Today's poet

[stevefoster]

Its an emotional rollercoaster on here Merry! One minute I'm all sad due to Fallen Angel poetry and the next I'm laughing out loud at your witty retorts.

That's life and fell-running, up and down

[stevefoster]

30 miles today, climb, descend, climb
Ready for a rest now
Goodnight all Fell Poets

[Harry H Howgill]

Just been for a late Christmas meal with friends from a gallery where I exhibit my work and occasionaly work at, the menu could have been poetry. The only downside was that the one meat eater there ordered 'locally shot saddle of hare'. Pigeon, rabbit, lamb, etc no probs but local hares...eek: That's one of my models she was eating.

That's another bit of "menu-speak" that grates a little. I've never seen "locally shot" before, as if it makes all the difference; but I guess it saves on food miles! It is normally "pan fried" that winds me up - what bloomin' else would you fry something in?!

[Harry H Howgill]

30 miles today, climb, descend, climb
Ready for a rest now
Goodnight all Fell Poets

You are putting in some good miles Merry. Looks like you'll be well prepared for your BG at this rate.

[freckle]

Send me a leaf

Send me a leaf, but from a bush
That grows at least one half hour
Away from your house, then
You must go and will be strong, and I
Thank you for the pretty leaf.

Bertolt Brecht

morning all

i really like this harry, dead simple and effective!

[freckle]

Hi Tri, I've got to say that I agree with HHH in that I am uncomfortable with critiquing people's original work on the thread because I love the spirit here that we can all write something and we are not being judged. I've written stuff that I feel proud of and poems that were awful but I enjoyed writing for the humour and I have also written poems because I needed to share something heartfelt and the poetry was secondary to the sentiment. The one thing I would say is that in this poem you say that Pablo makes you realise that you must write from the heart, feel love and pain...I think that you always do write from your heart and your subjects are rarely easy ones. If this poem doesn't work so well as the others, maybe it is because you are doing yourself a disservice in it?

Hi there...I agree with the sentiment expressed here. I think your work is very good Tri with regard specifically to this poem I think it is hard to write about other artists or poets without doing yourself down a bit so in that sense I think I prefer your other work. For example the other one you posted last night was really really good. Hope that helps.

[freckle]

The Voice
Thomas Hardy

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,
Leaves around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,
And the woman calling.

[Nathaniel Lee]

Thanks everyone.Anybody doing anything exciting today ?. Oh and i think the t-shirt ideas sound brill.

[N-dubya]

Was this a poem before it was a song because if not, this piece of writing for me challenges the opinion held by some famous writers that songs don't stand up to the same critical gauge as poetry.
I'm going to collect tickets for a Carol Anne Duffy reading this afternoon; details on Keele University Website

He also co-wrote this!!!!, which I never knew. Did any of you?

Mack the Knife

Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear
And he shows them pearly white.
Just a jack knife has Macheath, dear
And he keeps it out of sight.

When the shark bites with his teeth, dear
Scarlet billows start to spread.
Fancy gloves, though, wears Macheath, dear
So there's not a trace of red.

On the side-walk Sunday morning
Lies a body oozing life;
Someone's sneaking 'round the corner.
Is that someone Mack the Knife?

From a tugboat by the river
A cement bag's dropping down;
The cement's just for the weight, dear.
Bet you Mackie's back in town.

Louie Miller disappeared, dear
After drawing out his cash;
And Macheath spends like a sailor.
Did our boy do something rash?

Sukey Tawdry, Jenny Diver,
Polly Peachum, Lucy Brown
Oh, the line forms on the right, dear
Now that Mackie's back in town.

Bertolt Brecht

[Hes]

The Voice
Thomas Hardy

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,
Leaves around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,
And the woman calling.

A lovely choice Freckle. Very wistful.