Today's poet

[Stef F]

Well it is a fell poet's birthday tomorrow, non other than our lovely Harry Howgill...and so it is quite fitting that I post a poem about friendship, in this case a one by Robbie Burns about a very long friendship...I like it's subtletly and gentleness...

In the scheme of things I suppose I haven't known you that long Mr Howgill but in a short space of time I'd like to think you have become a good friend and I certainly hope that you will continue to take me by the hand and haul me up a mountain or two in the years to come! (the phrase "Gummers How" comes to mind!!!!)

so this one is for you....have a good one! (hope the kids help you blow out all those candles! )


JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO



by: Robert Burns (1759-1796)

• OHN ANDERSON my jo,
  John, When we were first acquent,
  Your locks were like the raven,
  Your bonie brow was brent;
  But now your brow is beld, John,
  Your locks are like the snaw,
  but blessings on your frosty pow,
  John Anderson, my jo!
  
  John Anderson my jo, John,
  We clamb the hill thegither,
  And mony a canty day, John,
  We've had wi' ane anither;
  Now we maun totter down, John,
  But hand in hand we'll go,
  And sleep thegither at the foot,
• John Anderson, my jo!

So much said in so few words, what a gem of a poem. Clearly I haven't given Burns enough attention!

[Hes]

Thanks for this Mossy. I was in quite a sombre mood when I wrote it. Can't believe you've been running in snow already.

Fantastic Hes, and you've really caught the somber spirit of the moment. Ran up Cairn Gorm last Sunday and it was 'full-on/ no holds barred' winter, snow, severely below zero wind chill, dense cloud and gloves icing up!!! No single vestige of summer there anymore!

[Hes]

Oh my goodness! HHH's birthday! Thanks for posting this and reminding me Freckle. I've been wrapped up in stuff at home/work the last week and have lost track of what day it is let alone date. I'm really glad that I called in here tonight. I can only echo your sentiments and say not only

Happy Birthday HHH

but that I, too, hope that we'll have many more races/fell poets meets and chats over cuppas over the years to come.XX

Well it is a fell poet's birthday tomorrow, non other than our lovely Harry Howgill...and so it is quite fitting that I post a poem about friendship, in this case a one by Robbie Burns about a very long friendship...I like it's subtletly and gentleness...

In the scheme of things I suppose I haven't known you that long Mr Howgill but in a short space of time I'd like to think you have become a good friend and I certainly hope that you will continue to take me by the hand and haul me up a mountain or two in the years to come! (the phrase "Gummers How" comes to mind!!!!)

so this one is for you....have a good one! (hope the kids help you blow out all those candles! )


JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO



by: Robert Burns (1759-1796)

• OHN ANDERSON my jo,
  John, When we were first acquent,
  Your locks were like the raven,
  Your bonie brow was brent;
  But now your brow is beld, John,
  Your locks are like the snaw,
  but blessings on your frosty pow,
  John Anderson, my jo!
  
  John Anderson my jo, John,
  We clamb the hill thegither,
  And mony a canty day, John,
  We've had wi' ane anither;
  Now we maun totter down, John,
  But hand in hand we'll go,
  And sleep thegither at the foot,
• John Anderson, my jo!

[Hes]

I'm slowly catching up on posts and absolutely loved Freckle's poem about blackberrying. Really gorgeous. Just off to read Mossy's latest.

[Hes]

Wow! This brought a lump to my throat. I desperately need some long solo runs on the fells. Perspective on life would be great right now. Thanks for sharing this, it is beautiful.

It's been great pounding my home fells again, yet I can't quite capture their essential magic and majesty, but have penned the below (still needs some work !)

Solo

At August's end the North Pennine fells
offer a blueberried peace above the dales
and turn, as poets, purple liveried
sounding verse of a profound and quiet creed

solo runner, heads west, strives high
seeks to lift society's deluded veneered lie
in wanton search of stillness and solitude,
amalgam in which mind-body gently collude

lone runner, fell bound, forgetting all self,
climbs skywards to trace a mostly overlooked wealth
and casts every thought to the upland wind,
ensuring worldly cares and self-doubts will rescind

the route up being the only way, requires little force
and Reason alone no longer obscures a natural course
each hard won step forwards inevitably alters the path
and intuition released to quell the day's repressed wrath

the world unmasked, rolls in ecstasy at runner's feet
the artful rhythm of pulse and pace complete
flowing onwards, upwards, towards the evening sun
to the coveted prize of the consummate run

and range far across a swallow-emptied vastness,
joy upon joy compound to forge an enchanted fastness
measured breaths catch the honeyed heathered breeze
and a point is reached of simple synchrony and ease

so unveils the truth of life's immanent immediacy
freed from obligation to argue utility or vulgar expediency
this taste of raputure seeds a desire to return eagerly behoved
so this solo runner, to the North Pennine fells, is eternally betrothed.

[Hes]

Can't go to bed without a post. I finally got round to ordering the book of bird haikus that HHH recommended and here are a couple:

migrating swallows...
I twist the skein of wool
a little tighter

Doreen King


mountain ridge
folded in slate
the raven's wings

David Walker

[Mossdog]

Can't go to bed without a post. I finally got round to ordering the book of bird haikus that HHH recommended and here are a couple:

migrating swallows...
I twist the skein of wool
a little tighter

Doreen King


mountain ridge
folded in slate
the raven's wings

David Walker

When I read the first haiku it made me swallow too if you'll forgive the pun- (by the way, thanks for your kind words re; solo) Both Haiku are lovely, but there's something that strikes me so immediately with the first. Isn't it so very beautiful and just so apposite in every way and what sparkling simplicity. Haiku at their best. Hes, what was the book's title that HHH recommended please?

[Derby Tup]

I like the use of the word skein; very clever

[Derby Tup]

through September dew
fifteen migrating Curlew
probe turf eagerly

[Alf]

Murphy's Law

A step or two inside the door
this looks like all the other London boozers,
strawberry-nosed and ash-haired losers
and just what I'd been looking for:

red plush worn smooth and greasy,mottled,
carpet like a lunch of Jackson Pollock's,
nicotine-yellow ceiling,walls a light shit-brown shading
to dark,
a choice of draught or bottled
and in the bogs,graffiti from the Ark -
Never mind the Sex Pistols, here's the bollocks...

The barmaid tilts a glass with practised hand
and in flows a black swirling sludge.She lets it stand
a minute,I stand transfixed. In flows some more,
You have to let it settle. Get what you settle for.


Alan Jenkins