Today's poet

[Alf]

I loved that "Long time a child", it made me shift perspectives in terms of my asssumptions about other 'grown ups' and the way we can all view the world, lovely, thanks Alf.

So here is a poem my daughter Ana, age 7, wrote yesterday & delivered to my wife & I, somewhat earlier on a Sunday morning than we would have prefered!

In the Winter

In the winter I hear the screaming of the children
I hear the snow creaking
I hear rustling of the trees
I smell the turkey
I hear the music playing
I hear the laughing of parents
I smell the flowers
I hear the birds tweeting...

I checked out the "screaming of the children" bit & she said they were playing snowballs, ah the innocence!

She is a very talented young lady Duncs I loved the "snow creaking"

[Alf]

The Sunlight on the Garden

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

Louis Macneice

There is something familar about this poem freckle as though I have read it recently myself ?
Is it about ageing or loss of freedom ? More food for thought

[Mossdog]

The Sunlight on the Garden

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

Louis Macneice

Hey Freckle, that's lovely - thanks

[freckle]

I loved that "Long time a child", it made me shift perspectives in terms of my asssumptions about other 'grown ups' and the way we can all view the world, lovely, thanks Alf.

So here is a poem my daughter Ana, age 7, wrote yesterday & delivered to my wife & I, somewhat earlier on a Sunday morning than we would have prefered!

In the Winter

In the winter I hear the screaming of the children
I hear the snow creaking
I hear rustling of the trees
I smell the turkey
I hear the music playing
I hear the laughing of parents
I smell the flowers
I hear the birds tweeting...

I checked out the "screaming of the children" bit & she said they were playing snowballs, ah the innocence!

I really like this it has an enigmatic, innocent and simplistic quality which works well! well done to your daughter! :-)

[Alf]

BEATTIE IS THREE

At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.

Adrian Mitchell

[stevefoster]

Job loss, jobless, depression,
Jobs you don't like, but pay the bills,
And finally, a job you want, happens.

A crap year, hopefully, behind me, onwards and upwards.
Persevere and may you all achieve your dreams and aspirations

[freckle]

Job loss, jobless, depression,
Jobs you don't like, but pay the bills,
And finally, a job you want, happens.

A crap year, hopefully, behind me, onwards and upwards.
Persevere and may you all achieve your dreams and aspirations

Perserverance in these difficult times is a value worth holding onto .....pleased that yours paid off (and hoping mine does too) :-) x

[freckle]

BEATTIE IS THREE

At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.

Adrian Mitchell

this is so beautiful and moving, it brought a tear to my eye.............................thank you

[freckle]

another one from macneice...i like the way he plays with the notion of time as it relates to the self, here i think he is observing how in a moment we can be transported back to different more innocent times..........?

Soap Suds

This brand of soap has the same smell as once in the big
House he visited when he was eight: the walls of the bathroom open
To reveal a lawn where a great yellow ball rolls back through a hoop
To rest at the head of a mallet held in the hands of a child.

And these were the joys of that house: a tower with a telescope;
Two great faded globes, one of the earth, one of the stars;
A stuffed black dog in the hall; a walled garden with bees;
A rabbit warren; a rockery; a vine under glass; the sea.

To which he has now returned. The day of course is fine
And a grown-up voice cries Play! The mallet slowly swings,
Then crack, a great gong booms from the dog-dark hall and the ball
Skims forward through the hoop and then through the next and then

Through hoops where no hoops were and each dissolves in turn
And the grass has grown head-high and an angry voice cries Play!
But the ball is lost and the mallet slipped long since from the hands
Under the running tap that are not the hands of a child.

Louis Macneice

[stevefoster]

Perserverance in these difficult times is a value worth holding onto .....pleased that yours paid off (and hoping mine does too) :-) x

I hope so to marra ;-)