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Thread: Today's poet

  1. #8071
    Master
    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Posts
    6,158

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by freckle View Post
    Aw...lovely Herakles, very well put!...so come on fess up everyone WHO exactly is going? so far I have the following:

    HHH
    Hes
    OW
    Herakles
    N Dubya
    Mountain Goatess
    ? Merrylegs
    ? Mossy
    ? Alf

    I make that 9 pints of snecklifter so far, I'll not be able to stand up straight at this rate...oh yeah, I won't anyway will I? on account of that geet macca mountain I have to hobble up!!!!
    I am doing the TWA so if I get timed out at Newlands Hause I might be one of the first back otherwise one of the last

  2. #8072
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Location
    Tringshire
    Posts
    312

    Re: Today's poet

    I have had a bash at a 3 Peaks poem. Personally I feel bound and gagged by rhyme and metre, but it does have an effect. I thought this one needed to rhyme.

    Three lonely Peaks to call us north
    To Yorkshire and its Dales.
    Hardy runners all come forth
    With banter and tall tales.

    Of too-fast starts and blowing up
    On Inglebugger's length.
    Now all talk must be followed up
    With action and with strength.

    Pen-y-Ghent the first tall hill
    Will spread the eager pack.
    A running climb goes on until
    The summit - then turn back.

    Across the rolling countryside
    We go, to Ribblehead.
    Below the arches, match their stride,
    Now watered and well fed.

    The second peak is Whernside's top
    It's Yorkshire's highest place.
    Push for the top it's steep, don't stop,
    A key point in the race.

    Here you can cramp up as the climb
    Sorts out the men from boys.
    The men will push on, waste no time.
    The boys Whernside destroys.

    The third and final lofty peak
    Is Ingleborough hill.
    Legs are tired and growing weak,
    The runners test their will.

    To scale the mighty summit and
    Achieve three Yorkshire peaks.
    Of Pen-y-Ghent and Whernside and
    Of Ingleborough bleak.

    The finish line is still a way -
    Beyond the Sulber Nick.
    Five miles to run, to our dismay,
    We better get there quick.

    Three peaks of stubborn Yorkshire pride!
    Three hammer blows to drive!
    The hills afford no place to hide -
    For honour now we strive!

    Stevie

  3. #8073
    Master
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    Location
    Bethlem
    Posts
    1,478

    Re: Today's poet

    5Hr 30 Mins.

    My time for the Anni is slow,
    But Al F he says no,
    He thinks i'll be faster ,
    This young running master,
    And i said i'm twice your size you know.

    By Herakles.

  4. #8074
    Master
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Location
    Down south now
    Posts
    2,742

    Re: Today's poet

    Here is a poem for Stef F:

    There's a Long, Long Trail A-Winding

    Nights are growing very lonely,
    Days are very long;
    I'm a-growing weary only
    List'ning for your song.
    Old remembrances are thronging
    Thro' my memory.
    Till it seems the world is full of dreams
    Just to call you back to me.

    There's a long, long trail a-winding
    Into the land of my dreams,
    Where the nightingales are singing
    And a white moon beams:
    There's a long, long night of waiting
    Until my dreams all come true;
    Till the day when I'll be going down
    That long, long trail with you.

    All night long I hear you calling,
    Calling sweet and low;
    Seem to hear your footsteps falling,
    Ev'ry where I go.
    Tho' the road between us stretches
    Many a weary mile.
    I forget that you're not with me yet,
    When I think I see you smile.


    by Stoddard King

  5. #8075
    Master
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Location
    Kendal
    Posts
    3,261

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Herakles View Post
    5Hr 30 Mins.

    My time for the Anni is slow,
    But Al F he says no,
    He thinks i'll be faster ,
    This young running master,
    And i said i'm twice your size you know.

    By Herakles.
    I'm sure you'll do it faster than that ok. Half of it is downhill don't you know! And everyone will be walking some of the up hill bits. I know I will.
    Last edited by Harry H Howgill; 21-04-2010 at 08:35 PM.

  6. #8076
    Master
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Location
    Kendal
    Posts
    3,261

    Re: Today's poet

    That is fabulous Stevie. I think all the better for rhyming too as it keeps a good pace and makes it enjoyable to read.

    I can relate to that very well. Too fast a start then I was one of the Whernside boys that got found out.

    One of the best fell running poems we have had.

    Quote Originally Posted by Stevie View Post
    I have had a bash at a 3 Peaks poem. Personally I feel bound and gagged by rhyme and metre, but it does have an effect. I thought this one needed to rhyme.

    Three lonely Peaks to call us north
    To Yorkshire and its Dales.
    Hardy runners all come forth
    With banter and tall tales.

    Of too-fast starts and blowing up
    On Inglebugger's length.
    Now all talk must be followed up
    With action and with strength.

    Pen-y-Ghent the first tall hill
    Will spread the eager pack.
    A running climb goes on until
    The summit - then turn back.

    Across the rolling countryside
    We go, to Ribblehead.
    Below the arches, match their stride,
    Now watered and well fed.

    The second peak is Whernside's top
    It's Yorkshire's highest place.
    Push for the top it's steep, don't stop,
    A key point in the race.

    Here you can cramp up as the climb
    Sorts out the men from boys.
    The men will push on, waste no time.
    The boys Whernside destroys.

    The third and final lofty peak
    Is Ingleborough hill.
    Legs are tired and growing weak,
    The runners test their will.

    To scale the mighty summit and
    Achieve three Yorkshire peaks.
    Of Pen-y-Ghent and Whernside and
    Of Ingleborough bleak.

    The finish line is still a way -
    Beyond the Sulber Nick.
    Five miles to run, to our dismay,
    We better get there quick.

    Three peaks of stubborn Yorkshire pride!
    Three hammer blows to drive!
    The hills afford no place to hide -
    For honour now we strive!

    Stevie

  7. #8077
    Master
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Location
    Kendal
    Posts
    3,261

    Re: Today's poet

    That is really interesting Tooshy.

    Ian Hislop was on BBC4 last night talking about poetry, and he said that the purpose of poetry was to take something specific or personal and make it universal. I think you succeeded there.

    Quote Originally Posted by Tooshy View Post
    It’s that time of year again
    My brother said she’s drunk is your mum
    Then I knew your ghost had taken the train
    To Ravenglass from Eskdale

    Thirteen years to the night
    - How can it be possible -
    After the hospital call that taught me
    Life unravels as fast as travels the tide

    On the Mite sands where you swam
    Before your war arrived

    Thirty-three years after I’d watched
    You strain like Sisyphus with a pipe
    At a stranger’s car tide-bound
    In the shifting sands of the Mite

    And afterwards we took the train
    From Ravenglass to Eskdale

    Forty years on from the night
    The hospital called you to a new son
    With roses from the garage for mum
    But I became your world

    Away from the shore that moves
    With the tides of the Esk and the Mite

    It was April seventeen and I thought
    In the breeze I felt the ghost
    Of your hand encompassing both mine
    Like it did that distant afternoon

    We sat happy on the line
    To Ravenglass from Eskdale

  8. #8078

    Re: Today's poet

    Thanks for the kind comments.

    Quote Originally Posted by Stevie View Post
    This is very moving Tooshy, after reading it a few times the sense of time passing and family history really comes through. Some things in life are constants (the Mite and the Esk and the railway), and others change, but although you become more distant in time from events in the past there are some key moments there to hang on to. The things that stay with you may not be the things you expect to stay with you - the red roses, the car on the sand. But one thing that always stays with you and is the memory of your Mum, obviously very intense. The train ride with and without your Mum is a good way of getting the feeling across. Thanks for posting this.
    It's actually about my dad Stevie - he bought the roses for my mum when I was born (nearly) forty years ago. He was born and grew up in ravenglass and took me there and on the railway when I was seven.

    But I wrote that because something quite unusual just happened.

    I was in Eskdale last weekend with some friends, and because of a bad foot on Saturday, had to entertain myself while they went walking.

    So I took the little train from Boot and from it spied the cottage on the Mite estuary where he grew up. I wandered round Ravenglass, got misty-eyed, had a couple of pints and that was that.

    Until last night, when I spoke to my mum and I realised with a jolt that for the first time in thirteen years I'd missed the anniversary of my dad's death.

    But with a second jolt I realised I hadn't really. April 17 was Saturday.

  9. #8079

    Re: Today's poet

    oh er ... that's torn it!

    ah well, anonymity's overrated ...

  10. #8080

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Tooshy View Post
    It’s that time of year again
    My brother said she’s drunk is your mum
    Then I knew your ghost had taken the train
    To Ravenglass from Eskdale

    Thirteen years to the night
    - How can it be possible -
    After the hospital call that taught me
    Life unravels as fast as travels the tide

    On the Mite sands where you swam
    Before your war arrived

    Thirty-three years after I’d watched
    You strain like Sisyphus with a pipe
    At a stranger’s car tide-bound
    In the shifting sands of the Mite

    And afterwards we took the train
    From Ravenglass to Eskdale

    Forty years on from the night
    The hospital called you to a new son
    With roses from the garage for mum
    But I became your world

    Away from the shore that moves
    With the tides of the Esk and the Mite

    It was April seventeen and I thought
    In the breeze I felt the ghost
    Of your hand encompassing both mine
    Like it did that distant afternoon

    We sat happy on the line
    To Ravenglass from Eskdale
    Just catching up and what do I find?...this beautiful little gem.....lovely work Tooshy, very moving, especially when you give us the context...wow!

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