Today's poet

[Harry H Howgill]

well man of many h's - that's spookily appropriate!
Liked your gloom busting poem. Must delve into this Rory Motion person.
You and your levity!

Evening OW

Sometimes you just find the perfect one.

He's a rather fine artist too...

http://www.rorymotion.co.uk/gallery.htm

[Mossdog]

Great choice Mossy.

Thanks HHH and Happy Birthday Freckle. I've recently come across this apposite poem...

Silence the colour of snow

Silence the colour of snow
settles against everything we love –
the late, startled flowers, the roadside stones –
all edge softened, all calamities blurred.
Why do you accuse me of never talking with you?
You know, they used to say that
if every tongue in the world were stilled at once,
the common silence would translate itself
to a snow that summer winds
could never drive away. Hush now, not another word.
Look! High over the frozen roofs,
my answer hangs and falls, that six-fingered star.

John Glenday

[Derby Tup]

Beautiful Mossy!

Thanks HHH and Happy Birthday Freckle. I've recently come across this apposite poem...

Silence the colour of snow

Silence the colour of snow
settles against everything we love –
the late, startled flowers, the roadside stones –
all edge softened, all calamities blurred.
Why do you accuse me of never talking with you?
You know, they used to say that
if every tongue in the world were stilled at once,
the common silence would translate itself
to a snow that summer winds
could never drive away. Hush now, not another word.
Look! High over the frozen roofs,
my answer hangs and falls, that six-fingered star.

John Glenday

[Mossdog]

Thanks HHH and Happy Birthday Freckle. I've recently come across this apposite poem...

Silence the colour of snow

Silence the colour of snow
settles against everything we love –
the late, startled flowers, the roadside stones –
all edge softened, all calamities blurred.
Why do you accuse me of never talking with you?
You know, they used to say that
if every tongue in the world were stilled at once,
the common silence would translate itself
to a snow that summer winds
could never drive away. Hush now, not another word.
Look! High over the frozen roofs,
my answer hangs and falls, that six-fingered star.

John Glenday

Yes, there's a lot to be said for silence (sorry, couldn't resist)

[Harry H Howgill]

Yes, there's a lot to be said for silence (sorry, couldn't resist)

Very good Mossy

Night all

[freckle]

Yes, there's a lot to be said for silence (sorry, couldn't resist)

beautiful poem mossy thank you

[freckle]

Flying at night

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.

Ted Kooser

[Derby Tup]

aged Wharfedale oak
half a millenium old
naked, defiant

[freckle]

aged Wharfedale oak
half a millenium old
naked, defiant

Thats beautiful DT....

[Mossdog]

A Snow Burial
by: Florence Peacock


Dream not of spring-tide's blossoms,
They perished long ago,
And all dead summer's roses
Are past; the autumn's glow
Has faded from the woodland;
The world is white with snow.

The sea lies grey below me,
Above the trees are bare,
The brook is hush'd and silent,
Whose music filled the air,
That far off day in summer,
When we two wander'd there.

What dreams, like spring, have vanished;
What radiant joy, what fears,
What hopes that never ripened,
What summers wet with tears,
What vain regrets, what longings,
Lie buried with past years.

To me the breath of winter,
Is welcome, for I know
No other voice will mingle
With hers above the snow;
In spring tide and in autumn,
Across the long-ago

Your voice seems ever calling;
And I may not forget
The days when roses blossom'd.
A life-time of regret
Has made me love the winter
Because we never met,

But with blue skies above us;
No footprint on the snow,
Calls back the days departed,
To me the summer's glow
Comes but to stir a memory,
Deep buried mid the snow.