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Thread: Today's poet

  1. #6721
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    Re: Today's poet

    Christ Mossy - that's damned good!

    "an Eton mess of peat, soil, sheep piss." is my favourite among many favourite lines.

  2. #6722
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    Re: Today's poet

    funnily I had been recently lamenting the recent lack of HHH originals compared to when the thread started. I love the Oyster Catcher poem, and I reckon if it was compared to some of the early HHH, a new richness would be apparent. And the MD Howgill poem hits the right spot in so many ways. Good to see originals among the well chosen published poems today.

  3. #6723
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    Re: Today's poet

    Alas, I am something of a stranger to the thread these days as I snowed under with work.

    Mossdog, your poem was absolutely brilliant. Every line was obviously really carefully thought out and the imagery was wonderful. I think it is one of the best that we've had on the thread in ages. It makes me want to go on a long run if only to try and gain inspiration again...roll on Thursday!

    HHH, I loved your oystercatcher poem. It was so sweet and I too really enjoy this time of year. After last night's excitement of the eagle owl, I have just been appreciating the smaller birds such as a gorgeous little blue tit rescued from the road this morning and the curlews calling in the fields.

  4. #6724
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    Re: Today's poet

    Owl

    Is my favourite. Who flies
    like a nothing through the night,
    who-whoing. Is a feather
    duster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ing
    boles of mice. Twice

    you hear him call. Who
    is he looking for? You hear
    him hoovering over the floor
    of the wood. O would you be gold
    rings in the driving skull

    if you could? Hooded and
    vulnerable by the winter suns
    owl looks. Is the grain of bark
    in the dark. Round beaks are at
    work in the pellety nest,

    working. Owl is an eye
    in the barn. For a hole
    in the trunk owl's blood
    is to blame. Black talons in the
    petrified fur! Cold walnut hands

    on the case of the brain! In the reign
    of the chicken owl comes like
    a god. Is a goad in
    the rain to the pink eyes,
    dripping. For a meal in the day

    flew, killed, on the moor. Six
    mouths are the seed of his
    arc in the season. Torn meat
    from the sky. Owl lives
    by the claws of his brain. On the branch

    in the sever of the hand's
    twigs owl is a backward look.
    Flown wind in the skin. Fine
    Rain in the bones. Owl breaks
    Like the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

    George MacBeth

  5. #6725

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Hes View Post
    Alas, I am something of a stranger to the thread these days as I snowed under with work.

    Mossdog, your poem was absolutely brilliant. Every line was obviously really carefully thought out and the imagery was wonderful. I think it is one of the best that we've had on the thread in ages. It makes me want to go on a long run if only to try and gain inspiration again...roll on Thursday!

    HHH, I loved your oystercatcher poem. It was so sweet and I too really enjoy this time of year. After last night's excitement of the eagle owl, I have just been appreciating the smaller birds such as a gorgeous little blue tit rescued from the road this morning and the curlews calling in the fields.
    Don't forget to have a break now and then Hes!..... speaking of which think i will hit the hay soon but just wanted to say hi!

  6. #6726
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    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by freckle View Post
    Don't forget to have a break now and then Hes!..... speaking of which think i will hit the hay soon but just wanted to say hi!
    Hi Freckle, nice to see you even if it is brief, I need to get a bath and go to bed too so I'll say goodnight but hope to catch you here again soon.xx

  7. #6727

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Hes View Post
    Hi Freckle, nice to see you even if it is brief, I need to get a bath and go to bed too so I'll say goodnight but hope to catch you here again soon.xx
    Night wandering star
    sleep sweetly
    and rise renewed

    x

  8. #6728
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    Re: Today's poet

    One for the early risers

    A gentle but persistant tune
    steals the peace of deepest sleep
    surely it can't be morning yet?
    what kind of time is this to keep?

    I stumble clumsily, eyes half closed
    wincing as I stub my toes
    the tears well, oh damn it hurts,
    where did I put my running clothes?

    As I hear the dawn chorus
    half blind, ouch, another bump,
    I fight the urge to sneak back to bed
    I must not be such a lazy grump!

    Another bruise, I find my clothes
    and get dressed with only a little haste
    what's that spattered down my top?
    No way? and yuck, I've dribbled toothpaste!

    Cursing my insanity
    I emerge into morning sun,
    sharp frost and brightness shock my senses
    I start my watch and begin to run

    Arms and legs at first reluctant
    soon respond as I find my pace
    chuffed to be up and out this early
    steady on Stef, this isn't a race!

    Five miles later, and still in one piece,
    I arrive home hot, sweaty and panting
    refreshed and ready to face the day
    no longer do I feel like ranting!

    I take a moment to reflect
    on how good it is to feel the power
    of muscles strong and lungs filled full,
    and afterwards a nice hot shower!



    Oh boy, that wasn't easy to write. I hope it doesn't read like hard work.

    Stef
    Last edited by Stef F; 03-03-2010 at 03:45 AM.

  9. #6729
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    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Stef F View Post
    One for the early risers

    A gentle but persistant tune
    steals the peace of deepest sleep
    surely it can't be morning yet?
    what kind of time is this to keep?

    I stumble clumsily, eyes half closed
    wincing as I stub my toes
    the tears well, oh damn it hurts,
    where did I put my running clothes?

    As I hear the dawn chorus
    half blind, ouch, another bump,
    I fight the urge to sneak back to bed
    I must not be such a lazy grump!

    Another bruise, I find my clothes
    and get dressed with only a little haste
    what's that spattered down my top?
    No way? and yuck, I've dribbled toothpaste!

    Cursing my insanity
    I emerge into morning sun,
    sharp frost and brightness shock my senses
    I start my watch and begin to run

    Arms and legs at first reluctant
    soon respond as I find my pace
    chuffed to be up and out this early
    steady on Stef, this isn't a race!

    Five miles later, and still in one piece,
    I arrive home hot, sweaty and panting
    refreshed and ready to face the day
    no longer do I feel like ranting!

    I take a moment to reflect
    on how good it is to feel the power
    of muscles strong and lungs filled full,
    and afterwards a nice hot shower!



    Oh boy, that wasn't easy to write. I hope it doesn't read like hard work.

    Stef
    Good one Stef, morning sun at 2.25 though

  10. #6730
    Master
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    6,158

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Hes View Post
    Owl

    Is my favourite. Who flies
    like a nothing through the night,
    who-whoing. Is a feather
    duster in leafy corners ring-a-rosy-ing
    boles of mice. Twice

    you hear him call. Who
    is he looking for? You hear
    him hoovering over the floor
    of the wood. O would you be gold
    rings in the driving skull

    if you could?
    Hooded and
    vulnerable by the winter suns
    owl looks. Is the grain of bark
    in the dark. Round beaks are at
    work in the pellety nest,

    working. Owl is an eye
    in the barn. For a hole
    in the trunk owl's blood
    is to blame. Black talons in the
    petrified fur! Cold walnut hands

    on the case of the brain! In the reign
    of the chicken owl comes like
    a god. Is a goad in
    the rain to the pink eyes,
    dripping. For a meal in the day

    flew, killed, on the moor. Six
    mouths are the seed of his
    arc in the season. Torn meat
    from the sky. Owl lives
    by the claws of his brain
    . On the branch

    in the sever of the hand's
    twigs owl is a backward look.
    Flown wind in the skin. Fine
    Rain in the bones. Owl breaks
    Like the day. Am an owl, am an owl.

    George MacBeth
    Good selection Hes I love the way the poem is a mixture of soft longer and hard shorter lines which fits perfectly with the soft appearance and hard actions of an owl itself.

    I enjoyed Mossdog's poem and Stefs poem about running very much as well.
    I must admit I didn't get the "Eton mess" line and felt a bit ignorant asking but have just googled it so now I know

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