Cool! Mighty fine Freckle. :cool:
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Benjamin Zephaniah wrote it.
Here's another....
Ride
from "Too Black, Too Strong"
We first met on a golden night
As the moon radiated love light
On the dock of the bay.
Somewhere between the real deal and an illusion
We lay unapologetically
Stroking each others lack of responsibility.
'I want to be a poet,'
She said looking over the mountain,
'I want to be a hippy,'
She said checking out me natty dread,
'I want to be political,'
She whispered as she admired my scars,
'I may not look it, but I'm really oppressed,'
She said smiling,
Handing me her welfare book.
The sea lassoed the shore
Time and night hovered towards daylight
And bellyfilled foxes sniffed their way home.
She put the blanket over her head
Farted, and fell asleep.
The next time I saw her
She was trying to find The Goddess of Plenty,
Desperately seeking the freeway
And after me money.
'It's different for women,' she said
'We can use men for their bodies
Men do it to us all the time.'
The next time I saw her
She ran over me with her wheelchair.
Morning all....
Is it for now or for always
Philip Larkin
Is it for now or for always,
The world hangs on a stalk?
Is it a trick or a trysting-place,
The woods we have found to walk?
Is it a mirage or miracle,
Your lips that lift at mine:
And the suns like a juggler's juggling-balls,
Are they a sham or a sign?
Shine out, my sudden angel,
Break fear with breast and brow,
I take you now and for always,
For always is always now.
How to say it with flowers:
Meadowsweet
by David C Johnson
She was Meadowsweet
Spread amongst the Lady’s Bedstraw
Sacred to the ancient Druids
Tasting like a summer honey
With a smell
That makes hearts merry
Come to me my Meadowsweet
Slip your Lady’s Smock
Lay amongst the Thyme with me
Your lovesome Ragged Robin
to a dear friend................
Bird
It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
Pablo Neruda
Illness.
My thread of my life,
Is chopped into many pieces,
By the slashing of the fates' knife,
Doing their best to make sure my life ceases.
These labours of my life i put myself under,
Living and feeling all to extreme,
It's suprising they have not split my head asunder,
All in all this can be hell never a dream.
I just want to be lithe and quick round the fell,
Trying to make this happen held back by my brain,
It seems to be a losing battle from what i can tell,
Another dream shattered by this god awful pain.
I need help someone i can run with on the hill,
But the problem is i am barely past a walk,
It's getting the better of me i don't want to be ill,
I need the company so that i can talk.
Everyone is so fit and to ask them to join me is unfair,
They would their fitness just by being with me,
It would make me feel guilty as i really care,
But being a Fellrunner is all i want to be.
By Matt.