Today's poet

World

On the other sde of the world,
you pass the moon to me,
or a quaich.
I roll you the sun.

I go to bed,
as you're getting up
on the other side of the world.
You have scattered the stars
towards me here, like seeds

in the earth.
All through the night,
I have sent you
bunches, bouquets, of cloud
to the the side of the world;

so my love will be shade
where you are,
and yours,
as I turn in my sleep,
the bud of a star

Carol Ann Duffy

I've posted this before from the Carol Ann Duffy Rapture book that Stef bought me as a Valentine present but it seems even more appropriate at present when I'm in China and she's at home ;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Derby Tup

World

On the other sde of the world,
you pass the moon to me,
or a quaich.
I roll you the sun.

I go to bed,
as you're getting up
on the other side of the world.
You have scattered the stars
towards me here, like seeds

in the earth.
All through the night,
I have sent you
bunches, bouquets, of cloud
to the the side of the world;

so my love will be shade
where you are,
and yours,
as I turn in my sleep,
the bud of a star

Carol Ann Duffy

I've posted this before from the Carol Ann Duffy Rapture book that Stef bought me as a Valentine present but it seems even more appropriate at present when I'm in China and she's at home ;)

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That's blooming lovely DT. Hope you two enjoy the bittersweet separation knowing that you'll be together again on your return...sometimes missing someone just emphasises how much you mean to each other I reckon. :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

World

On the other sde of the world,
you pass the moon to me,
or a quaich.
I roll you the sun.

I go to bed,
as you're getting up
on the other side of the world.
You have scattered the stars
towards me here, like seeds

in the earth.
All through the night,
I have sent you
bunches, bouquets, of cloud
to the the side of the world;

so my love will be shade
where you are,
and yours,
as I turn in my sleep,
the bud of a star

Carol Ann Duffy

I've posted this before from the Carol Ann Duffy Rapture book that Stef bought me as a Valentine present but it seems even more appropriate at present when I'm in China and she's at home ;)

---

How gorgeous is this...just lovely and will resonate with others I am sure :( thank you for posting :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

the skylark ascends
running with sun on my face
my heart is singing

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this is lush and makes me want to run like NOW! ...just small issue of 4 children creating havoc in my house! but I will make a mental note for tomorrow! :) :) :)

:eek: well it is friday !!!!! :eek:

My beloved compares herself to a pint of stout.
Paul Durcan.

When in the heat of the first night of summer I observe with a whistle of envy That Jackson has driven out the road for a pint of stout, She puts her arm around my waist and scolds me: Am I not your pint of stout? Drink me. There is nothing except, of course, self-pity To stop you also having your pint of stout.


Putting self-pity on a leash in the back of the car, I drive out the road, do a U-turn, Drive in the hall door, up the spiral staircase, Into her bedroom. I park at the foot of her bed, Nonchalantly step out leaving the car unlocked, Stroll over to the chest of drawers, lean on it, Circumspectly inspect the backs of my hands, Modestly request from her a pint of stout.

She turns her back, undresses, pours herself into bed, Adjusts the pillows, slaps her hand on the coverlet: Here I am - at the very least Look at my new cotton nightdress before you shred it And do not complain that I have not got a head on me.

I look around to see her foaming out of the bedclothes Not laughing but gazing at me out of four-legged eyes. She says: Close your eyes, put your hands around me. I am the blackest, coldest pint you will ever drink, So sip me slowly, let me linger on your lips, Ooze through your teeth, dawdle down your throat, Before swooping down into your guts.

While you drink me I will deposit my scum On your rim and when you get to the bottom of me, No matter how hard you try to drink my dregs - And being a man, you will, no harm in that - I will keep bubbling up back at you. For there is no escaping my aftermath. Tonight - being the first night of summer - You may drink as many pints of me as you like. There are barrels of me in the taproom. In thin daylight at nightfall, You will fall asleep drunk on love. When you wake early in the early morning You will have a hangover, All chaste, astringent, aflame with affirmation, Straining at the bit to get to first mass And holy communion and work - the good life.

have a good evening y'all!!!!!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Derby Tup

World

On the other sde of the world,
you pass the moon to me,
or a quaich.
I roll you the sun.

I go to bed,
as you're getting up
on the other side of the world.
You have scattered the stars
towards me here, like seeds

in the earth.
All through the night,
I have sent you
bunches, bouquets, of cloud
to the the side of the world;

so my love will be shade
where you are,
and yours,
as I turn in my sleep,
the bud of a star

Carol Ann Duffy

I've posted this before from the Carol Ann Duffy Rapture book that Stef bought me as a Valentine present but it seems even more appropriate at present when I'm in China and she's at home ;)

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That's a brilliant post DT. :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Hes

Very funny OW. I had a rather irritated man follow me once as I got a bit confused as to where the trail was and so ran directly as the crow flies through bogs, gorse and falling down holes. I think he learnt his lesson.

Thanks to HHH for his kind advice too. Very thoughtful. My compass is at the ready...

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That sounds like my navigating. Take the straight line even if it means fording bogs, climbing crags or sploshing through streams.

Mosedale Cottage. Pale.
Crumbling into the dark sod.
A lonely demise.

A little early perhaps, but hey ho....forewarned is....


April 18

the slime of all my yesterdays
rots in the hollow of my skull

and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation

I would not remember you

or that because of sleep
infrequent as a moon of greencheese
that because of food
nourishing as violet leaves
that because of these

and in a few fatal yards of grass
in a few spaces of sky and treetops

a future was lost yesterday
as easily and irretrievably
as a tennis ball at twilight


Sylvia Plath

Words

Axes after whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes travelling
Off from the centre like horses.
The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road______

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.


Sylvia Plath