Today's poet

[freckle]

There are a few books about the poetry of athletics:

"Running in Literature" by Roger Robinson ( 2003) is the best general book that contains a number of poems about athletics. There are many other books containing individual poems.

Wow X runner! thanks for this! you need to open a library

ps i would love to hear some of your favourites.....

[Mountain Goatess]

All the birds have flown up and gone
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by
We never tire of looking at each other
Only the mountain and I.

[Hanneke]

I really really love this short poem by Goethe. I have refrained from posting it, as I only know it in German and don't want to seem pretentious... I choose it at school to learn by heart and read in front of the class, we all had to do one in German lessons... I have never forgotten it...

Apologies for the lack of umlauts and stuff... don't know how to do them on here?

Wanderers Nachtlied... Goethe

Uber all Gipfeln ist ruh
In alle Wipfeln spurest du
kaum einen hauch
die Vogelein schweigen im Walde,
warte nur
bald ruhest du auch.

[XRunner]

Wanderers Nachtlied... Goethe

Uber all Gipfeln ist ruh
In alle Wipfeln spurest du
kaum einen hauch
die Vogelein schweigen im Walde,
warte nur
bald ruhest du auch.

In English

Over all the hilltops is calm.
in all the treetops
you feel hardly a breath of air.
The little birds fall silent in the woods.
Just wait... soon you'll also be at rest.

Or even traditional Chinese

在所有小山頂是鎮靜的
在所有樹梢 您幾乎不感覺空氣呼吸
小的鳥秋天沈默在森林
等待…很快是休息

[freckle]

In English

isn't it beautiful?....thank you for posting it han

.......traditional chinese........:-)

[Hanneke]

Thanks for that XR

Now, another poem that is close to my heart is one by our local poet Owen Sheers... It describes a local hill here, the 'Skirrid' or St Michaels Mount. It is set a little away from the first hills of the Black Mountains and has the remnants of a chapel on top of it. It makes for a good, easy run through some forest then up it's spine... with a brief rest at the chapel ruins to take in the views accross to the Black Mountains and Brecon Beacons beyond, before turning back and flying down...

Skirrid Fawr

Just like the farmer who once came to scoop
handfuls of soil from her holy scar,

so I am still drawn to her back for the answers
to every question I have ever known,

To the sentence of her slopes,
the blunt wind glancing from her withers,

to the split view she reveals
with every step along her broken spine.

This edge of her cleft palate,
part hill, part field,

rising from low mist, a lonely hulk
adrift through Wales.

Her east-west flanks, one dark, one sunlit,
her vernacular of borders.

Her weight, the unspoken words
of an unlearned tongue.

[dominion]

From one of the great poets of our generation....

With the money from her accident
She bought herself a mobile home
So at least she could get some enjoyment
Out of being alone
No one could say that she was left up on the shelf
Its you and me against the world kid she mumbled to herself

Chorus:
When the world falls apart some things stay in place
Levi stubbs tears run down his face

She ran away from home with her mothers best coat
She was married before she was even entitled to vote
And her husband was one of those blokes
The sort that only laughs at his own jokes
The sort that war takes away
And when there wasnt a war he left her anyway

Norman whitfield and barratt strong
Are here to make everything right thats wrong
Holland and holland and lamont dozier too
Are here to make it all okay with you

One dark night he came home from the sea
And put a hole in her body where no hole should be
It hurt her more to see him walking out the door
And though they stitched her back together they left her heart in pieces on the
Floor

When the world falls apart some things stay in place
She takes off the four tops tape and puts it back in its case
When the world falls apart some things stay in place
Levi stubbs tears...

[XRunner]

My poetry thread didn't last as long as this one.

[freckle]

My poetry thread didn't last as long as this one.

Aw...and i think it was good

[freckle]

Good morning all....

Helvellyn
Sir Walter Scott

I climd'd the dark brow of mighty Helvellyn,
Lakes and mountains beneath me gleam'd misty and wide;
All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,
And starting around me the echoes replied.
On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending
And Catchedicam its left verge was defending,
One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending,
When I mark'd the sad spot where the wanderer had died.

Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown mountain heather,
Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretch'd in decay,
Like the corpse of an outcast abandon'd to weather,
Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay.
Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended,
For, faithful in death, his mute favourite attended,
The much-loved remains of her master defended,
And chased the hill-fox and raven away.

How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber?
When the wind waved his garment, how oft didst thou start?
How many long days and long weeks didst thou number,
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart?
And, oh, was it meet, that - no requiem read o'er him -
No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him,
And thou, little guardian, alone stretch'd before him -
Unhonour'd the Pilgrim from life should depart?

When a Prince to the fate of the Peasant has yielded,
The tapestry waves dark round the rim-lighted hall;
With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded,
And pages stand mute by the canopied pall:
Through the court, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming;
In proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beaming,
Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming,
Lamenting a Chief of the people should fall.

But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,
To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb,
When, wilder'd, he drops from some huge cliff in stature,
And draws his last sob by the side of his dam.
And more stately thy couch by the desert lake lying,
Thy obsequies sung by the grave plover flying,
With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying,
In the arms of Helvellyn and Catchedicam.