Today's poet

[freckle]

Running to Discover

My bruised mind,
battered by the chaos of India,
finds solace in the stillness of home.
Running through the dimming light
the fog hides and transforms
the once familiar trees and hedges.
An air pregnant with possibility
gives birth to startling sounds.
The squawk of a disgruntled guinea fowl
as my bouncing torch beam
picks out its sleeping form.
A low mournful bellow,
milk-swollen and patient,
the cows await their master.
Sulphurous light spills from the barn
where the strains of a violin
drift away in the mist.
The sullen farmer’s melancholic choice,
surprising and beautiful,
makes me wonder.
My ears ring with the sounds of the wind
and my heartbeat as I ascend.
Gritty, muddy footfalls splashing up the hill.
A clattering in the branches
as a pheasant takes fright.
Below the bridge a torrent rages
the stream now a river,
gorged by the thaw.
Nearing home and
the unfamiliar shape ahead turns
revealing a winter-weary mare
She lowers her head
as we both discover
Who I am.

This is absolutely stunning Hes! well done! particularly like the last line...........wow!

[Derby Tup]

Hes, I like that as much as any original work we've had. Loved 'gorged by the thaw'!

[freckle]

Aye, you can always rely on me to lower the tone like!......

Hot and cold

A woman who my mother knows
Came in and took off all her clothes.

Said I, not being very old,
'By golly gosh, you must be cold!'

'No, no!' she cried. 'Indeed I'm not!
I'm feeling devilishly hot!'

Roald Dahl

[IanDarkpeak]

Aye, you can always rely on me to lower the tone like!......

Hot and cold

A woman who my mother knows
Came in and took off all her clothes.

Said I, not being very old,
'By golly gosh, you must be cold!'

'No, no!' she cried. 'Indeed I'm not!
I'm feeling devilishly hot!'

Roald Dahl

I like a good Dahl

[Nathaniel Lee]

Hes that was fantastic. I like the Dahl too.

[Nathaniel Lee]

Life without Love.

I once had aphrodites ear, no more,
Just withering looks and evil incantations,
My free and endless love in a cage with locked door,
Life is empty, silent, devoid of infatuations.

In a world of billions i'm truly alone,
Transparent, invisible cursing my conception,
Should have never been here not born,
Then i wouldn't have to feel this emotional infection.

On my headstone damaged and among thorns and weed,
No-one can quite see as nobodies been,
Where there should be an epitaph no words to read,
No meaning to death just like the life that been.

By Matt Harmston

[freckle]

Life without Love.

I once had aphrodites ear, no more,
Just withering looks and evil incantations,
My free and endless love in a cage with locked door,
Life is empty, silent, devoid of infatuations.

In a world of billions i'm truly alone,
Transparent, invisible cursing my conception,
Should have never been here not born,
Then i wouldn't have to feel this emotional infection.

On my headstone damaged and among thorns and weed,
No-one can quite see as nobodies been,
Where there should be an epitaph no words to read,
No meaning to death just like the life that been.

By Matt Harmston

liking the term "emotional infection" tri

[Mossdog]

Running to Discover

My bruised mind,
battered by the chaos of India,
finds solace in the stillness of home.
Running through the dimming light
the fog hides and transforms
the once familiar trees and hedges.
An air pregnant with possibility
gives birth to startling sounds.
The squawk of a disgruntled guinea fowl
as my bouncing torch beam
picks out its sleeping form.
A low mournful bellow,
milk-swollen and patient,
the cows await their master.
Sulphurous light spills from the barn
where the strains of a violin
drift away in the mist.
The sullen farmer’s melancholic choice,
surprising and beautiful,
makes me wonder.
My ears ring with the sounds of the wind
and my heartbeat as I ascend.
Gritty, muddy footfalls splashing up the hill.
A clattering in the branches
as a pheasant takes fright.
Below the bridge a torrent rages
the stream now a river,
gorged by the thaw.
Nearing home and
the unfamiliar shape ahead turns
revealing a winter-weary mare
She lowers her head
as we both discover
Who I am.

Magnifico! Hes

The Kama Sutra of Kindness: Position No. 2

should I greet you
as if
we had merely eaten
together one night
when the white birches
dripped wet
and lightning etched
black trees on your walls?

it is not love
I am asking

love comes from years
of breathing
skin to skin
tangled in each other's dreams
until each night
weaves another thread
in the same web
of blood and sleep

and I have only
passed through you quickly
like light
and you have only
surrounded me suddenly
like flame

the lake is cold
the snows are sudden
the wild cherry bends
and winter's a burden

in your hand I feel
spring burn in the bud.

Mary Mackey

[freckle]

Mossy...i love this line and wish I had wrote it....

in your hand I feel
spring burn in the bud.

nice one

[Mossdog]

liking the term "emotional infection" tri

I agree. What a beautifully written and 'strong' poem TM. But raises the question......

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

From Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem In Memoriam:27

I watched a German subtitled dvd of the film 'North Face' last night. In a final scene, one of the characters reflected that "to have loved is to have lived, and I have lived..."

Any thoughts on this issues, poems to challenge/support this proposition?