Today's poet

[N-dubya]

A Howgill Run

Bowderdale farmsteads,
hushed by grey, clamouring mist,
stare sullen, as a neighbour's scorn.
Baleful hounds raise alarm -
an interloper,
uninvited, synthetic,
antithesis to this world of flax, wool,
the earth and solitary secrets.

Laces tightened, straps pulled, watch glanced,
The Ritual begins.
Final check, and head for West Fell,
dirty snow prised of it's grip,
a gravel spewed trench,
an Eton mess of peat, soil, sheep piss.

Trudge forward,
seeking the metronome of pace-pulse,
an inner equilibrium of effort.
Predictably, doubts descend,
as winter midges,
sirens of despondency;
but I know better,
cultivated refusal to relent,
fuelled, at first, by petite conceits,

The squelch of sodden fell,
steeper ground,
the taunting begins,
the first skirmish with pain.
Yet, entranced by strands of yellowed grass,
a twist of peat,
a subtle shift!
That loosening of identity,
no longer runner,
an impress on the air,
an exhalation of warm, moist breath,
a studded imprint,
allowing the Moment to pull forward.

The Calf, unsuckled, rears,
mist shrouded, then passes;
and the Moment surges onwards,
shedding identity,
a fragmented wake,
black as minums,
singing the efflorescence of spirit
a quiet unity, achieved at last!

this is absolutely brilliant love the lines in the first verse the antithesis to flax and wool, there is a lot of thought gone into this mate top stuff

[N-dubya]

also like the last verse the calf unsuckled I thought you were on about the peak but wasn't sure till i re-read the title nice metaphor

[Harry H Howgill]

I beg to differ with the Guardian I reckon being publicly obnoxious is a pre-requisite of any self respecting writer/poet

Quite right too!

[Harry H Howgill]

That's brilliant Mossy. I love the pace of it and the imagery is sublime. I wish I was out on the fells.

A Howgill Run

Bowderdale farmsteads,
hushed by grey, clamouring mist,
stare sullen, as a neighbour's scorn.
Baleful hounds raise alarm -
an interloper,
uninvited, synthetic,
antithesis to this world of flax, wool,
the earth and solitary secrets.

Laces tightened, straps pulled, watch glanced,
The Ritual begins.
Final check, and head for West Fell,
dirty snow prised of it's grip,
a gravel spewed trench,
an Eton mess of peat, soil, sheep piss.

Trudge forward,
seeking the metronome of pace-pulse,
an inner equilibrium of effort.
Predictably, doubts descend,
as winter midges,
sirens of despondency;
but I know better,
cultivated refusal to relent,
fuelled, at first, by petite conceits,

The squelch of sodden fell,
steeper ground,
the taunting begins,
the first skirmish with pain.
Yet, entranced by strands of yellowed grass,
a twist of peat,
a subtle shift!
That loosening of identity,
no longer runner,
an impress on the air,
an exhalation of warm, moist breath,
a studded imprint,
allowing the Moment to pull forward.

The Calf, unsuckled, rears,
mist shrouded, then passes;
and the Moment surges onwards,
shedding identity,
a fragmented wake,
black as minums,
singing the efflorescence of spirit
a quiet unity, achieved at last!

[Harry H Howgill]

Gosh you 'old' romantic HHH - v. good one though, thanks

I have my moments! Less of the "old" though missus (I must just getting "old" enough to just start feeling sensitive about it!)

[Mossdog]

Cheers guys - HHH, hope the achilles is well on the mend.

[Harry H Howgill]

Cheers guys - HHH, hope the achilles is well on the mend.

Thanks Mossy. Another couple of weeks and it'll be just fine.

I can't wait to get out on the Howgills again after your poem.

[freckle]

A Howgill Run

Bowderdale farmsteads,
hushed by grey, clamouring mist,
stare sullen, as a neighbour's scorn.
Baleful hounds raise alarm -
an interloper,
uninvited, synthetic,
antithesis to this world of flax, wool,
the earth and solitary secrets.

Laces tightened, straps pulled, watch glanced,
The Ritual begins.
Final check, and head for West Fell,
dirty snow prised of it's grip,
a gravel spewed trench,
an Eton mess of peat, soil, sheep piss.

Trudge forward,
seeking the metronome of pace-pulse,
an inner equilibrium of effort.
Predictably, doubts descend,
as winter midges,
sirens of despondency;
but I know better,
cultivated refusal to relent,
fuelled, at first, by petite conceits,

The squelch of sodden fell,
steeper ground,
the taunting begins,
the first skirmish with pain.
Yet, entranced by strands of yellowed grass,
a twist of peat,
a subtle shift!
That loosening of identity,
no longer runner,
an impress on the air,
an exhalation of warm, moist breath,
a studded imprint,
allowing the Moment to pull forward.

The Calf, unsuckled, rears,
mist shrouded, then passes;
and the Moment surges onwards,
shedding identity,
a fragmented wake,
black as minums,
singing the efflorescence of spirit
a quiet unity, achieved at last!

I felt so moved reading this poem Mossy, as NDubya said, clearly much thought has gone into it, there was so much I liked about it I didn't know where to start so I highlighted my fave bits in red. I love the imagery of the metronome and funnily enough tonight when I went for a run I felt a sense on the way back of having acheived a nice melodic rythmn which was almost comforting....i love eton mess too! Brilliant!

[freckle]

Spring is definately in the air this morning. The first Oystercatchers have returned here and are already looking amorous.

Fresh Oystercatchers share
The sun-warmed morning mist.
Wing against soft wing,
Like a pair of coy teenage lovers
Snuggling surreptitiously
Yet willing you to notice
Their proud happiness.

I read this today when I was on a break at work but didn't have a chance to comment, it really lifted my spirits Harry and I think indeed encapsulates the sense in the air today that spring has arrived! the last line is awesome!

[Harry H Howgill]

I read this today when I was on a break at work but didn't have a chance to comment, it really lifted my spirits Harry and I think indeed encapsulates the sense in the air today that spring has arrived! the last line is awesome!

I felt lifted too seeing them stood on that boulder today. I love this time of year when the birdlife all starts courting and nesting. I'm glad I managed to convey something of that feeling.