Today's poet

[Mossdog]

You two can fight it out over your handbags at the AW.

If only, but I guess I'm just more a lover than fighter in life HHH

[Mossdog]

Oooooo I like a challenge!


Definitions

Hoo man Mossy,
Wor frecks is belta,
Aye she’s right clivva,
divin’t dis the freckle,
she might get monged
and she is not minted,
but she knaas her Geordie slang,
and “lush” is geet lovely or nice,
but hey ney botha mossy,
I’ll no take offence,
a pint of snecklifter or two,
after the AW,
and all the radgieness will disappear,
all thoughts of you being a Heed the Baal,
gone forever!

:

[Mossdog]

Still


A long day,
a tiring day,
I lie,
we lie,
wordless,
in each others arms,
the balm of silence and warmth between us,
and watch without sight
as the days woes wash away
into the ink of the night.

Now that really is gert lush

[Mossdog]

Edale Skyline

Skyline of Edale
Peat bogs, snow holes, icy cold
Will I survive it?

I can't wait for the weekend. Hope it doesn't rain too much.

First camping expo
of the year. Hip hip hurrah,
three cheers for canvass

Blimey our Stef F
you really have the rhythm
Go Girl Go Edale!

[Stef F]

Blimey our Stef F
you really have the rhythm
Go Girl Go Edale!

Thanks

[Harry H Howgill]

If only, but I guess I'm just more a lover than fighter in life HHH

Good answer Mossy.

[Harry H Howgill]

:

And I thought you were a local!

[freckle]

One art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

[Hes]

A running question for Hes - I figure she'll be more likely to read it here .

So Hes, a bit outside of Masham, Pateley Bridge and Nidderdale I know but have you ever run a loop up Simon's Seat, starting off from say Greenhow or Stump Cross Caverns? I drive this way fairly often returning towards home from Wetherby/the A1 and the moor always looks fabulous, usually with a dark, slightly ominous Simon's Seat brooding in the background. I suspect I could just stop the car, put my running togs on and hack a route there and back either way but, given that you are based in that neck of the woods, I thought you may have run there once or twice? I can see a couple of cart tracks on the map that I'm sure will do the job but that looks all too straight forward and boring. (I know Simon's Seat and Barden Fell really well but have always run it from Bolton Abbey/Cavendish Pavillion/Devonshire Arms).

Apologies for not being skilled enough to put that to rhyme

Hi Stolly, sorry for the delay...work has been hellish. I do know Simon's seat but haven't done a run from Greenhow or Stump Cross Caverns, sounds like a good idea though.

[Hes]

It’s the penultimate headtorch run of the year,
The usual format: dash up a hill, then drink beer,
We all start off in scenic Appletreewick,
The usual faces: Grifter, Millipede, Brett and Stick

Along the flowing Wharfe we all trot,
Then up to Simon’s Seat, that’s our spot,
Me and Millipede plod along at the back,
Enjoying post Hobble gossip, savouring the craic

To let everyone through, I open a gate,
And up in the trees there’s an owl calling its mate,
The fields are full of lambs and ewes,
As my mind turns to post-run booze

Ace descender Ted leads the pack home,
This is his country; the Dale’s where he roams,
While seeing him rapidly flying past,
It dawns quickly on us that we’ll be the last

After the run, it’s into the Craven to quench our thirst,
Where to start? Bronte Bitter for me first,
The Hetton Pale Ale is really great,
And Moorhouse’s of Burnley is supped by the crate

When we’ve finally finished our ale,
It’s time to wander home, back down the Dale,
With thoughts of summer evenings and our next run,
Being out in the dark is great but it’s hard to beat the sun!

That's excellent DT! Really good work, I like it a lot.