Good finds from Mountain Goatess and Derby Tup there.
Morning all, I feel a spot of sledging coming on today.
Good finds from Mountain Goatess and Derby Tup there.
Morning all, I feel a spot of sledging coming on today.
I'd love to go sledging but you can't get a hold of a sledge up here for love nor money!!!! have fun harry! (but don't be getting any injuries!)Originally Posted by Harry H Howgill
Bloomin' 'eck its cowd.
Sledging: A sneaky way to
Get some hill reps in
Ah yes...i see where you are coming from Mr Howgll...very clever!
Still without a sledge
may have to substitute
tea tray and broken bones!
Torn.
Quiet intensity stirring deep,
Feelings rise mental turmoil,
Pace the room cannot sleep,
Muscles tensed up like a coil.
Too long mind torn,
Find peace go run,
Snow in face reborn,
Think clear now done.
Days hard Nights are too,
Mind and body split apart,
Tell me please what to do,
Always listen to your heart.
By Matt Harmston.
I really really like this Tri...being torn is one of the most uncomfortable psychological states I think and one which I can relate to...
On a different note...
I have just been given a book by Stephen Fry "The Ode Less Traveled"; Unlocking the Poet Within so plan on educating myself this evening!...lovely
I was going to buy that myself and didn't at the last moment. Drop a post on thread to tell us all if any good.
I certainly will Tri!
Always be drunk
That's it
The great imperative
In order not to feel
Time's horrid fardel
Bruise your shoulders grinding you into the earth
Get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever
But get drunk
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
On the porches of a palace,
In the green grass of a ditch
In the dismal loneliness of your own room
Your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
Ask the wind,
the wave
the star
the bird,
the clock,
Ask everything that flees,
everything that groans or rolls or sings,
everything that speaks,
Ask what time it is;
and the wind, the wave, the star the bird, the clock
will answer you
"Time to get drunk
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk
Stay drunk
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"
Charles Baudelaire
Someone find the real me.
I look inside and long to see,
A thing of beauty looking back at me,
Instead a monster do i find,
That others see and leave behind.
Alone, empty and confused,
Darkness drifting lost my muse,
A singularity of pain splitting my head,
Motionless silent i wish i was dead.
I don't know if i'm in here any more,
Mind and body wrecked to the core,
It might take someone who is me,
To go in and search bring me back to reality.
By Matt Harmston
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