Today's poet

[Harry H Howgill]

Goodnight Harry, hope the HHH family is well

Night Merry

[Mud]

That's lovely. I'm guessing that is Wordworth? Or am I miles off?

Yes, William's sister, talking about this.

[freckle]

night all too tired x

[stevefoster]

night all too tired x

Night freckle, get some rest and renewal

[Hes]

Winter Solitude

I saw the city's towers on a luminous pale-gray sky;
Beyond them a hill of the softest mistiest green,
With naught but frost and the coming of night between,
And a long thin cloud above the colour of August rye.
I sat in the midst of a plain on my snowshoes with bended knee
Where the thin wind stung my cheeks,
And the hard snow ran in little ripples and peaks,
Like the fretted floor of a white and petrified sea.
And a strange peace gathered about my soul and shone,
As I sat reflecting there,
In a world so mystically fair,
So deathly silent--I so utterly alone.

Archibald Lampman

Now that's more like it. Still wasn't quite what I was looking for but I guess I'll have to write one myself!

[Hes]

night all too tired x

Night Freckle, look after yourself. x

[Nathaniel Lee]

Some great stuff tonight from new contributors and regulars.

[Hes]

Its my bedtime too, goodnight one and all.

[stevefoster]

Winter Solitude

I saw the city's towers on a luminous pale-gray sky;
Beyond them a hill of the softest mistiest green,
With naught but frost and the coming of night between,
And a long thin cloud above the colour of August rye.
I sat in the midst of a plain on my snowshoes with bended knee
Where the thin wind stung my cheeks,
And the hard snow ran in little ripples and peaks,
Like the fretted floor of a white and petrified sea.
And a strange peace gathered about my soul and shone,
As I sat reflecting there,
In a world so mystically fair,
So deathly silent--I so utterly alone.

Archibald Lampman

Now that's more like it. Still wasn't quite what I was looking for but I guess I'll have to write one myself!

Solitude is something you dream of when the kid's are playing up, but when you have it, you miss the little angels.
Look forward to reading your poem Hes.
Night all

[Old Whippet]

Here she sits alone
full of hope and dreams once lost
of logs burning in the hearth,
fresh bread loaded on the prongs
held carefully over embers glowing

Outside the wind howls,
rain pounding window panes
rabbits snug within their burrows
not a care in the world
sheltered safely from the winter storm

Candles gutter in a draught not felt
the warm flickering bringing peace and calm
smells of applewood burning
a vision of blossom on the tree
the taste of toast and butter melting

How lucky that she can dream
when so far from all
that is loved and cherished
for the reality that she knows
shows no mercy on the tender soul

gosh! I enjoyed the imagery, but how sad. A lovely poem. It's great to see original work here.