Today's poet

[Harry H Howgill]

running up the hill
lips smart from icy kisses
of wind driven sleet

Bloomin' 'eck it was chilly again this afternoon. It was snowing at S*H*A*P 4077th this afternoon.

[Harry H Howgill]

I'm sure your all aware of this most spiffing site, but if not have a look i'ts genius http://www.thechap.net/index.html

I'd not seen that before. I like the style!

[Harry H Howgill]

The Sound of the Trees

by: Robert Frost (1874-1963)



I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

[Mossdog]

Fine snow strokes my face
lanolin and silage air
run into the dark.

[Mossdog]

The Sound of the Trees

by: Robert Frost (1874-1963)



I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

That's lovely HHH, thank you

[Derby Tup]

The Company of the Birds

Ah the company of the birds
I loved and cherished on earth
Now, freed of flesh we fly
Together, a flock of beating wings,
I am as light, as feathery,
As gone from gravity we soar
In endless circles.

Sasha Moorsom

[Stef F]

Winds Light to Disastrous

By Spike Milligan

As I sipped morning tea
A gale (force three)
Blew away a slice of toast
Then a gale (force 4)
Blew my wife out the door,
I wonder which I'll miss the most.
She was still alive
When a gale (force five)
Blew her screaming o'er Golders Green,
When a gale (force six) blew
And it took her to
A mosque in the Medanine.
Now I pray to heaven
That a gale (force seven)
Will whisk her father still,*
Let a gale (force eight)
Land her on the plate
Of a cannibal in Brazil.
As I sat down to dine
A gale (force nine)
Blew away my chips and spam
But! (a gale force ten)
Blew them back again,
What a lucky man I am!

(*Father Still, a stationary priest)

[Mossdog]

The North Pennine hills
an awful lot of nothing
exquisitely - free!

[Harry H Howgill]

The North Pennine hills
an awful lot of nothing
exquisitely - free!

I love the Spike Milligan. Father Still.

Lovely haiku too.

[Derby Tup]

What is this life if, full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare

Leisure by W. H. Davies