Today's poet

[Mossdog]

Some interesting verse if not quite poetic!!!!!

http://www.b3ta.com/links/David_Cameron_Common_People

[Hes]

Some interesting verse if not quite poetic!!!!!

http://www.b3ta.com/links/David_Cameron_Common_People

Hmmm...good version and a real shame that my crawl round to the polling office with a migraine wasn't enough to keep him out!

By the way, thanks for the lovely comments about my recent poems Mossy, I do appreciate them a lot and it is reassuring and nice to know that someone else is experiencing the same thing. Blooming amazing but sometimes quite overwhelming isn't it?

[Hes]

Great stuff XRunner. I like this a lot.

I have just obtained an excellent biography about Charles Sorley called, most appropriately "The Ungirt Runner" by T.B.Swann (Archon books, 1965). It contains this marvellous poem:

Sorley's Weather

When outside the icy rain
Comes leaping helter-skelter,
Shall I tie my restive brain
Snugly under shelter?

Shall I make a gentle song
Here in my firelit study,
When outside the winds blow strong
And the lanes are muddy?

With old wine and drowsy meats
Am I to fill my belly?
Shall I glutton here with Keats?
Shall I drink with Shelley?

Tobacco's pleasant, firelight's good:
Poetry makes both better.
Clay is wet and so is mud,
Winter rains are wetter.

Yet rest there, Shelley, on the sill,
For though the winds come frorley
I'm away to the rain-blown hill
And the ghost of Sorley.

by Robert Graves

[Hes]

Progress

And once again the depths of my life rush onward,
as if they were moving in wider channels now.
Things are becoming more close to me
and all images more thoroughly looked upon.
I feel more comfortable with that which is nameless,:
With my senses, as with birds, I reach up
into the windy heavens out of the oak,
and in those pools broken off from the day,
my feeling, as if standing on fishes, descends.

Rainer Maria Rilke

[Hes]

Waiting

amidst scattered scores
a flute lies on a chair
still warm from Satie
whilst the ink dries slowly
on an ochre print
of a shadowy pair
small scraps of poetry
written by two hands
nestle amongst the sheets
and the silence grows louder
as the mango's blush deepens
and I await his return

[freckle]

Some interesting verse if not quite poetic!!!!!

http://www.b3ta.com/links/David_Cameron_Common_People

This was both funny and depressing........................sigh............ .thanks for posting!

[freckle]

Waiting

amidst scattered scores
a flute lies on a chair
still warm from Satie
whilst the ink dries slowly
on an ochre print
of a shadowy pair
small scraps of poetry
written by two hands
nestle amongst the sheets
and the silence grows louder
as the mango's blush deepens
and I await his return

Oooooooo be still my beating heart................lovely stuff!


ps i adore the rilke poem too

[freckle]

I know its first thing in the morning but I have had been up with the little un who has terrible ear ache so this lovely verse appealed to me.....have a great day everyone...

To Say Before Going to Sleep

I would like to sing someone to sleep,
have someone to sit by and be with.
I would like to cradle you and softly sing,
be your companion while you sleep or wake.
I would like to be the only person
in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.
And would like to listen to you
and outside to the world and to the woods.

The clocks are striking, calling to each other,
and one can see right to the edge of time.
Outside the house a strange man is afoot
and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep.
Beyond that there is silence.

My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;
and they hold you gently, letting you go
when something in the dark begins to move.

Rainer Maria Rilke

[Mossdog]

Waiting

amidst scattered scores
a flute lies on a chair
still warm from Satie
whilst the ink dries slowly
on an ochre print
of a shadowy pair
small scraps of poetry
written by two hands
nestle amongst the sheets
and the silence grows louder
as the mango's blush deepens
and I await his return

Sometime, inspiration seems to arrive with such zest, in those wee hours - another very beautiful poem Hes, thanks.

[Mossdog]

i can't quite grasp


there's this thing with time - you see
i can't quite grasp
too much has gone by
yet
somehow
it's still like before, to me,
like those blue-sunshine days
nearly two decades past
before the time of deportation

we've moved on -
but we haven't
somehow
we haven't
i think of you, like then,
golden, fresh, 'free',
on the brink of womanhood
and hope stirs,
but then,
it just-will-not-surge

and i take time to question

you, we've, changed
fixed in our aspic lives
part consumed - by time
a divergence of commitments
and yet, this thing,
still gnaws me
i can't quite grasp

it slips my hold
a plunging, gouging
emptiness
that's sorrow, maybe,
and the sheer, sheer
relentlessness
impotent to do otherwise
but accept
yet it will not,
refuses,
to be reconciled
maybe time will tell

And of our time - finite
'the time of our lives'
look to who we give that gift
it's precious moments
wealthy years
and more
what greater measure can there be
that absolute present
unquestionably
that authentic nature
of our love
of that which we value
reveals to me
sadly
a churning dissonance
some questions

but reason remonstrates
"A glass half-empty..."
they say
"move on"
"best foot forward"
"tomorrow's another day"
- f**k their platitudes
I want yesterday,
all those wasted, exiled years
I want all of you.