Today's poet

[Harry H Howgill]

Good stuff HHH really great to read.

I'm glad you enjoyed them. I'm off now. More tomorrow.

[freckle]

Evening all! there have been some great choices tonight...I have been distracted too by all the christmas type shenanigans....i have never been so disorganised as this year!....anyhow Hes I loved the haiku, its always a treat to hear of your adventures, Tri I am in awe of how much you write! I am trying to write tonight but am struggling big time...i think I am getting that end of year exhausted feeling!....HHH I adore Robert Frost, I recently acquired "Words that Burn" an anthology which includes some of his work and a free CD with various famous actors reading poems by 8 great poets....one of the poems is one of my all time favourites, its been posted before but it is always worth a revisit....

here is the you tube link to listen to it which I think is very powerful....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goc3f77bcXk

and the text...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


not sure how much i'll be on tonight as a can feel a tidal wave of exhaustion lurking somewhere! i'll see what I can muster!

[freckle]

Sans beard

The velvet cloak
Makes a bid to ensnare me
Familiar strokes of guilt and anxiety
Attempt to suck greedily
The juice of “we”
Through the net of a permeable mind.

But wait, another image
Shambolic vagrants, that’s us
Hats all a kimber, cannot disguise,
the rise, the R-I-S-E
irrepressible tenderness not easy to define.

An unlikely oasis, snow distant and dim,
green irridiscent leaves in December!
You held me when I cried,
and I laughed, that laugh not long after.
Your handwriting, casting a spell
That tremble I know so well

Our cottage of poems, wine and brie
A familiar face in a snowstorm
Observes us feast!
And you, you, you
Watching me sleep.

YOU, my love,
watching me sleep.

Mary Patch

[Stevie]

A couple of attempts to capture the last few days in the Chilterns, yesterday's run especially:

First a haiku

The forest road is closed
Becalmed by a clean white blanket
Paw prints replace tyre


Next a quick attempt at a poem.

I want to run and run
On the new laid snow,
Impossible perfection
creaking beneath my feet.

A snow-created new world,
Hides the old world for a while.
Gone the grass, mud and stones
and all worldly imperfections.

Even dull black trees are reborn,
Festooned with white bunting,
Drooping under the weight,
Dropping on me like a cold shower.

Evidence of travel accumulates
on the ground: paw, hoof, claw, bird,
Cycle, walking boot, fell shoe.
No creature can hide their passing.

The tracks of maverick sledgers
in the woods, their footprints
where they had to push.
Those were some tough kids.

Light fades and changes colour,
Faint orange sky-glow reflected.
Ground shape is hard to judge.
I run on regardless.

New snow falling covers tracks,
Bursts cold in my eyes.
It melts and refreezes on me.
This is a special day.

Over the last hill,
The town below decked out
with amber streetlights.
Soon enough I will be home.

[freckle]

Top of the morning....

I bring you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.

Yeats

[freckle]

A couple of attempts to capture the last few days in the Chilterns, yesterday's run especially:

First a haiku

The forest road is closed
Becalmed by a clean white blanket
Paw prints replace tyre


Next a quick attempt at a poem.

I want to run and run
On the new laid snow,
Impossible perfection
creaking beneath my feet.

A snow-created new world,
Hides the old world for a while.
Gone the grass, mud and stones
and all worldly imperfections.

Even dull black trees are reborn,
Festooned with white bunting,
Drooping under the weight,
Dropping on me like a cold shower.

Evidence of travel accumulates
on the ground: paw, hoof, claw, bird,
Cycle, walking boot, fell shoe.
No creature can hide their passing.

The tracks of maverick sledgers
in the woods, their footprints
where they had to push.
Those were some tough kids.

Light fades and changes colour,
Faint orange sky-glow reflected.
Ground shape is hard to judge.
I run on regardless.

New snow falling covers tracks,
Bursts cold in my eyes.
It melts and refreezes on me.
This is a special day.

Over the last hill,
The town below decked out
with amber streetlights.
Soon enough I will be home.

stevie this is awesome! there is a certain innocence to the snow yoou describe...almost virgin like.....i really like it!

[N-dubya]

A couple of attempts to capture the last few days in the Chilterns, yesterday's run especially:

First a haiku

The forest road is closed
Becalmed by a clean white blanket
Paw prints replace tyre


Next a quick attempt at a poem.

I want to run and run
On the new laid snow,
Impossible perfection
creaking beneath my feet.

A snow-created new world,
Hides the old world for a while.
Gone the grass, mud and stones
and all worldly imperfections.

Even dull black trees are reborn,
Festooned with white bunting,
Drooping under the weight,
Dropping on me like a cold shower.

Evidence of travel accumulates
on the ground: paw, hoof, claw, bird,
Cycle, walking boot, fell shoe.
No creature can hide their passing.

The tracks of maverick sledgers
in the woods, their footprints
where they had to push.
Those were some tough kids.

Light fades and changes colour,
Faint orange sky-glow reflected.
Ground shape is hard to judge.
I run on regardless.

New snow falling covers tracks,
Bursts cold in my eyes.
It melts and refreezes on me.
This is a special day.

Over the last hill,
The town below decked out
with amber streetlights.
Soon enough I will be home.

I've been trying to write a poem for a couple of weeks that contains themes described in this poem in particular

Evidence of travel accumulates
on the ground: paw, hoof, claw, bird,
Cycle, walking boot, fell shoe.
No creature can hide their passing.

Really good poem with acute perceptions of what was going on around you

[N-dubya]

Another snow poem been looking for it an books for days.

Louis Macneice

Snow

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think
Incorrigbly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes-
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palmsof one's hands-
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

It reminded of the few days just before Christmas when I try to let things slow down

[ZootHornRollo]

it aint a poem, it's the lyrics to loudon wainwright's tribute to charlie poole - one of the great early bluegrass banjo players and an infamous hellraiser. You sort of need the banjo behind it, but here goes anyway ....


High wide and handsome - that's how I like livin'.
High wide and handsome - that's how life should be.
Low skinny and ugly - that's for other people.
High wide and handsome suits me to a tee.

Song, wine, and women - they're my 3 favorites.
Beer, gin, and whiskey - that's 5, 6, and 4.
Saturday night I like eatin' and dancin'
And I sleep all day Sunday so's I'm ready for more.

High wide and handsome - you can't take it with you.
High wide and handsome - that's one way to go.
Let's live it up - might as well, we're all dying.
High wide and handsome - let's put on a show.

Can't quit what will kill me, so why even bother?
I love this hard livin', so why even try?
I'll be high wide and handsome when I kick the bucket.
I'll be high wide and handsome on the day that I die.

High wide and handsome - you can call it my motto.
High wide and handsome - call it my creed.
Money's just paper, liquor's thicker than water --
High wide and handsome in thought, word, and deed.

Have high wide and handsome carved on my head stone,
With the date I was born plus the date that I died,
Then take one from the other - all that's left is a number.
Just remember I laughed twice as hard as I cried.

High wide and handsome - that's how I like livin'.
High wide and handsome - that's how life should be.
Low skinny and ugly - that's for other people --
High wide and handsome suits me to a tee.

[Nathaniel Lee]

Struggling to come to terms with me.

God i feel low people stare all i see are grey shadows,
Ghosts, facsimilies all racing around in the filth and decrepitude,
This world sickens me it has no place for my divided soul,
I walk by the river it's velvet blackness whispering jump in,
Resisting the urge i go home sit there look in the mirror,
What looks back is a monster, a lonely child , a freak but it's not me,
Dry dessicated parts of me used to exist now nothing not for over 20 years,
Would you want a life where the only person you can be is a chemical creation put together by psychiatrists ?. Or would you having lost yourself want to end it all.

By Matt Harmston.