Today's poet

[Hes]

'Hugging' Record in a public park!

Oh, at last
much belated,
we,
holding fast,
heart-upon-heart
embrace,
a loving
tessellation.
Connate natures,
cleaved, perhaps,
from that same star
are whole again -
proclaim
a truthful unity.

We drink deep,
never quenching,
a longed for presence.
Yet, more than words
our joint embodiment
celebrates that ending of absence.
Oblivious to stares,
carefree of petty conventions,
masks, perhaps, for the
hollow envy
or sad laments
of lovelorn passersby.
We ask for no licence,
uninhibited our kisses,
natural
jubilant greeting of
soft lips,
joyful tongues,
seek no authority -
their accord
self-evident,
eternally consummate.

Nature, well-disposed
parcelled birdsong,
a sympathetic Spring breeze,
'blue sunshine',
and a bumble bee applause -
encored.
We, 'worthy' victims no more,
have paid our dues,
suffered the stifle.
Releasing subdued Spirits,
so very, hopelessly, long Lost,
but now, yes, it's true
re-Found,
reassert to each other
Our Love.

Wow, this is wonderful Mossdog. I really like it and can relate to it very much...something that seems miraculous considering my state of being a month ago.

[Hes]

There has been some really wonderful posts over the weekend and it seems that not only spring, but love, is in the air for many fell poets! Hurray!!!

[Alf]

Andrew Marr Starts the Week with Fiona Shaw talking about her new production 'Elegy for Young Lovers' at the ENO, Simon Armitage on his new collection of poetry 'Seeing Stars' and Lord Bingham discussing the rule of law.

09:00 26/04/10

[freckle]

'Hugging' Record in a public park!

Oh, at last
much belated,
we,
holding fast,
heart-upon-heart
embrace,
a loving
tessellation.
Connate natures,
cleaved, perhaps,
from that same star
are whole again -
proclaim
a truthful unity.

We drink deep,
never quenching,
a longed for presence.
Yet, more than words
our joint embodiment
celebrates that ending of absence.
Oblivious to stares,
carefree of petty conventions,
masks, perhaps, for the
hollow envy
or sad laments
of lovelorn passersby.
We ask for no licence,
uninhibited our kisses,
natural
jubilant greeting of
soft lips,
joyful tongues,
seek no authority -
their accord
self-evident,
eternally consummate.

Nature, well-disposed
parcelled birdsong,
a sympathetic Spring breeze,
'blue sunshine',
and a bumble bee applause -
encored.
We, 'worthy' victims no more,
have paid our dues,
suffered the stifle.
Releasing subdued Spirits,
so very, hopelessly, long Lost,
but now, yes, it's true
re-Found,
reassert to each other
Our Love.

Hey I hadn't realised this was one of yours Mossy! well done! excellent stuff!

[Derby Tup]

Mild the mist upon the hill


Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.

O, I'm gone back to the days of youth,
I am a child once more,
And 'neath my father's sheltering roof
And near the old hall door

I watch this cloudy evening fall
After a day of rain;
Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall
The horizon's mountain chain.

The damp stands on the long green grass
As thick as morning's tears,
And dreamy scents of fragrance pass
That breathe of other years.

Emily Bronte

[Derby Tup]

Haworth

I'm here now where you were.
The summer grass under my palms is your hair.
Your taste is the living air.

I lie on my back. Two juggling butterflies are your smile.
The heathery breath of the moor's simply your smell.
Your name sounds on the coded voice of the bell.

I'll go nowhere you've not.
The bleached dip in a creature's bone's your throat.
That high lark, whatever it was you thought.

And this ridged stone your hand in mine,
and the curve of the turning earth your spine,
and the swooning bees besotted with flowers your tune.

I get up and walk. The dozing hillside is your dreaming head.
The cobblestones are every word you said.
The grave I knelt beside, only your bed

Carol Ann Duffy

[freckle]

Haworth

I'm here now where you were.
The summer grass under my palms is your hair.
Your taste is the living air.

I lie on my back. Two juggling butterflies are your smile.
The heathery breath of the moor's simply your smell.
Your name sounds on the coded voice of the bell.

I'll go nowhere you've not.
The bleached dip in a creature's bone's your throat.
That high lark, whatever it was you thought.

And this ridged stone your hand in mine,
and the curve of the turning earth your spine,
and the swooning bees besotted with flowers your tune.

I get up and walk. The dozing hillside is your dreaming head.
The cobblestones are every word you said.
The grave I knelt beside, only your bed

Carol Ann Duffy

Two really gorgeous choices DT but in particular this one...stunning!

[Mossdog]

Wow, this is wonderful Mossdog. I really like it and can relate to it very much...something that seems miraculous considering my state of being a month ago.

Many thanks Hes, and I'm really, really happy for you too :

[Mossdog]

My mind is turning increasingly to the Anniversary Waltz which I am looking forward to with a combination of excited anticipation and apprehension! (especially with all this talk of gradients and such like).....

Anyhow, I think I have posted this poem before but I stumbled across it again today and thought it relevant in a tangential way.....


The old dance


Legs aching pleasantly,
after eleven
1:10 miles
you come to me,
and I holding your face,
notice the boundaries of (our)
selves dissolve.


Chin resting
on the smoothest pebble,
fading embers find a home
in the hearth of us
and my mind wanders
to the start.


A bowl of fruit,
sideways glance,
words and curiosity
brought us to this end.
Swathes of pain
couldn’t keep us apart.


So tired beguiling limbs,
your very own dream catchers,
rest in this envelope
of tireless love
and sleep, darling sleep
in a well earned repose
as the magic of the old dance
reverberates in two hearts.

Totally brilliant Frecks - whose verse?

[Harry H Howgill]

Hey I hadn't realised this was one of yours Mossy! well done! excellent stuff!

I'd not twigged either, so that makes it even better.