Today's poet

[freckle]

Ive just had a call...im the new poet laurette (spell check???)

that's fantastic new TT..can i have a share in the sherry?....

http://www.prnewswire.co.uk/cgi/news/release?id=20500

[freckle]

page 83 of the mag reveals an unsuspecting poet....i wonder if he might frequent this thread? ....nice account

[Harry H Howgill]

that's fantastic new TT..can i have a share in the sherry?....

http://www.prnewswire.co.uk/cgi/news/release?id=20500

That's brilliant. I think we should arrange something similar between ourselves.

[Harry H Howgill]

I've got the mag now and seen our poetry!

Thanks for organising it f, H and HHH. Great choices

There were enough great poems for loads more pages. It was great fun pulling it all together. Thanks to all the great poets that made it easy.

[Mossdog]

i like this poem but couldn't cut and paste it all so here is the link.....

http://cerene.wordpress.com/2006/08/...derek-walcott/

Fantastic poem Freckle and what a great website.

I found this:


Blue

Blue, but you are Rose, too,

and buttermilk, but with blood

dots showing through.

A little salty your white

nape boy-wide. Glinting hairs

shoot back of your ears’ Rose

that tongues like to feel

the maze of, slip into the funnel,

tell a thunder-whisper to.

When I kiss, your eyes’ straight

lashes down crisp go like doll’s

blond straws. Glazed iris Roses,

your lids unclose to Blue-ringed

targets, their dark sheen-spokes

almost green. I sink in Blue-

black Rose-heart holes until you

blink. Pink lips, the serrate

folds taste smooth, and Rosehip-

round, the center bud I suck.

I milknip your two Blue-skeined

blown Rose beauties, too, to sniff

their berries’ blood, up stiff

pink tips. You’re white in

patches, only mostly Rose,

buckskin and saltly, speckled

like a sky. I love your spots,

your white neck, Rose, your hair’s

wild straw splash, silk spools

for your ears. But where white

spouts out, spills on your brow

to clear eyepools, wheel shafts

of light, Rose, you are Blue.

by May Swenson

Ain't that one heck of a sensuous poem or what!!!

[Mossdog]

Bloomin' eck...there's more. I can see I'm going to have to be very selective tonight or else risk you 'guys' getting too 'loved-up' (again!). Can't have that on a Thursday evening

The Persistence of Memory

She knew how the sunlight
ran its warm fingers
between her smooth brown thighs,
how her shadow swayed with her skirt
when she walked in front of him.
She felt him following
and with a sidelong glance
shook hair away from her face,
aware how it fell,
faint suggestion of joy,
to the arch of her back.

She knew his want and let it
surround her. She let him
choose the music, pull the blind
unless he wanted it up
so the sun could run pale fingers
from lips to nipples to soft belly hairs.

They both said love was brief
and parted still believing it.
But the years came unasked for,
and still she walks that street
watching her shadow flirt with the sun,
wishing he would follow her again.

Colin Mortin

[Alf]

I will just slip in a bit of Keats again I don't think its been posted before?


When I have fears that I may cease to be

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

John Keats

(Keats died 3 years after writing this sonnet )

[Mossdog]

I will just slip in a bit of Keats again I don't think its been posted before?


When I have fears that I may cease to be

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

John Keats

(Keats died 3 years after writing this sonnet )

Ah...so it's despondency and gloom we're going for, eh!

Ebb

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
Left there by the tide,
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Where's those tissues?....snivel

[Stolly]

Dead impressed with the poems in the fellrunner magazine, big round of applause from me <clap clap clap clap clap clap>. And was the background picture Hes's own work? Fantastic. And why didn't Hes's poem about her own headtorch run make the grade; its possibly the best of a very good bunch if you ask me. Anyway well done guys.

[freckle]

Ah...so it's despondency and gloom we're going for, eh!

Ebb

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
Left there by the tide,
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Where's those tissues?....snivel

I really like this and also the "friday night" poems posted by mossy...i'll be re reading them later on!