Today's poet

[Hes]

Speak Of The North! A Lonely Moor

Speak of the North! A lonely moor
Silent and dark and tractless swells,
The waves of some wild streamlet pour
Hurriedly through its ferny dells.

Profoundly still the twilight air,
Lifeless the landscape; so we deem
Till like a phantom gliding near
A stag bends down to drink the stream.

And far away a mountain zone,
A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies,
And one star, large and soft and lone,
Silently lights the unclouded skies.

by Charlotte Bronte

What an apt choice XRunner. I have been researching walks around Haworth as a last minute project for an over-worked friend.

Nice change of Avatar! Thanks.

[Mossdog]

The time before death

by Kabir

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think... and think... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time
before death.

If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,
do you think
ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will rejoin with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten--
that is all fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the
City of Death.

If you make love with the divine now, in the next
life you will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!

Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for,
it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that
does all the work.
Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.

This moving poem and your previous post Frecks would seem to suggest that you're in a particualrly comtemplative frame of mind at present - hope it's productive in a therapeutic sense.

Sorry to hear about the injury - I can empathise as I ended up with a back injury from gardening last week end - sheer the ignominy of it!!! It could have least have happened while intrepidly flying full pelt on the fells

[Hes]

Might I curl up with you
warmed and sheltered
like the new lamb tucked
against its mother ewe?

Might I join you in peaceful slumber
close by your side
snug like hand in glove
torseau to lumbar?

Might I wake up with you
refreshed and renewed
like the rising sun
bringing cheer to all that we do?

And might this just be
the perfect ending
and the perfect beginning
for anyone, not just you and me?

Good night, my dear,
I dream that the past has passed
and the new is beginning
and that beginning be drawing near

Oh wow, you get better with each poem Stef. This is really lovely. Has real resonance for so many too.

[Hes]

I've been writing a few recently here's a new one I don't want to over explin this one although you might not know what I am harping on about

I am a blob of gravy on a painting
by Ternce Cuneo. Hiding amongst
brushstroked darkness, besides the
thick impasto muzzle flash. A variation

in trajectory, would see me an inch into
that chrome orange and vermillion red,
brash as an evening fair in late August.

How i got here is a mystery, perhaps
projected through the air from a knife
of the regimental silver or flicked
in silent contempt from a saluting
middle finger. Not even the ellusive

mouse freely skipping across spilled
ammunition tins is aware of me, but why
should he be, I'm a dried raw umber skin
that once was a blob of gravy.

I really like this NDubya. Am particularly enjoying the art theme. I am intrigued and will reread a few times until the germ of the idea that I have (with regards to its meaning) becomes clearer.

[Hes]

I, with rain-soaked hair
motionless after motion
watching rain-soaked hares

[freckle]

This moving poem and your previous post Frecks would seem to suggest that you're in a particualrly comtemplative frame of mind at present - hope it's productive in a therapeutic sense.

Sorry to hear about the injury - I can empathise as I ended up with a back injury from gardening last week end - sheer the ignominy of it!!! It could have least have happened while intrepidly flying full pelt on the fells

Thanks Mossy, it is getting bit better already, i ignored common sense and took some ibuprofen then went for a short run ! seems to have helped! Hope your back improves soon.....you are right about the contemplation thing....also finding it hard to write at the moment but really enjoying others work, Hes tonight's haiku was gorgeous well done....

[Mossdog]

I've been writing a few recently here's a new one I don't want to over explin this one although you might not know what I am harping on about

I am a blob of gravy on a painting
by Ternce Cuneo. Hiding amongst
brushstroked darkness, besides the
thick impasto muzzle flash. A variation

in trajectory, would see me an inch into
that chrome orange and vermillion red,
brash as an evening fair in late August.

How i got here is a mystery, perhaps
projected through the air from a knife
of the regimental silver or flicked
in silent contempt from a saluting
middle finger. Not even the ellusive

mouse freely skipping across spilled
ammunition tins is aware of me, but why
should he be, I'm a dried raw umber skin
that once was a blob of gravy.

Is this perhaps another contemplation; a search for meaning amidst the vast happenstance of life exigencies? A longing for a teleological certainty, or a lament at it's lost? Those are rhetorical qs by the way - no intention to intrude.

Whatever, the meaning you intended, it was clearly meaningful to me, in my own way! And I especially like the 'brash as an evening fair in late August' line - v. good, so thank you again N-D.

[Mossdog]

Thanks Mossy, it is getting bit better already, i ignored common sense and took some ibuprofen then went for a short run ! seems to have helped! Hope your back improves soon.....you are right about the contemplation thing....also finding it hard to write at the moment but really enjoying others work, Hes tonight's haiku was gorgeous well done....

Thank Freckle. Like you, ibup. and short runs have helped considerably, and it's really on the mend, even managed a few situps again over the last couple of night.

[Harry H Howgill]

What an apt choice XRunner. I have been researching walks around Haworth as a last minute project for an over-worked friend.

How did you manage to find someone more overworked than yourself!

[Harry H Howgill]

This moving poem and your previous post Frecks would seem to suggest that you're in a particualrly comtemplative frame of mind at present - hope it's productive in a therapeutic sense.

Sorry to hear about the injury - I can empathise as I ended up with a back injury from gardening last week end - sheer the ignominy of it!!! It could have least have happened while intrepidly flying full pelt on the fells

Gardening is bloody lethal. I've had more injuries from that than I've ever had from running.

I've just started my beans and sunflowers and already they are too big to fit on top of the kitchen cupboards, but it is still too early to plant out. What is a boy to do?