Today's poet

[Alf]

I haven't been on here much lately; there's some lovely originals on here, Freckle, and I'm liking MG's Neruda contribution.
So...as I haven't contributed lately, I thought I'd have another go at writing something:

Seasonal celebration

Lightning flashes her sword of fire
flanked by thunder, his feet in the mire
a grand finale as clouds shroud the sky
beauty in the moment when summer passes by
a funeral of colours turning red, amber, gold
hot cools to warm, then mellow, cool and cold.

Jack frost takes the stage and spreads his icy cloak
a gift of winter wonderland; what a smashing bloke
sparkles and shimmers, icicles iridescent
guarded through the dark hours by the lunar crescent
but nothing lasts forever, as well we all know
winters graceful parting, at the end of the show

Nights are getting lighter, green shoots showing now
new born take the stage, nature takes her bow
early morning bird song for April in her crown
soaking the earth, parading her floral gown
Warmed by the morning sun, glowing with pride
Summer takes the stand once more, a prince to his bride.

I hope you like it.
:love:

I like that very much Stef

[Alf]

I really should be in bed by now...typical sunday night behaviour from me then.....not that I am in denial or anything.....


Ode to Glinda

Another toxic day in a structure containing people,
I put on scarlet tights and with mulled wine lips
climb into the bat mobile and drive.
Past the first flush of autumn and some garbage,
In a balletic gust of wind (not quite a tornado).
The ton weight lifts from my shoulders,
as I drive over the Emerald bridge.


The Icelandic girl on my new CD sings
“I hope you choke on your plastic halo”
Which makes me laugh, I kinda get it.
And with a click of the ruby slippers,
I am in an old Mill, eating beef stew
and discussing the finer points of Scottish midgies,
with an aptly languid mountain boy...
Toto and his mate (the boy Armitage’s unwanted lover)

And I think...


"There’s no place like home.
There’s no place like home.
There’s no place like home."

A cut above that one freckle ! You should do all your poems on a Sunday night I love the way you worked the Wizard of Oz bits in!

[Alf]

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.

Excellent poem that Mossy, it really brings out your enthusiasm and enjoyment of running in the part of the country you love.

[freckle]

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

Ooooo now I like this, feels a little bit like Bukowski in London! its got a nice hard edge to it which gives it some authenticity....thanx for the comment about ode to glinda...:-)

[freckle]

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

Beuatiful...I also really liked DT's original work too...good to see you popping on again Hes :-)

[Harry H Howgill]

That is so lovely sweetie. Thanks very much for that. It has been a fun year. The cake was good but we couldn't find the candles. We think they were buried in the garden last week by the kids. The Burns was a thoughtful choice. Here's to another year of fine poets and poetry.

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!

[Harry H Howgill]

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

Thanks Hes. The kettle is aways on for a fell poet. x

[Harry H Howgill]

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?

http://www.wingbeats.co.uk/the_book.html

This is the one Mossy.

[Harry H Howgill]

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

Well you beat me to it! I just realised that I didn't order it for myself in the end! I'm off to Amazon.

I love the Raven haiku. It takes me back to my bold youth, climbing in the Welsh slate quarries. Can you tell I'm reflecting on my age today! ;-)

[Einar]

So many good choices on here - Murphy's Law, John Anderson, My Jo, - and the bird haikus sound great. Perhaps this one has been posted before but I'd like to share it with you, in memory of a dear friend who has passed away.

Break, Break, Break

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

Alfred Lord Tennyson