that made me...Originally Posted by Hes
Surreal and wise, folks...consider this next time you are out on the lash, go home and have your oats instead.
that made me...Surreal and wise, folks...consider this next time you are out on the lash, go home and have your oats instead.
Fitness can't be stored. It must be earned over and over, indefinitely.
Thanks OW....and i hope you have had a pleasant morn too
my run was mixed!
here's some more stuff....
My ipod was my running friend
Now replaced by a mental pen
Plod plod, scribble scribble
Unfolds another rhyming riddle
To be worked out in my pea sized brain
Before I go totally insane
on another note....
"We used to be so fecund"
screech the trees.
Pointy branches pricking the sky.
"How much longer before
the mouth of spring moistens?
How long before we open into the green?"
Welcome back HHH...how funny I thought i had acknowledged Yeats!...tee hee! looking forward to more of your offerings and the rest of the gang....
Last edited by freckle; 15-11-2009 at 06:26 PM.
and we run because we like it through the broad bright land
Beeny Cliff
Thomas Hardy
O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,
And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free –
The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.
The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away
In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,
As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.
A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,
And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,
And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.
- Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,
And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,
And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?
What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,
The woman now is - elsewhere - whom the ambling pony bore,
And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.
and we run because we like it through the broad bright land
When you come
When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,
I CRY.
Maya Angelou
bloody lovely poem but sunday night gloom setting in please someone post something surreal/hilarous/daft etc etc[/I][/B]
Last edited by freckle; 15-11-2009 at 07:25 PM.
and we run because we like it through the broad bright land
You nearly got away with it!
Plod plod, scribble scribble - I like it.
Sometime's it is just a case of writing it down...
Outwitted by a 2-year-old
Please get your foot off the table and eat your tea.
Sorry Daddy.
I can see your foot again – put it down please.
Ok Daddy.
Why are your toes on the table?
So they can see what's going on.
Fitness can't be stored. It must be earned over and over, indefinitely.
You nearly got away with it!
Plod plod, scribble scribble - I like it.
Sometime's it is just a case of writing it down...
Outwitted by a 2-year-old
Please get your foot off the table and eat your tea.
Sorry Daddy.
I can see your foot again – put it down please.
Ok Daddy.
Why are your toes on the table?
So they can see what's going on.
Bloody brilliant!
and we run because we like it through the broad bright land
It was all his own work. He's a smart arse already - I don't know where he gets it from!Bloody brilliant!
Fitness can't be stored. It must be earned over and over, indefinitely.
Holywell dene ya big softie!
I was in a reet rage when i turned up
Trainers and a snot coloured Hally Hansen
Holding together a black mood
But your canopy of orange and brown
Mud splattered on my calves
Decomposing leaves amidst flashes of vert
Speak to me....you say
“As long as there is muck beneath those feet
And a stream pacing by
As long as you hear the odd starling or two
And feel the smart of a November chill
You will be you, and you will just be
So pick up your toes, off you go
There’s bairns back home
and cuddles to be had".
not that i am sentimental today AT all...most unbecoming...must get back to "Ariel"
Last edited by freckle; 16-11-2009 at 12:24 AM.
and we run because we like it through the broad bright land
Wow! That's the finest of all the running poems i've read here. Sums up what a clarty (geordie word folks!) run can do for a hacky (and another) mood.
Aha! Just been looking through everyone's contributions and here's a new one to add to the list.
A new style, same class.
I didn't make it out for a run today, so that's a nice tale from someone who did.
Fitness can't be stored. It must be earned over and over, indefinitely.
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