Today's poet

[Harry H Howgill]

Ode to Sadness

Sadness, scarab
with seven crippled feet,
spiderweb egg,
scramble-brained rat,
bitch's skeleton:
No entry here.
Don't come in.
Go away.
Go back
south with your umbrella,
go back
north with your serpent's teeth.
A poet lives here.
No sadness may
cross this threshold.
Through these windows
comes the breath of the world,
fresh red roses,
flags embroidered with
the victories of the people.
No.
No entry.
Flap
your bat's wings,
I will trample the feathers
that fall from your mantle,
I will sweep the bits and pieces
of your carcass to
the four corners of the wind,
I will wring your neck,
I will stitch your eyelids shut,
I will sew your shroud,
sadness, and bury your rodent bones
beneath the springtime of an apple tree.

Pablo Neruda


Good old Neruda...some of us have to make do with a run to remedy sadness.

It is that kind of day. I hope your endorphine fix helped bring back a grin.

[Harry H Howgill]

Friday night cuppa
Put my feet up for 5 mins
Shame I've no biccies.

[Harry H Howgill]

unexpected moon
rises large above beech wood
see tranquility

[Harry H Howgill]

Still wishing people
A Happy New Year. Blimey!
January gone!

[Nathaniel Lee]

Forgotten Clown.

There is nothing so sad as the clown,
Whose lost his audience who no longer mass,
He looks out into the stalls checking up and down,
The revellers are gone like whisky in the clowns glass.

Forlorn he stands alone in his baggy pants and too tight coat,
A tear runs down his cheek smudging the drawn on stubble,
Returning to his dressing room he leaves a solemn note,
He's sorry for pulling in a favour with the manager and all the trouble.

Wandering outside passing through the fog strewn street,
He smells the acrid stench of industry and makes his way to the river,
There was a time they would flock to him throw flowers at his feet,
He jumps into the icy cold it takes his breath he's now at peace forever.

By Matt Harmston.

[Harry H Howgill]

Scatttergun approach.
Meaning quality versus
Quantity verses

[Nathaniel Lee]

Scattergun.

A scattergun approach is very good,
As it leads to instinctual poetry written down,
It is also less painful no sweat or blood,
And if it works your talk of the town.

By Matt

[Harry H Howgill]

Forgotten Clown.

There is nothing so sad as the clown,
Whose lost his audience who no longer mass,
He looks out into the stalls checking up and down,
The revellers are gone like whisky in the clowns glass.

Forlorn he stands alone in his baggy pants and too tight coat,
A tear runs down his cheek smudging the drawn on stubble,
Returning to his dressing room he leaves a solemn note,
He's sorry for pulling in a favour with the manager and all the trouble.

Wandering outside passing through the fog strewn street,
He smells the acrid stench of industry and makes his way to the river,
There was a time they would flock to him throw flowers at his feet,
He jumps into the icy cold it takes his breath he's now at peace forever.

By Matt Harmston.

Evening TM. I hope you had a good day. Another good poem.

[Harry H Howgill]

Scattergun.

A scattergun approach is very good,
As it leads to instinctual poetry written down,
It is also less painful no sweat or blood,
And if it works your talk of the town.

By Matt

I think you are right. If it works it works, if it doesn't then it doesn't matter. A great attitude.

Off now, but back later.

[freckle]

Scattergun.

A scattergun approach is very good,
As it leads to instinctual poetry written down,
It is also less painful no sweat or blood,
And if it works your talk of the town.

By Matt

Love this Ttri ...think i use this approach