A great time
Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad,
Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow --
A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord,
How rich and great the times are now!
Know, all ye sheep
And cows, that keep
On staring that I stand so long
In grass that's wet from heavy rain --
A rainbow and a cuckoo's song
May never come together again;
May never come
This side the tomb.
William Henry Davies
It looked lovely up there today with an icing sugar coating of snow.Originally Posted by Derby Tup
Lovely!
I'm off to the Lakes shortly, hoping for decent weather and poet inspiration! Have a good day
Was it nice having your feet on home soil again?
Good evening fellow poetry lovers. I've had the best morning run and I'm on a bit of a high. Three of our club's fellrunnering lads invited me on an 18 mile muddy run and I agreed but haven't done anything that long since the beginning of the year. I only dropped behind in the last mile and it was brilliant. Here are the haiku that I wrote along the way:
The Full Monty
intrepidation
setting off into half light
my heart is pounding
up, along and down
mud spattered and slithering
the earth sucks at us
one quarter collie
our four legged friend spies the
grey shapes in the mist
Rievaulx below us
treading the footsteps of monks
our faith is the fells
shooting party stares
dogs barking and guns ready
we run faster
one more hill to go
weary legs and joyful soul
carry me home
What a great day you've had. It sounds like the lads were getting competetive on the last bit.
How the hell you remember them as you go I don't know! I especially liked the one about the monks. Our faith is the fells!
A vow to look after the fells.
Too many fell runners in the countryside,
Reptilian ministers spouting off about erosion,
What about those who choose to quad bike ride,
Fools with half baked ideas causing a commotion.
Yes there should have been more done in the past,
Why point the finger at us as if only we were at fault,
Fell runners now do our best to make the countryside last,
If we all pull together this damage we will halt.
If we alternate the courses less erosion there will be,
F.r.a. Members should be made to work on the land,
Willingness to help keep the fells there for eternity,
Fifty years time races still run because of your hand.
By Matt Harmston.
Thanks HHH. I don't remember them exactly, just the rough ideas and usually work on them better when I'm not sidetracked by trying to breathe and co-ordinate my way through bogs and slippery descents.What a great day you've had. It sounds like the lads were getting competetive on the last bit.
How the hell you remember them as you go I don't know! I especially liked the one about the monks. Our faith is the fells!
That's a very poetic way of raising some valid points Tri-mind.
And there was me thinking you had a pen and pad or a dictaphone in your bum bag.Maybe you should have a scribe; someone who could run along side and record all your musings.
Just checked out this thread, so this may have been on before,
Do not stand at my grave and weep, by Mary Elizabeth Frye.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep,
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain,
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds
in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night,
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there I did not die.
Chosen following an excellend discussion had with an old friend not long ago. The more I read this chap, the more I like his attitude.
Money
When I had money, money, O!
I knew no joy till I went poor;
For many a false man as a friend
Came knocking all day at my door.
Then felt I like a child that holds
A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
Much have I thought of life, and seen
How poor men’s hearts are ever light;
And how their wives do hum like bees
About their work from morn till night.
So, when I hear these poor ones laugh,
And see the rich ones coldly frown—
Poor men, think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down.
When I had money, money, O!
My many friends proved all untrue;
But now I have no money, O!
My friends are real, though very few.
William Henry Davies
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