Today's poet

[Mossdog]

I think Wynn will let you in MD - she said on the thread there is no limit to runners if you can get parked you'll get a run, don't quote me but I think the closing date was just for the online thing only?? Maybe PM her if you want a run, she was saying they are down on entries from previous years anyway so it's not that it's over subscribed although 6 of her Marshalls are presently stranded abroad!

Cheers Emmi and OW. That w/e has been booked for months so I hadn't anticipated being able to participate (note I didn't say compete ), but there's a very slim possibility I now might be able to wheddle my way out of the planned commitments . I'll take your advice.

[stevefoster]

Cheers Emmi and OW. That w/e has been booked for months so I hadn't anticipated being able to participate (note I didn't say compete ), but there's a very slim possibility I now might be able to wheddle my way out of the planned commitments . I'll take your advice.

Reckon you'll be fine if you pm wynn MD, she's very helpful, hope you make it

[OneOffPoet]

Hello, it's been a while in this guise.

Been scribbling again and now have ventured outside the BGR for inspiration. Not too far outside though. This is about the joy of descending from a hard earned summit in a race or hard run. That initial downhill serction is my favoiurite section in a race and my favourite races are the up-and-down real rollercoasters as described below. Hope you recognise this

Downhill

Summit crest, dramatic
Hairs on neck, like static
Arms spread, automatic
Potential, now kenetic

Plunging down, exciting
Placing feet, exacting
Braking quads, exploding
Heaving lungs, expanding

All too soon, it’s done
Hands back on thighs, again
‘Till summit crest, dramatic
And hairs on neck, like static...

[Derby Tup]

Thanks for the kind comments.



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.

What a great poem and a lovely story Zoot! Brilliant

[Derby Tup]

Hello, it's been a while in this guise.

Been scribbling again and now have ventured outside the BGR for inspiration. Not too far outside though. This is about the joy of descending from a hard earned summit in a race or hard run. That initial doewnhill serction is my favoiurite section in a race and my faveourite races and the real rollercoasters as described below. Hope you recognise this

Downhill

Summit crest, dramatic
Hairs on neck, like static
Arms spread, automatic
Potential, now kenetic

Plunging down, exciting
Placing feet, exacting
Braking quads, exploding
Heaving lungs, expanding

All too soon, it’s done
Hands back on thighs, again
‘Till summit crest, dramatic
And haris on neck, like static...

This and Stevie's PPP verse really capture the spirit of fell running. I love it when you finally get to the top of a long slog and can start running again

[Stevie]

Thanks for the kind comments.

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.

I feel a bit silly now, having missed that the poem was really about your Dad. The pointers are all there, somehow I missed them.

Anyway, still a great poem, and thanks again for plucking up courage to post it.

[freckle]

Hey frecks really glad to see you are on a roll in all sense of the term, poetic and er...well....

Ooooo you are a card! but I love ya!

[freckle]

Cheers Emmi and OW. That w/e has been booked for months so I hadn't anticipated being able to participate (note I didn't say compete ), but there's a very slim possibility I now might be able to wheddle my way out of the planned commitments . I'll take your advice.

Mossy, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaase come x

[freckle]

Hello, it's been a while in this guise.

Been scribbling again and now have ventured outside the BGR for inspiration. Not too far outside though. This is about the joy of descending from a hard earned summit in a race or hard run. That initial downhill serction is my favoiurite section in a race and my favourite races are the up-and-down real rollercoasters as described below. Hope you recognise this

Downhill

Summit crest, dramatic
Hairs on neck, like static
Arms spread, automatic
Potential, now kenetic

Plunging down, exciting
Placing feet, exacting
Braking quads, exploding
Heaving lungs, expanding

All too soon, it’s done
Hands back on thighs, again
‘Till summit crest, dramatic
And hairs on neck, like static...

Brilliant, really evocative ! i quite like descending ( some bits ) its just the uphil i am not keen on!

[freckle]

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

Missed this it is lush