Today's poet

[freckle]

I am really really really missing running at the minute...even contemplating joining the gym (think no fresh air, no lovely scenery etc) so I don't become a total couch potatoe! .....still waiting to hear from physio lets hope i can manage to get some fitness back in time for simonside!

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day.
Accept the flusterof lost door keys,
the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther,
losing fasterlaces, and names,
and where it was you meant to travel.
None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch.
And look! my last, ornext-to-last,
of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones.
And, vaster,some realms I owned,
two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gestureI love)
I shan't have lied.
It's evidentthe art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

[Einar]

Two beautiful poems - thanks Alf, Freckle. On the subject of loss, I think all of us probably wish we could meet our parents again someday, even for a short while. But much more tragic when you lose them while they still live.

Beautiful mind

The things inside his mind are blurring
and drifting like snow, they are settling
into great heaps, burying whatever lay there.
May there be moments that feel as if they were lifted
from his granddaughter's collage of autumn:

the three pairs of pale gold sycamore wings, perhaps,
with their flying birdshapes echoing one another;
the bend and swoop and line of reddened leaf-stems,
or else the copper beech leaves, so exactly placed,
the white space clear between them, perfect as snow.

Elizabeth Burns

[Hes]

Gosh this is astonishingly beautiful...maybe the references to nature make it more poignant (for me anyway). In a couple weeks, my sisters, mum and myself will gather to remember my dad. Its five years since he died. His death was sudden but in some ways a relief as the life with his illness would have been very hard for him, let alone us, to bear. It must be incredibly hard for those that watch their loved one's decline, especially mentally. The last few choices on loss have been really moving. It puts other troubles into perspective.

Two beautiful poems - thanks Alf, Freckle. On the subject of loss, I think all of us probably wish we could meet our parents again someday, even for a short while. But much more tragic when you lose them while they still live.

Beautiful mind

The things inside his mind are blurring
and drifting like snow, they are settling
into great heaps, burying whatever lay there.
May there be moments that feel as if they were lifted
from his granddaughter's collage of autumn:

the three pairs of pale gold sycamore wings, perhaps,
with their flying birdshapes echoing one another;
the bend and swoop and line of reddened leaf-stems,
or else the copper beech leaves, so exactly placed,
the white space clear between them, perfect as snow.

Elizabeth Burns

[Mossdog]

Ha ha...

I pray for a man…
No hold on, I’m an atheist…

I wish for a man who’s not mad,
I wish for a man who’s not bad
I’d like to meet a guy
Without a roving eye
And one who won’t leave me so sad

I wish for a man who will talk
Who’d enjoy a long rambling walk
It would be much funner
If he was a keen runner
And women he would never stalk

A bloke that likes a good laugh
Who’s glass is near full at the half
Who treats me with care
Looks good when he’s bare
And wants me to share his hot bath.


Then again…you can never underestimate the company of a nice dog!

Blimey! Talk about wanting your cake and eating it!!!!

[Mossdog]

Thursday tarmac trot
tired throbbing tempo'd thighs
thoughts turn towards tea

That's Truly Tip Top

[Mossdog]

Fine choices Freckle and Alf. (Thanks for the link, by the way.) I must read more (a lot more) poetry. DT, excellent rhyme is always welcome to me, as is a good laugh XRunner. Another great page! Here's Tom Pow.

Spanish Shaving

As light dims, I take my shaver outside
to trim my holiday beard. The grey drifts
down to tinder-dry grasses; the small blades
chirr like insects as my blind hand sifts


through the stubble. That's when my wife appears
and sees at once something else we can share.
In tending each wanton bristle, she blanks
out all but the job at hand. A car roars


through the vineyards; a dog barks. The leaves
rattle in the almost breeze, while I lean
forward like an old man in surrender.
There was stubble behind his blue jaw-line


my father always missed. His late kisses
exposed it when, trusting in her answer,
he tipped his face towards my mother. His mask
briefly hovers in the warm evening air.


Between my face and it, my wife's sweet breath
travels the blind trajectory of love.

Sublime -and those last few lines in particular. Thanks Einar.

[Hes]

Never understood that saying...surely if you have a nice cake, you'd want to eat at least some of it and real, as opposed to metaphorical, cake is about the only thing I find tempting right now!

Blimey! Talk about wanting your cake and eating it!!!!

[Hes]

first cross country race
a lapse of sanity as
I head for the door

[Stolly]

Never understood that saying...surely if you have a nice cake, you'd want to eat at least some of it and real, as opposed to metaphorical, cake is about the only thing I find tempting right now!

Its all explained here ---> wolde you bothe eate your cake, and have your cake?

[Einar]

Your long hair shining
In the soft light of the fire
As we lean to kiss