Today's poet

[Hanneke]

The mindfulness of being
out on my bike
early morning
a chill in the air
cools my skin
the sun
low in the sky
my eyes squint
my legs turn the pedals
cadence low
power high
my breath calm
my heart light

A perfect state of being
a smell of spring
wild daffodils
in the fields
anemones
in the hedgerows
primroses
colour the verges pale yellow
my legs turn the pedals
cadence low
power high
my breath calm
my heart light

The lightness of being
my hands are cold
from the breeze
the speed
lambs
in the fields
red kite
soaring high
my legs turn the pedals
cadence low
power high
my breath calm
my heart light

[Wheeze]

There's a well known poetic challenge
to find something that rhymes with orange.

Well, now that challenge is over
It's a bl**dy great lump called The Blorenge.








and I hate it!

[Hanneke]

There's a well known poetic challenge
to find something that rhymes with orange.

Well, now that challenge is over
It's a bl**dy great lump called The Blorenge.








and I hate it!

LOL Wheeze

Want to go for a nice bikeride some day soon?

[Stevie]

There's a well known poetic challenge
to find something that rhymes with orange.

Well, now that challenge is over
It's a bl**dy great lump called The Blorenge.

and I hate it!

Oh, has the Llanbedr to Blaenavon race just taken place by any chance?

Ran last year and didn't mind the Blorenge, maybe I just wasn't trying hard enough earlier on...

[Stevie]

The mindfulness of being
out on my bike
....

Nice Hanneke. I can just picture the high Black Mountains ridges in pale morning sunlight, and all the things you mention.

[freckle]

The mindfulness of being
out on my bike
early morning
a chill in the air
cools my skin
the sun
low in the sky
my eyes squint
my legs turn the pedals
cadence low
power high
my breath calm
my heart light

A perfect state of being
a smell of spring
wild daffodils
in the fields
anemones
in the hedgerows
primroses
colour the verges pale yellow
my legs turn the pedals
cadence low
power high
my breath calm
my heart light

The lightness of being
my hands are cold
from the breeze
the speed
lambs
in the fields
red kite
soaring high
my legs turn the pedals
cadence low
power high
my breath calm
my heart light

This is really beautiful Hanneke, it was so nice to read it whilst sitting having lunch in my office, you convey a real sense of weightlessness with the poem which is very evocative and transported me elsewhere! thanks for posting

[Stevie]

Just catching up with the thread, some good poems both home-made and ready-made.

Interesting about the Simon Armitage walk and gigs. Well done to the folks arranging Dufton! Shame I can't be there but I will try and get to Hebden Bridge on the 23rd, will be on my way to the Lakes for a weeks holiday.

Fantastic to see poetry from the thread published in the fellrunner. HHH (was it?) had a tough editing task. I consider myself honoured to have got something in.

I see there has been some re-branding going on! What I thought were new names were actually old ones with new brand. Hmmm, what should I choose for myself, even if I could work out how to do it...

[Hanneke]

Thanks guys... Not been on here for a bit, stresses of life were taking over, not enough quiet to write and read poetry. I hope I am back now

[Stevie]

There's a well known poetic challenge
to find something that rhymes with orange.

Well, now that challenge is over
It's a bl**dy great lump called The Blorenge.

and I hate it!

Wheeze you seem to have inspired me to attempt a Blorenge poem:

Facing the Sugar Loaf, backing the Coity,
The grand and magnificent, not to say moighty,
Blorenge hill with its steepening face,
Defies all-comers in the fell running race.

They've already scaled the pretty Crug Mawr,
and dropped to the river and climbed some more,
Over the Sugar Loaf down to the Usk,
Through Abergavenny and its urban musk.

Climbing up under the Brecon canal,
Easy going in the Blorenge locale!
But the higher they go the steeper it tilts,
Til quads are burning and spirit wilts.

Over the top they can barely run,
Though supporters cheer and the race is near done.
Their oxygen low and lactic high,
The runners curse Blorenge and want to die.

Some tricky rhymes in this short little verse,
But then you know it could be worse,
When late at night and after some wine,
Avoid putting orange at the end of the line!

Stevie

[Hanneke]

Wheeze you seem to have inspired me to attempt a Blorenge poem:

Facing the Sugar Loaf, backing the Coity,
The grand and magnificent, not to say moighty,
Blorenge hill with its steepening face,
Defies all-comers in the fell running race.

They've already scaled the pretty Crug Mawr,
and dropped to the river and climbed some more,
Over the Sugar Loaf down to the Usk,
Through Abergavenny and its urban musk.

Climbing up under the Brecon canal,
Easy going in the Blorenge locale!
But the higher they go the steeper it tilts,
Til quads are burning and spirit wilts.

Over the top they can barely run,
Though supporters cheer and the race is near done.
Their oxygen low and lactic high,
The runners curse Blorenge and want to die.

Some tricky rhymes in this short little verse,
But then you know it could be worse,
When late at night and after some wine,
Avoid putting orange at the end of the line!

Stevie

LOL, that's cool Stevie