Western cape penguins
surrounded by tourist hordes
strange experience
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Western cape penguins
surrounded by tourist hordes
strange experience
Two very good choices of poems by freckle and Stef. I haven't read any Emily Bronte poetry before and not a lot of Auden either. Some profound words by Merry there too :cool:
Now a poem about Spiders :D
A Spider In The Sink
There's a spider in the sink and he needs a little drink
'Cos he's tired of spinning cobwebs all the day.
And his wife has asked her mother
Round for tea and that's another
Thing that makes a little spider think life grey.
So if you ever see a spider drinking gin and apple cider,
Then it may be him I saw at break of day.
If he's lying topsy-turvy
And his web's all crazed and curvey
Then he's pissed, but that's the way it is, I'd say.
Eight legs he cannot steer when he's drunk, that's not so queer,
Pick him up and put him out in the back yard.
But if he's seeing double
With ten eyes, then he's got trouble.
Twenty views to keep a hold on's pretty hard.
Treat him nice and kindly, do not squash him blindly,
A spider's nice and furry if you look.
Pat him, pet him, feed him flies,
All according to his size.
What you give is rather less than what HE took.
Just to end this little ditty with a line that's rather pretty,
I would like to give this final little thought:
If you were a male spider,
After sex you'd be inside her.
(Just digest this information, here's the rub.
As a man you won't get eaten,
But a spider he is meat an'
On the menu at this venue he is grub,)
So be chaste and act the way that you've been taught!
Copyright; S Theobald
Email: [email protected]
wretched treadmill run
no dippers, no hugs, no fun
better than nowt; just!
:(:(
Sonnet of Separation
Suddenly laughter was turned to sorrow
Silent and white like the mist
And mouths joined together were turned to foam
And hands drove away what once they welcomed
Suddenly the calm was turned to wind
That blew out the last flame in the eyes
And passion was turned to foreboding
And the frozen moment was turned to drama
Suddenly, no more than suddenly
The lover was transformed in sadness
And contentment into solitude
The close friend became a distant one
Life became a wandering adventure
Suddenly, no more than suddenly
Vinicius de Moraes
morning all...by eck my legs are a bit stiff after all that pottering about on fells!
some nice choices recently....
alf your spider poem was v funny :D
stef and dt your choices re seperation and absence were beautiful and made me think of this poem by christina rossetti...
Echo
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low
As long ago, my love, how long ago.
Lovely choice freckle :)Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
A gentle 2 or 3 mile jog will free your legs up or even a nice walk ;)
great stuff merry, as ever Mr motivator, i think you should be some kind of personal trainer!:)Quote:
Originally Posted by merrylegs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2kxl...eature=related
Bob Dylan thinks this guy is the world's greatest poet and I reckon he's not far off. Utter genius :cool:
Glad i motivate others, finding it hard to motivate myself at the moment, time to get up close and personal with myself!Quote:
Originally Posted by freckle
Morning all, hope you are all keeping fit and well.
Have not posted on here for a while. I was supposed to be starting a race in half hour but seeing as I am still sat in my jimmyjams, I thought this was appropriate!
LAZINESS
Let laureates sing with rapturous swing
Of the wonder and glory of work;
Let pulpiteers preach and with passion impeach
The indolent wretches who shirk.
No doubt they are right: in the stress of the fight
It's the slackers who go to the wall;
So though it's my shame I perversely proclaim
It's fine to do nothing at all.
It's fine to recline on the flat of one's spine,
With never a thought in one's head:
It's lovely to le staring up at the sky
When others are earning their bread.
It's great to feel one with the soil and the sun,
Drowned deep in the grasses so tall;
Oh it's noble to sweat, pounds and dollars to get,
But - it's grand to do nothing at all.
So sing to the praise of the fellows who laze
Instead of lambasting the soil;
The vagabonds gay who lounge by the way,
Conscientious objectors to toil.
But lest you should think, by this spatter of ink,
The Muses still hold me in thrall,
I'll round out my rhyme, and (until the next time)
Work like hell - doing nothing at all.
Robert William Service