Today's poet

[freckle]

Oh dear. I'm back on the drink and the limericks have started. There's a chance that this'll get messy!

Not you an' all? oh dear we will be a bad influence on the Howgill!

There was once a lad called Harry
Famed for his nifty feet
Storming those fells with aplomb
Till one day he happened to meet
Two northern fell poets
Now he drinks loadsa whiskey neet!

Mmmmmm....oh dear I was never any good at limericks...much better at misery and













romance

[Old Whippet]

A limerick has only 5 lines
The 1st 2 of course should be rhymes
Lines 3 & 4
Should rhyme some more
And the last one should rhyme with the 1st two, which can be difficult sometimes


oh, and the last line should have 8 syllables and a rythm of
du didee du didee du dee

[freckle]

A limerick has only 5 lines
The 1st 2 of course should be rhymes
Lines 3 & 4
Should rhyme some more
And the last one should rhyme with the 1st two, which can be difficult sometimes

Oooooooooo...get you smarty pants!......some of us don't much care for rules!...........

[Derby Tup]

A limerick has only 5 lines
The 1st 2 of course should be rhymes
Lines 3 & 4
Should rhyme some more
And the last one should rhyme with the 1st two, which can be difficult sometimes


oh, and the last line should have 8 syllables and a rythm of
du didee du didee du dee

Sounds blooming technical that OW!

[Harry H Howgill]

A limerick has only 5 lines
The 1st 2 of course should be rhymes
Lines 3 & 4
Should rhyme some more
And the last one should rhyme with the 1st two, which can be difficult sometimes


oh, and the last line should have 8 syllables and a rythm of
du didee du didee du dee

Excellent I was too polite to mention

[freckle]

Excellent I was too polite to mention

Tush...where is X Runner when you need him?

poetry anyone?

[freckle]

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

[Mossdog]

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Now you lot have gone 'all serious' again, perhaps I can make an entrance having survived the trolls

It's a bit of a long 'un...the poem that is

Diya

by: Amy Lowell


Look, Dear, how bright the moonlight is to-night!
See where it casts the shadow of that tree
Far out upon the grass. And every gust
Of light night wind comes laden with the scent
Of opening flowers which never bloom by day:
Night-scented stocks, and four-o'clocks, and that
Pale yellow disk, upreared on its tall stalk,
The evening primrose, comrade of the stars.
It seems as though the garden which you love
Were like a swinging censer, its incense
Floating before us as a reverent act
To sanctify and bless our night of love.
Tell me once more you love me, that 't is you
Yes, really you, I touch, so, with my hand;
And tell me it is by your own free will
That you are here, and that you like to be
Just here, with me, under this sailing pine.
I need to hear it often for my heart
Doubts naturally, and finds it hard to trust.
Ah, Dearest, you are good to love me so,
And yet I would not have it goodness, rather
Excess of selfishness in you to need
Me through and through, as flowers need the sun.
I wonder can it really be that you
And I are here alone, and that the night
Is full of hours, and all the world asleep,
And none can call to you to come away;
For you have given all yourself to me
Making me gentle by your willingness.
Has your life too been waiting for this time,
Not only mine the sharpness of this joy?
Dear Heart, I love you, worship you as though
I were a priest before a holy shrine.
I'm glad that you are beautiful, although
Were you not lovely still I needs must love;
But you are all things, it must have been so
For otherwise it were not you. Come, close;
When you are in the circle of my arm
Faith grows a mountain and I take my stand
Upon its utmost top. Yes, yes, once more
Kiss me, and let me feel you very near
Wanting me wholly, even as I want you.
Have years behind been dark? Will those to come
Bring unguessed sorrows into our two lives?
What does it matter, we have had to-night!
To-night will make us strong, for we believe
Each in the other, this is a sacrament.
Beloved, is it true?

[Old Whippet]

Excellent I was too polite to mention

respectful is he
man of so many h's
of reckless metre

[freckle]

Now you lot have gone 'all serious' again, perhaps I can make an entrance having survived the trolls

It's a bit of a long 'un...the poem that is

Diya

by: Amy Lowell


Look, Dear, how bright the moonlight is to-night!
See where it casts the shadow of that tree
Far out upon the grass. And every gust
Of light night wind comes laden with the scent
Of opening flowers which never bloom by day:
Night-scented stocks, and four-o'clocks, and that
Pale yellow disk, upreared on its tall stalk,
The evening primrose, comrade of the stars.
It seems as though the garden which you love
Were like a swinging censer, its incense
Floating before us as a reverent act
To sanctify and bless our night of love.
Tell me once more you love me, that 't is you
Yes, really you, I touch, so, with my hand;
And tell me it is by your own free will
That you are here, and that you like to be
Just here, with me, under this sailing pine.
I need to hear it often for my heart
Doubts naturally, and finds it hard to trust.
Ah, Dearest, you are good to love me so,
And yet I would not have it goodness, rather
Excess of selfishness in you to need
Me through and through, as flowers need the sun.
I wonder can it really be that you
And I are here alone, and that the night
Is full of hours, and all the world asleep,
And none can call to you to come away;
For you have given all yourself to me
Making me gentle by your willingness.
Has your life too been waiting for this time,
Not only mine the sharpness of this joy?
Dear Heart, I love you, worship you as though
I were a priest before a holy shrine.
I'm glad that you are beautiful, although
Were you not lovely still I needs must love;
But you are all things, it must have been so
For otherwise it were not you. Come, close;
When you are in the circle of my arm
Faith grows a mountain and I take my stand
Upon its utmost top. Yes, yes, once more
Kiss me, and let me feel you very near
Wanting me wholly, even as I want you.
Have years behind been dark? Will those to come
Bring unguessed sorrows into our two lives?
What does it matter, we have had to-night!
To-night will make us strong, for we believe
Each in the other, this is a sacrament.
Beloved, is it true?

Phew!.....oh mossy it sure is good to have you back!