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmWZO...eature=related
DEFINATELY worth a listen..............AWESOME!!!!!
Bluebird
Charles Bukowski
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
To My Daughter
Stephen Spender
Bright clasp of her whole hand around my finger,
My daughter, as we walk together now.
All my life I’ll feel a ring invisibly
Circle this bone with shining: when she is grown
Far from today as her eyes are far already.