Today's poet

[Sunbeam Alpine]

Hello - another dip into the site and good to see apple poetry as windfall. I love bramleys - so good to see you've a fine crop Hes. And I always thought the north east was a poor apple area

This from Canadian Robert Bringhurst

The Reader

Who reads her while she reads ?Her eyes slide
under the paper, into another world
while all we hear of it
or see is the slow surf of turning pages.

Her mother might not recognise her,
soaked to the skin as she is in her own shadow.
How could you then ? You with your watch and tongue
still running, tell me : how much does she lose

when she looks up? When she lifts
the ladles of her eyes, how much
flows back into the book, and how much
spills down the walls of the overflowing world ?

Children, playing alone, will sometimes
come back suddenly , seeing what it is
to be here, and their eyes are altered. Hers too. Words
she's never said reshape her lips forever.

[freckle]

Hello - another dip into the site and good to see apple poetry as windfall. I love bramleys - so good to see you've a fine crop Hes. And I always thought the north east was a poor apple area

This from Canadian Robert Bringhurst

The Reader

Who reads her while she reads ?Her eyes slide
under the paper, into another world
while all we hear of it
or see is the slow surf of turning pages.

Her mother might not recognise her,
soaked to the skin as she is in her own shadow.
How could you then ? You with your watch and tongue
still running, tell me : how much does she lose

when she looks up? When she lifts
the ladles of her eyes, how much
flows back into the book, and how much
spills down the walls of the overflowing world ?

Children, playing alone, will sometimes
come back suddenly , seeing what it is
to be here, and their eyes are altered. Hers too. Words
she's never said reshape her lips forever.

This is just awesome SA... really love the description of "the ladles of her eyes" beautiful!

[freckle]

Evening all...

Off all next week.... "get in" as we geordie's say...

anyhoo......



Achene’s letter to Pappus

The dent de lion seems eons away now
and sometimes you know,
being up here, at the mercy of this gust and that
well, sometimes I’ve wondered
is that my DNA changing?

The sensation has been one of morph-ing
molecule by molecule
of being stripped bare
to a mere tuft of a fruit.
You watched agape (and occasionally held my hand)
Knowing all too well that it was my journey.

I can tell you
a year without any observeable landing pad
is not easy on the ol nerves
and I think I, (actually WE)
may have broken some kind of botanical record
suffice to say,
its a good job this parachute is quality!

but anyway, look over there....
LOOK!!!!
Home’s a beckoning and the cotton,
(like huge enveloping duvets on wintry mornings)
is just a blink away.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Achene
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pappus_(flower_structure)

[freckle]

Just getting my own back for those cheese similes of yours freckle

Loved the John Clare poem which I haven't seen before. I will look up the rest of it after that taster

Mmmm yes...the cheese similies...i doubt that will EVER be forgotten alfster!!!!!! I too love your new avatar by the way

[freckle]

Feeling nostalgic I was checking the early days of the thread when i stumbled across this lovely post by DT (a big Pablo Neruda fan) ... its so lovely....


And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind



Final verse of La Poesía (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda



to me this sums up the feeling of freedom I sometimes get from poetry...a bit like that feeling of "flow" when running

[Old Whippet]

Evening all...

Off all next week.... "get in" as we geordie's say...

anyhoo......



Achene’s letter to Pappus

The dent de lion seems eons away now
and sometimes you know,
being up here, at the mercy of this gust and that
well, sometimes I’ve wondered
is that my DNA changing?

The sensation has been one of morph-ing
molecule by molecule
of being stripped bare
to a mere tuft of a fruit.
You watched agape (and occasionally held my hand)
Knowing all too well that it was my journey.

I can tell you
a year without any observeable landing pad
is not easy on the ol nerves
and I think I, (actually WE)
may have broken some kind of botanical record
suffice to say,
its a good job this parachute is quality!

but anyway, look over there....
LOOK!!!!
Home’s a beckoning and the cotton,
(like huge enveloping duvets on wintry mornings)
is just a blink away.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Achene
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pappus_(flower_structure)

Critical remarks re the above poem...
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

[freckle]

Critical remarks re the above poem...
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

by your up late hound!!!!!! I've heard that in poetry circles the comment "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" is accepted poetry speak for "jolly good"...so thank you kind sir! :-)

[Old Whippet]

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brindled cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spáre, strange;
Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)
With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:

Práise hím.

Nice one Hes. I'd forgotten this one. Old Gerard did manage a second up-beat poem. Shame he got so depressed. I suspect we studied English Lit at the same time! Lovely to read it again. Now, one last sleep. The Lakes are calling.

[Derby Tup]

Funnily enough I had a trawl back through early pages on Monday

Last year has flown by

Feeling nostalgic I was checking the early days of the thread when i stumbled across this lovely post by DT (a big Pablo Neruda fan) ... its so lovely....


And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind



Final verse of La Poesía (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda



to me this sums up the feeling of freedom I sometimes get from poetry...a bit like that feeling of "flow" when running

[Alf]

Evening all...

Off all next week.... "get in" as we geordie's say...

anyhoo......

Achene’s letter to Pappus

The dent de lion seems eons away now
and sometimes you know,
being up here, at the mercy of this gust and that
well, sometimes I’ve wondered
is that my DNA changing?

The sensation has been one of morph-ing
molecule by molecule
of being stripped bare
to a mere tuft of a fruit.
You watched agape (and occasionally held my hand)
Knowing all too well that it was my journey.

I can tell you
a year without any observeable landing pad
is not easy on the ol nerves
and I think I, (actually WE)
may have broken some kind of botanical record
suffice to say,
its a good job this parachute is quality!

but anyway, look over there....
LOOK!!!!
Home’s a beckoning and the cotton,
(like huge enveloping duvets on wintry mornings)
is just a blink away.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Achene
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pappus_(flower_structure)

Smashing poem freckle
When we were kids we used to blow on them to tell the time do kids still do that?
The other floaters we used to try and catch were called sugarstealers (not sure why but a great name anyway) which I think come from thistles?