Today's poet

[freckle]

I love this MG, makes me feel calm & focussed, thanks.

Here is an offering called The Opening of Eyes by David Whyte...

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before,
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.

It is the opening of eyes long closed
It is the vision of far-off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clean air.

It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.


David talks of the well being of our person is measured by a sense of freedom and spaciousness,

this is wonderful thank you for posting

[freckle]

Please stop your fighting
and hurling the dirt.
You obviously don't care
about the folk you hurt!

With words of anger
and your posts of hate,
All the guys on here need
is the support of a mate.

So please my friends
do offer help and support,
but please before posting
give it some thought!

NB!!

nice one :-)

always a dilemma on such threads for me to know whether to post or not, i tried to be helpful, in future i think i will just PM people much more straightforward!

MG and Stagger both know they have my support, good luck guys!

[freckle]

Morning all

Duncs lovely post reminded me of this poem

Begin
Brendan Kennelly

Begin again to the summoning birds
to the sight of light at the window,
begin to the roar of morning traffic
all along Pembroke Road.
Every beginning is a promise
born in light and dying in dark
determination and exaltation of springtime
flowering the way to work.
Begin to the pageant of queuing girls
the arrogant loneliness of swans in the canal
bridges linking the past and the future
old friends passing through with us still.
Begin to the loneliness that cannot end
since it perhaps is what makes us begin,
begin to wonder at unknown faces
at crying birds in the sudden rain
at branches stark in the willing sunlight
at seagulls foraging for bread
at couples sharing a sunny secret
alone together while making good.
Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin.

[Mountain Goatess]

Morning all

Duncs lovely post reminded me of this poem

Begin
Brendan Kennelly

Begin again to the summoning birds
to the sight of light at the window,
begin to the roar of morning traffic
all along Pembroke Road.
Every beginning is a promise
born in light and dying in dark
determination and exaltation of springtime
flowering the way to work.
Begin to the pageant of queuing girls
the arrogant loneliness of swans in the canal
bridges linking the past and the future
old friends passing through with us still.
Begin to the loneliness that cannot end
since it perhaps is what makes us begin,
begin to wonder at unknown faces
at crying birds in the sudden rain
at branches stark in the willing sunlight
at seagulls foraging for bread
at couples sharing a sunny secret
alone together while making good.
Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin.

Oh morning has broken!
(mine was at 5am by my lil princess who kept herself entertained by emptying my jewellery box and trying stuff on whilst I lay battered by her energy!)

[Mountain Goatess]

Please stop your fighting
and hurling the dirt.
You obviously don't care
about the folk you hurt!

With words of anger
and your posts of hate,
All the guys on here need
is the support of a mate.

So please my friends
do offer help and support,
but please before posting
give it some thought!

NB!!

Very good Auld thing x

[Mountain Goatess]

Morning Mist

Its rudder runs through the morning grass
In its wake, the dew a sea of tranquility;
Its early gray aura taps at window panes
As to Morse code a waking message;
It challenges the walking sun with playful scorn
Softly, all living creatures come to life;
The hues on nature’s landscape unfold
Brush-stroked by a master’s hand;
Nightlights are extinguished one-by-one
As the sun attempts to peer through the glass;
It creates hidden shadows for the nocturnal
To the meek-eyed, a bargaining plea;
Advancing, it covers the streams and the lakes
As to see its own-misted reflection;
Its content to be obscurely good
As it lofts upon the mountains;
The morning breeze blows a gentle wind as to challenge
Its soft touch dissipates the mourning mist – their differences reconciled.

Robert Sheridan

[Alf]

A few poems to catch up on here...oops Boss prowling round..best do it tonight!

[Old Whippet]

for the mistress of Whippet Towers

Patience, Hard Thing!





Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray,
But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks
Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks;
To do without, take tosses, and obey.
Rare patience roots in these, and, these away,
Nowhere. Natural heart’s ivy, Patience masks
Our ruins of wrecked past purpose. There she basks
Purple eyes and seas of liquid leaves all day.

We hear our hearts grate on themselves: it kills
To bruise them dearer. Yet the rebellious wills
Of us we do bid God bend to him even so.
And where is he who more and more distils
Delicious kindness?—He is patient. Patience fills
His crisp combs, and that comes those ways we know.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

[freckle]

Ah the old whippet makes a reappearance, tis good to have you back...and what a fine poem, i do like a bit of Hopkins...but patience? me thinks I need to meditate on such a concept and its benefits! ...nice choice tho you ol hound :-)

[freckle]

Dandelion

Resting in a necropolis of weeds
Naive hope writ in its parade of yellow
And the lion’s tooth of its leaves
Wondering if one day it will occupy
The affirmation of “flower”
Some say
an innocent vanity and conceit.

One morning you awake
To the cruellest of jokes
Pretty with tufts
Of white angelic fruit
you realise with great clarity
you contaminate and displace
Vital nutrients, from the proper buds.

Your days are numbered,
for in short, you are
a NUISANCE.

But wait, there is one thing.
You remain a fanciful game
and the children
making wishes with your parachutes
Blow you, without remorse,
Into a fractured state
To the only promise you have

A home unknown and away
From what you thought
was belonging.