Get a dog Hes - cake is overratedOriginally Posted by Hes
I see. Thanks Stolly!
I don't want any cake ever again right now. Its horrible to get so excited about cake and think it is the best cake ever only to find out that it is deeply disappointing and makes me ill.
Thanks for Skeins o Geese, Mossdog. I've been reluctant to post poems in dialect because they can be difficult for some people, and also Scots words do often look strange when written rather than spoken. Maybe I should go out on a limb more.
Freckle, MG, Alf - your poems and choices are just great.
On the theme of geese (and homesickness), here's Violet Jacob, from 1915 I think.
“Oh tell me fit was on yer road ye roarin Norland wind?
As ye come blawin frae the land that's never frae ma mind.
Ma feet they traivel England but I'm deein for the North.”
"Ma man, I saw the siller tides rin up the Firth o Forth."
"Aye wind, I ken them weel eneuch an fine they fa and rise,
And fain I'd feel the creepin mist on yonder shore that lies.
But tell me as ye pass them by fit saw ye on the way?"
"Ma man, I rocked the rovin gulls that sail abin the Tay."
"Bit saw ye naethin leein wind afore ye come tae Fife?
For there's muckle lyin 'yont the Tay that's mair tae me nor life."
"Ma man, I swept the Angus braes that ye hivna trod for years."
"Oh wind, forgie a hameless loon that canna see for tears."
"And far abin the Angus straths I saw the wild geese flee,
A lang, lang skein o beatin wings wi their heids toward the sea,
And aye their cryin voices trailed ahint them on the air."
"Oh wind, hae mercy, haud your wheesht for I daurna listen mair."
The Wild Geese or Norland Wind
"Oh tell me what was on your road, you roaring Norland Wind?"
As you come blowing from the land that's never from my mind.
My feet they travel England, but I'm dying for the North."
"My man, I saw the silver tides run up the Firth of Forth."
"Oh wind, I know them well enough and fine they fall and rise.
But rather I would feel the creeping mist which on yonder shore lies.
But tell me as you pass them by, what did you see
But tell me as ye pass them by fit saw ye on the way?"
"My man, I rocked the roving gulls that sail above the Tay."
"But saw you nothing, lying wind, before you came to Fife?
For there's a lot lying beyond the Tay that's more to me than life."
"My man, I swept the Angus braes you haven't trod for years."
"Oh wind, forgive a homeless fool that cannot see for tears."
And far above the Angus straths, I saw the wild geese flee
A long, long skein of beating wings with their heads towards the sea.
And always their crying voices trailed behind them on the air,
"Oh wind, have mercy, be quiet, for I dare not listen more."
"Haud yer wheesht" would be an expression you would use to a friend or child, telling them to be quiet/stop talking about something as it is too upsetting or painful for the listener to continue to listen to.
I enjoyed that Einar. The wind is a fertile area for poets. I am still trying to work out what freckle's cheese evening is all about though?. I got into trouble last time I interpreted one of her poems
And on the wind theme that Einar has introduced:
THE WIND.
Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That phraseless melody
The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.
When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,
I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that fleshless chant
Rise solemn in the tree,
As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.
Emily Dickinson
Sound advice, thanks Stolly!
Get a dog Hes - cake is overrated
ghostly barn owl
patrolling Axe Valley fields
silent assassin
I really like this DT! Lovely.
There was a nice piece in the Guardian today about this poem.
What mystery pervades a well!
by Emily Dickinson
What mystery pervades a well!
That water lives so far –
A neighbor from another world
Residing in a jar
Whose limit none has ever seen,
But just his lid of glass –
Like looking every time you please
In an abyss's face!
The grass does not appear afraid,
I often wonder he
Can stand so close and look so bold
At what is awe to me.
Related somehow they may be,
The sedge stands near the sea –
Where he is floorless
And does no timidity betray
But nature is a stranger yet:
The ones that cite her most
Have never passed her haunted house,
Nor simplified her ghost.
To pity those that know her not
Is helped by the regret
That those who know her, know her less
The nearer her they get.
Another classic DT.
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