Today's poet

[Hes]

Found a collection of her work, I think she's great.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio2/shows/vine/poem.shtml
Good one for Derby Tup:

Tea

Backbone of the British nations,
Stiffener of upper lips,
All the isles' rejuvenations:
Lipton's, Typhoo, PG Tips.

Hitler, death, divorce or child-birth;
After stern, hard times are gone,
Britain reaches for her teabags,
Sighs and puts the kettle on.

Shall we? Assam or Darjeeling ?
Orange Pekoe or Earl Grey?
Nothing gives so firm a feeling
We can fight another day.

Those with damned eccentric palates
May prefer the Camomile,
Rosehip, Fennel, Nettle, Kiwi.
Drink that good-time muck awhile.

But, when sad, bad times are on us;
Change or bombs or lovers gone,
Britain yearns a proper cuppa,
Sighs and puts her kettle on.

Lucy Berry

Brilliant, thanks Chubbs. I have been drinking a lot of tea lately and it certainly has made me feel better.

[Harry H Howgill]

I just read that again, and on first reading I thought that it was because something horrible was going to happen to the kiddies, but it is just about growing up I think now, so that's not such a bad thing.

Heard this earlier in the week, it touched me and knew it would strike a chord with most on this thread. Forgive me but don't know the title.

The father reading to his girl
some little tale they always read
is unaware that this may be
the last one that she'll ever need
she's grown past stories softly read
by daddy sitting on the bed.

The mother with her muddy son
kicking a football in the park
cannot sense as they wander home
through chilly, soft approaching dark
this was the last time they'd come out
to kick that happy ball about.

How secret sneaky-soft they come
those last times when we'll kiss it better
hold their hand across the road
or lift them up to post a letter
they pass unmarked, unnoticed for
we're not so needed anymore.

So the abandoned fairy tales and
nursery rhymes that mummy sings
leave behind soft toys and us
and put away their childish things
a loss so small, our loss the greater
un-missed, un-mourned until years later.

Lucy Berry

[freckle]

short and sweet.....

Its Platonic

Platonic my eye,

I yearn
for the fullness
of your tongue
making me
burst forth
pleasure after pleasure,
after dark,

soaking all my dreams.

Rita Ann Higgins

[Harry H Howgill]

"Platonic my eye" I like that line!

short and sweet.....

Its Platonic

Platonic my eye,

I yearn
for the fullness
of your tongue
making me
burst forth
pleasure after pleasure,
after dark,

soaking all my dreams.

Rita Ann Higgins

[freckle]

[quote=Stef F;310156]Good evening Freckle

My fire alarm is up and running
it took two batteries the greedy thing
now I can sleep easy in my bed!

Phew!........me too nice one stef

[Hes]

A lovely and thoughtful poem, but there are some things I don't like to dwell on for too long.

I may not have kids but I can relate to the poem...I remember the day when I realised that my little terrier would soon no longer fit in my backpack when I went cycling....it was a day of sadness...now she is chubby, grumpy, hairy and a bit deaf, I guess it happens to us all!

[Hes]

short and sweet.....

Its Platonic

Platonic my eye,

I yearn
for the fullness
of your tongue
making me
burst forth
pleasure after pleasure,
after dark,

soaking all my dreams.

Rita Ann Higgins

pheww...that's short and to the point, very steamy!! I like it

[Harry H Howgill]

Just to add to the list of vehicular mishaps that seem to have happened to fell poets recently, I managed to fall of my bike tonight. While it was stationary on the turbo! One minute I was peddling quite enthusiastically, next minute draped over the tumble dryer with the instant shock turning to giggles.

Note to self: Check back wheel is fastened on correctly before starting next time.

[Hes]

Kisses

Kisses kept are wasted;
Love is to be tasted.
There are some you love, I know;
Be not loathe to tell them so.
Lips go dry and eyes grow wet
Waiting to be warmly met.
Keep them not in waiting yet;
Kisses kept are wasted.

Edmund Vance Cooke

[freckle]

Alf's poem about dreams was lovely and it somehow reminded me of one of my all time fave's which was posted in the early days of this thread.....

Lullaby

Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Time and fevers burn away
Individual beauty from
Thoughtful children, and the grave
Proves the child ephemeral:
But in my arms till break of day
Let the living creature lie,
Mortal, guility, but to me
The entirely beautiful.

Soul and body have no bounds:
To lovers as they lie upon
Her tolerant enchanted slope
In their ordinary swoon,
Grave the vision Venus sends
Of supernatural sympathy,
Universal love and hope;
While abstract insight wakes
Among the glaciers and the rocks
The hermit's sensual ecstasy.

Certainty, fidelity
On the stroke of midnight pass
Like vibrations of a bell,
And fashionable madmen raise
Their pedantic boring cry:
Every farthing of the cost,
All the dreaded cards foretell,
Shall be paid, but from this night
Not a whisper, not a thought,
Not a kiss nor look be lost.

Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of sweetness show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find your mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness see you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.

W.H. Auden