Today's poet

[Old Whippet]

[QUOTE=Mountain Goatess;265103]
There is poetry in these hills
Especially in the fall
Through the voice of whipoorwills
I hear its beauty call

Nice one MG.
Looked up whipoorwill - a kind of nightjar. I guess in Northumberland, the curlew evokes the same. And in the lakes, the ravens on the high fells.

[Derby Tup]

One of the worlds greatest living poets is on BBC Electric Proms tomorrow night, William 'Smokey' Robinson Jr

[freckle]

Nice one DT

Following on from the theme of childhood in Seamus Heaney's poem i came across this e e cummings poem today which rather reminded me of a similar sentiment...(ie the simple pleasures of childhood)...


who are you, little i
(five or six years old)
peering from some high
window; at the gold
of november sunset
(and feeling: that if day has to become night
this is a beautiful way)

[Mountain Goatess]

[QUOTE=Old Whippet;265116]

There is poetry in these hills
Especially in the fall
Through the voice of whipoorwills
I hear its beauty call

Nice one MG.
Looked up whipoorwill - a kind of nightjar. I guess in Northumberland, the curlew evokes the same. And in the lakes, the ravens on the high fells.

Yes...I googled that too!

[Derby Tup]

I'm enjoying this thread too

Hanneke, have you seen the film Il Postino? It features many Pablo Neruda poems. I have a lovely little book featuring several of them I bought after seeing the film in the mid-nineties

[freckle]

I'm enjoying this thread too

Hanneke, have you seen the film Il Postino? It features many Pablo Neruda poems. I have a lovely little book featuring several of them I bought after seeing the film in the mid-nineties

could you post (or do they need translation?) i am sure we would all like to hear them? ........

[Derby Tup]

For freckle:

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind

Final verse of La Poesía (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda

[Mossdog]

Given that we've edged away from depression (re: Sylvia) towards a more romantic flavour here's one of my favourites:


The Good-morrow by John Donne

I wonder by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then?
But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp North, without declining West?
What ever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that non do slacken, none do die.



Now ain't that lovely?

[freckle]

For freckle:

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind

Final verse of La Poesía (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda

Dear Derby T...thank you...you just made my night! ...see there are some advantages to staying in (see Friday night out thread!)......this is an amazing and beautiful poem, love that line "drunk with the great starry void" and well ALL of it!!!!!!!! Wow!....please post more in the days to come...i am away tomorrow night and reckon I am going to have serious withdrawal from this thread!.........

[XRunner]

Fell Fever (by me .. with help from John Masefield)

I must go onto the fells again, to the lonely fells and the sky,
And all I ask is a good map and a star to guide me by,
And a compass and the wind’s song and a white cloud soaring
And a grey mist on the fell-side with the grey morn breaking.

I must go onto the fells again, for the call of a running race,
Is a wild call and a clear call that again I must face.
All I ask is a snowy way and sunny day with the white clouds flying
And the cold sleet and the white flakes and the grouse crying.

I must go onto the fells again, for the simple running life,
is the hare’s way and the fox’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife.
And all I ask is few beers with a laughing, friendly runner,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long race is over.