Today's poet

[Mossdog]

Love is:

The indescribable
Knowledge
that is totally
Unconditional

To put it in words I'm
Incapable
to capture the feeling is
Impossible

It is a thing that I
Treasure
hold in my soul and
Nurture

Now that I've found it I
Cherish
And know that it's mine
Forever

Go for it Stef and what a delight to read your lines.

[Mossdog]

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

Oh yes DT. That is stunning - thanks. Great find.

[Mossdog]

er mine

You are a star. What lovely, lovely lines. I hope you don't mind, I'm going to copy that to a very special friend, although I may have some explaining to do when I credit it to 'Freckle'

[freckle]

You are a star. What lovely, lovely lines. I hope you don't mind, I'm going to copy that to a very special friend, although I may have some explaining to do when I credit it to 'Freckle'

I don't mind at all I am glad you like it Mossy, I regard that as a major compliment

[Mossdog]

He knew it was yours all along

And although I'm clearly soft in the head, I'm damned if I'm going to start writing doggie poems

I love doggie poems, me...

The Dogs

Benjamin Peck Keith (1856-1927)


If men in this world were as honest and true:
As the dogs--That they claim have no souls to save,
There would be little use for a church, or a pew,
There would be little talk of the Christian or Jew,
And all would be saved, instead of a few;
If men, like the dogs, were as honest and true,
If men, like the dogs, were as noble and brave.

When a dog wags his tail, it is only one way,
But men wag their tongues to lie and to pray,
And work both these schemes on the very same day:
And then have the wonderful face to say,
That Heaven is only for such as they.

[freckle]

You do realise that the massively huge preponderence of love poems in this here thread, whilst being I'm sure brilliantly excellent for those FPSer's who are 'all loved up', do leave the rest of us saddos falling miserably and forlornly into a bottomless abyss of despair and self pity..........

Ah well...i can't have this thread excluding people on the basis of misery... I mean we wouldn't do it to Plath would we?

So here we are Stolly, a bit of Bukowski.....

Voila.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCrn1...eature=related

actually that was one of his more chirpy ones I feel....

[freckle]

Alone with everyone

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.



Charles Bukowski


well it is a monday!

[Nathaniel Lee]

Calypso's Curse.

Do i have the courage of my convictions,
Can i lose myself in your eyes,
Calypso's curse could bring me to my end,
World upside down,
I have waited for so long,
Will i have the strength to see this through.

By Herakles.

[freckle]

Calypso's Curse.

Do i have the courage of my convictions,
Can i lose myself in your eyes,
Calypso's curse could bring me to my end,
World upside down,
I have waited for so long,
Will i have the strength to see this through.

By Herakles.

Mmmmm calypso was a greek mythology type person was she not?
you could have a whole book on this particular story

[Stef F]

You do realise that the massively huge preponderence of love poems in this here thread, whilst being I'm sure brilliantly excellent for those FPSer's who are 'all loved up', do leave the rest of us saddos falling miserably and forlornly into a bottomless abyss of despair and self pity..........

Oh dear....I can do miserable stuff too it that helps?

Broken is the heart that
is trapped under the crush
of the foot that suddenly
and heavily treads in a hush

Bruised is the soul that once
was lifted from the pit
only to be released without warning
to fall back down it

Noisy is the mind that
searches desperately for
reason or cause
only to raise the pain a little bit more

Cruel is the hand that
deals the blow
for no one alive deserves this
torture I know

Now can I go back to the lovie dovie stuff please?

Or maybe the doggie rhymes would be better?

Stolly had a little dog, it's coat was triple coloured
and everywhere that Stolly went, this little feller follered!
It followed him to the pools one day, where Stolly liked to dip
It made the bathers splash and spray to see poor Harry drip!
So Stolly sat him on the bank where patiently he waited
Why does the dog love Stolly so? the bathers contemplated
Well Stolly feeds the dog you see so here is love explained
Just serve it up fresh every day, and love will be retained

Apologies to Sarah Hale for butchering her work!