Today's poet

[Alf]

August's Confusion.

Dear grey August
Why so dull
Have you lost your way
Take your mind back to memories
Of many a sun filled day

Dear grey August
Full of cloud
How come you're filled with storm
Take us back to the good old you
When blue skies were full of warm.

By Me! x

Well done MG, I share those thoughts, though it wasn't too bad today just a pity I was in work.

This reminds me of a hawk I was watching at the weekend but it wasn't the least interested in me

Hawk Roosting

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.

Ted Hughes

[freckle]

August's Confusion.

Dear grey August
Why so dull
Have you lost your way
Take your mind back to memories
Of many a sun filled day

Dear grey August
Full of cloud
How come you're filled with storm
Take us back to the good old you
When blue skies were full of warm.

By Me! x

How wonderful! good to see you back on the thread MG and with some original work :-) x

[freckle]

Well done MG, I share those thoughts, though it wasn't too bad today just a pity I was in work.

This reminds me of a hawk I was watching at the weekend but it wasn't the least interested in me

Hawk Roosting

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.

The convenience of the high trees!
The air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth's face upward for my inspection.

My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly -
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads -

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.

Ted Hughes

I love the darkness of this Alf, very reminiscent of the Crow stuff he did....what is the connection with birds and death for ted hughes i wonder?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEUolGiGPgU

[freckle]

Some more statistics on 15 August 2010Fell Poets Society has 9,221 posts: started 18 Oct 2009; 301 days old, has 30 posts per day

Todays Training has 9,336 posts : started 2 Jan 2007, 1,321 days old, hs 7 posts per day

Fell Ponies has 9,214 posts: started 4 Oct 2007; 1,046 days old, has 9 posts per day

Quiet Round Here has 26,814 posts: started 3 Jan 2007;1,320 days old, has 20 posts per day

interesting reading X runner! i wonder if we shall make 10, 000 and if so if I could obtain some kind of honourary retirement package?

[freckle]

from The Rag Rug
by Ted Hughes

Somebody had made one. You admired it.
So you began to make your rag rug.
You needed to do it. Played on by lightnings
You needed an earth. Maybe. Or needed
To pull something out of yourself-
Some tapeworm of the psyche. I was simply
Happy to watch your scissors being fearless
...
Whenever you worked at your carpet I felt happy.
Then I could read Conrad's novels to you.
I could cradle your freed mind in my voice,
Chapter by chapter, sentence by sentence,
Word by word: "Heart of Darkness,"
...
I dreamed of our house
Before we ever found it. A great snake
Lifted its head from a well in the middle of the house
Exactly where the well is, beneath its slab,
In the middle of the house.
A golden serpent, thick as a child's body,
Eased from the opened well. And poured out
Through the back door, a length that seemed unending-
...

[Harry H Howgill]

interesting reading X runner! i wonder if we shall make 10, 000 and if so if I could obtain some kind of honourary retirement package?

Sorry my dear, you are a life member. There is no escaping now. :-)

[freckle]

Sorry my dear, you are a life member. There is no escaping now. :-)

) aw thanx harry !

[Alf]

from The Rag Rug
by Ted Hughes

Somebody had made one. You admired it.
So you began to make your rag rug.
You needed to do it. Played on by lightnings
You needed an earth. Maybe. Or needed
To pull something out of yourself-
Some tapeworm of the psyche. I was simply
Happy to watch your scissors being fearless
...
Whenever you worked at your carpet I felt happy.
Then I could read Conrad's novels to you.
I could cradle your freed mind in my voice,
Chapter by chapter, sentence by sentence,
Word by word: "Heart of Darkness,"
...
I dreamed of our house
Before we ever found it. A great snake
Lifted its head from a well in the middle of the house
Exactly where the well is, beneath its slab,
In the middle of the house.
A golden serpent, thick as a child's body,
Eased from the opened well. And poured out
Through the back door, a length that seemed unending-
...

Good choice freckle and probably not too difficult to guess Sylvia Plath is making the rug

interesting reading X runner! i wonder if we shall make 10, 000 and if so if I could obtain some kind of honourary retirement package?

I am not an Eagles fan but this came to mind "you can check out anytime you like but you can never leave"

[Derby Tup]

I am not an Eagles fan but this came to mind "you can check out anytime you like but you can never leave"

Once a fell poet, always a fell poet

[Stolly]

Some more statistics on 15 August 2010Fell Poets Society has 9,221 posts: started 18 Oct 2009; 301 days old, has 30 posts per day

Todays Training has 9,336 posts : started 2 Jan 2007, 1,321 days old, hs 7 posts per day

Fell Ponies has 9,214 posts: started 4 Oct 2007; 1,046 days old, has 9 posts per day

Quiet Round Here has 26,814 posts: started 3 Jan 2007;1,320 days old, has 20 posts per day

The statistician spends his days,
In figuring out the many ways,
In which a standard error can,
Enclose by bars the average man.
And having thus imprisoned him,
Perhaps at some researcher's whim,
Can with the same chicanery,
Enlarge the bars and set him free.
Or better yet, within the sample,
Locate some points with girth so ample,
That if by "choice" they were discarded,
Man and hypothesis are safeguarded.

random poem nicked off the internet