Today's poet

[Alf]

Good choices there Mossy :thumbup:


Journey of the Magi

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.


T.S. Eliot


Happy Christmas everyone

[freckle]

little tree

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
"Noel Noel"

by: e.e. cummings

Merry Christmas everyone X

some beautiful choices tonight thanks mossy and alf...

wishing all you fell poets out there a canny xmas, if your into it and if not...keep focused on 2012 with all of its ripe and possibly unknown opportunities (in my case getting around the anniversary waltz without getting lost!)...:-)

[freckle]

Twas the Night before Christmas
Clement Clark

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

[Hes]

Happy Christmas to all fell poets...my new years resolution includes to post more poetry. Happiness is great but it ruins my poem writing/posting skills!

[freckle]

Hello all,

received The Mayor Of Casterbridge from my little girls as a christmas present, looking forward to reading that one...nowt like a bit of Hardy misery to start the year off! Here is a quote from the fellow himself, thought it seemed quite relevant for this time of year somehow...

“The business of the poet and novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things, and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.”

and here a poem in Hardy's typically tragic style...

The Self Unseeing
Thomas Hardy

Here is the ancient floor,
Footworn and hollowed and thin,
Here was the former door
Where the dead feet walked in.

She sat here in her chair,
Smiling into the fire;
He who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.

Childlike, I danced in a dream;
Blessings emblazoned that day
Everything glowed with a gleam;
Yet we were looking away

[Derby Tup]

Stef and I watched the Richard Linklater film Before Sunrise last night. The poem below 'Delusion angel' was written by David Jewell specifically for the film:




daydream delusion

limousine eyelash

oh baby with your pretty face

drop a tear in my wine glass

look at those big eyes on your face

see what you mean to me

sweet cakes and milk shakes

I’m a delusion angel

I’m a fantasy parade

I want you to know what I think

don’t want you to guess anymore

you have no idea where I came from

we have no idea where we’re going

lodged in life like two branches in a river

caught in the current

flowing downstream

I’ll carry you you carry me

that’s how it could be

don’t you know me

don’t you know me by now…

[Alf]

Hello all,

received The Mayor Of Casterbridge from my little girls as a christmas present, looking forward to reading that one...nowt like a bit of Hardy misery to start the year off! Here is a quote from the fellow himself, thought it seemed quite relevant for this time of year somehow...

“The business of the poet and novelist is to show the sorriness underlying the grandest things, and the grandeur underlying the sorriest things.”

and here a poem in Hardy's typically tragic style...

The Self Unseeing
Thomas Hardy

Here is the ancient floor,
Footworn and hollowed and thin,
Here was the former door
Where the dead feet walked in.

She sat here in her chair,
Smiling into the fire;
He who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.

Childlike, I danced in a dream;
Blessings emblazoned that day
Everything glowed with a gleam;
Yet we were looking away

He doesn't have many laughs in his books does he ? Though the Mayor of Casterbridge finishes a bit better than most. On the subject of monsters I am watching the little Dorrit serialization on BBC HD at the the moment (I missed it when it was first shown) and Rigaud makes the MOC look like a boy scout :w00t:

[Alf]

Stef and I watched the Richard Linklater film Before Sunrise last night. The poem below 'Delusion angel' was written by David Jewell specifically for the film:




daydream delusion

limousine eyelash

oh baby with your pretty face

drop a tear in my wine glass

look at those big eyes on your face

see what you mean to me

sweet cakes and milk shakes

I’m a delusion angel

I’m a fantasy parade

I want you to know what I think

don’t want you to guess anymore

you have no idea where I came from

we have no idea where we’re going

lodged in life like two branches in a river

caught in the current

flowing downstream

I’ll carry you you carry me

that’s how it could be

don’t you know me

don’t you know me by now…

Have you got 'Before Sunset' lined up next DT ?

[Derby Tup]

Have you got 'Before Sunset' lined up next DT ?

Funny you should ask that Alf I fell asleep watching ' Sunset after watching ' Sunrise last night. I've not seen it before but Stef said it's well worth me staying awake for soon :thumbup:

[freckle]

He doesn't have many laughs in his books does he ? Though the Mayor of Casterbridge finishes a bit better than most. On the subject of monsters I am watching the little Dorrit serialization on BBC HD at the the moment (I missed it when it was first shown) and Rigaud makes the MOC look like a boy scout :w00t:

You have given me hope Alf!...just watched great expectations part one on replay ith kids, the were terrified but ultimately loved it! ... I am trying to read great expectations with the eldest, I find it overly wordy but worth the struggle, enjoy little dorrit!