Today's poet

[Mossdog]

I like the new signature freckle

Sandpiper fledglings
attempt tentative first steps
by bubbling Wharfe

Hey I like that DT. I'm encountering lots of red grouse chicks on the top too, already for the Glorious Twelfth no doubt

[Alf]

Hey I like that DT. I'm encountering lots of red grouse chicks on the top too, already for the Glorious Twelfth no doubt

Yes Mossy I totally agree

"What is it but deliberate massacre when tens of thousands of tame, hand-reared creatures are every year literally driven into the jaws of death and mown down in a peculiarly brutal manner? A perfect roar of guns fills the air; louder tap and yell the beaters, while above the din can be heard the heart-rending cries of wounded hares and rabbits, some of which can be seen dragging themselves away, with legs broken, or turning round and round in their agony before they die! And the birds! They are on every side, some rising, some dropping; some lying dead, but the great majority fluttering on the ground wounded; some with both wings broken and a leg; others merely winged, running to hide; others mortally wounded, gasping out their last breath amidst the hellish uproar which surrounds them. And this is called 'sport!'"
-- Florence Dixie

[Alf]

One for mums and daughters everywhere


Mother and Daughter

She will not have it that my day wanes low,
Poor of the fire its drooping sun denies,
That on my brow the thin lines write good-byes
Which soon may be read plain for all to know,
Telling that I have done with youth's brave show;
Alas! and done with youth in heart and eyes,
With wonder and with far expectancies,
Save but to say 'I knew such long ago.'

She will not have it. Loverlike to me,
She with her happy gaze finds all that's best,
She sees this fair and that unfretted still,
And her own sunshine over all the rest:
So she half keeps me as she'd have me be,
And I forget to age, through her sweet will.

Augusta Webster

[Harry H Howgill]

I love John Clare and that is one of my favourites. Thanks for posting. I've got a book of his you can borrow some time.

In wonder if this one was for Mary Joyce?


I Hid My Love

I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light;
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where'er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love goodbye.

I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee's song
She lay there all the summer long.

I hid my love in field and town
Till e'en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o'er,
The fly's bass turned to lion's roar;
And even the silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.

John Clare

[freckle]

One for mums and daughters everywhere


Mother and Daughter

She will not have it that my day wanes low,
Poor of the fire its drooping sun denies,
That on my brow the thin lines write good-byes
Which soon may be read plain for all to know,
Telling that I have done with youth's brave show;
Alas! and done with youth in heart and eyes,
With wonder and with far expectancies,
Save but to say 'I knew such long ago.'

She will not have it. Loverlike to me,
She with her happy gaze finds all that's best,
She sees this fair and that unfretted still,
And her own sunshine over all the rest:
So she half keeps me as she'd have me be,
And I forget to age, through her sweet will.

Augusta Webster

How beautiful and moving....thank you

Harry glad you liked the Clare, I found his story interesting...finished watcging il postino tonight, :-( is all I shall say!

[Alf]

In wonder if this one was for Mary Joyce?


I Hid My Love

I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light;
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where'er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love goodbye.

I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee's song
She lay there all the summer long.

I hid my love in field and town
Till e'en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o'er,
The fly's bass turned to lion's roar;
And even the silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.

John Clare

I think you are right about John Clare and Mary Joyce freckle. Just been reading about him (in my lunchbreak of course ) It also seems sad the publishers of the day made him change some of his language to match the "accepted poetry" of the day

[Nathaniel Lee]

The Eve Of Battle.

I open my eyes and feel the sun upon my skin,
The radiant light pierces the room,
A hint of rosemary drifts in,
I am ready and never been more so.

My wife wakes she smiles and knows what i must do,
It does not need to be said,
She helps me into my armour and passes me my shield,
Today is a good day to die.

We stand in the pass my brethren and i,
Powerful , inpenetrable and proud,
It begins the attack by the so called immortals,
For the Gods, for citizenship, For Sparta.

By Leonidas.

[freckle]

The Eve Of Battle.

I open my eyes and feel the sun upon my skin,
The radiant light pierces the room,
A hint of rosemary drifts in,
I am ready and never been more so.

My wife wakes she smiles and knows what i must do,
It does not need to be said,
She helps me into my armour and passes me my shield,
Today is a good day to die.

We stand in the pass my brethren and i,
Powerful , inpenetrable and proud,
It begins the attack by the so called immortals,
For the Gods, for citizenship, For Sparta.

By Leonidas.

Good to see you back Leonidas!

[freckle]

Morning all !

A Fairy Song


Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire!
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours;
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

William Shakespeare

[Hes]

I've loved DT's latest haiku. So good to see you on form Mr. Tup.

roadside scurrying
a spiny ball on tiptoes
the hedgehog crosses