Today's poet

[Derby Tup]

All You Who Sleep Tonight

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right,
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone.
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their lives.

Vikram Seth

Think I might have posted this before but hey ho

[Stef F]

Surveying rooftops

Persistant rain pattering down
creates puddles on the worn out surface.
Note pad in hand I sketch and
take measurements, much to do,
no time to wait for the rain to pass.

Below, office workers go about
their daily chores, oblivious
to what goes on over their heads
damp slowly seeping towards them
through aged screed and concrete.

Seagulls soar overhead
construction continues on a neighbouring site
traffic negotiates a busy junction
shoppers hurry on below sporting
brightly coloured umbrellas and carrier bags

Up here I am alone,
far above the hustle and bustle
note pad in hand I go about my daily chores
oblivious to what goes on down below
happy to be left to my own devices

[Nathaniel Lee]

In with the wrong crowd.

In with the wrong crowd,
Louts and layabouts,
Trashing the estate,
Brick through,
The window of the,
Cafe with the local girls,
Egging you on oh,
You hormonal clown,
Fighting to show her,
That your a man,
So you can have,
A house in the,
Wrong end of town,
And spend your time,
Shagging and drinking,
Your mild you have,
A child who with pride,
You see running wild,
Trashing the estate,
Remember the days.

By Herakles

[Hes]

All You Who Sleep Tonight

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right,
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone.
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their lives.

Vikram Seth

Think I might have posted this before but hey ho

You have and so have I but that is because it is soooo good! Glad you made it a hat trick.

[freckle]

Surveying rooftops

Persistant rain pattering down
creates puddles on the worn out surface.
Note pad in hand I sketch and
take measurements, much to do,
no time to wait for the rain to pass.

Below, office workers go about
their daily chores, oblivious
to what goes on over their heads
damp slowly seeping towards them
through aged screed and concrete.

Seagulls soar overhead
construction continues on a neighbouring site
traffic negotiates a busy junction
shoppers hurry on below sporting
brightly coloured umbrellas and carrier bags

Up here I am alone,
far above the hustle and bustle
note pad in hand I go about my daily chores
oblivious to what goes on down below
happy to be left to my own devices

I like this Stef, i like the urban images you convey especially the umbrellas one...i also like the way you get a sense of different perspectives within the poem...thank you

I am just loitering for a bit on here whilst i try and write...

[freckle]

In with the wrong crowd.

In with the wrong crowd,
Louts and layabouts,
Trashing the estate,
Brick through,
The window of the,
Cafe with the local girls,
Egging you on oh,
You hormonal clown,
Fighting to show her,
That your a man,
So you can have,
A house in the,
Wrong end of town,
And spend your time,
Shagging and drinking,
Your mild you have,
A child who with pride,
You see running wild,
Trashing the estate,
Remember the days.

By Herakles

Your on a role again Matt , don't know how you do it!...nice one

[freckle]

You have and so have I but that is because it is soooo good! Glad you made it a hat trick.

I love that poem, just beautiful , who cares if its been up twice before, still gorgeous!

[Old Whippet]

Brilliant Mossdog, everything comes to he/she who waits
Now if someone would just post 'La Belle Dame sans Merci'

well Alf.... I would never need asking twice. This is the 1st poem I posted here. And as a 14 year old boy, given this to study for 'O' level English Lit, I would never in a million years have thought that 30+ years on, this poem would still haunt me. My fantasy, is a tad different from Keats' in that instead of clad in armour, it would be mudclaws, bum bag and sweaty synthetics, and collapsing at Sprinkling Tarn, the following would unfold....


Original version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1819

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said -
'I love thee true'.

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[freckle]

well Alf.... I would never need asking twice. This is the 1st poem I posted here. And as a 14 year old boy, given this to study for 'O' level English Lit, I would never in a million years have thought that 30+ years on, this poem would still haunt me. My fantasy, is a tad different from Keats' in that instead of clad in armour, it would be mudclaws, bum bag and sweaty synthetics, and collapsing at Sprinkling Tarn, the following would unfold....


Original version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1819

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said -
'I love thee true'.

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gosh that takes me back to the early days of this thread!...........even more beautiful and beguiling now than the first time..............thanks for the reminder Alf and the posting OW...

[Old Whippet]

There's something epic about geese at height - yesterdays were at about 4000 feet headed west towards Scafell


W shaped skein
high overhead morphs into
a broadening smile