Today's poet

[L.F.F.]

Hello everyone

I still get nervous when i post something I've written. At least I'm back on familiar territory. Rather topically for me, I've been thinking about all the help you get when on a BGR. it moved me to tears on more than one occasion, and i felt compelled to try and express that. But not just that. The fact that those at the start have to hang onto you for dear life whilst those later on are trying to keep you going, the road crew managing that transition from one stage/side of the road to the other and the fact that you, then contender, are the common denominator, the baton. The thread on the BGR bit of the forum about bad jokes also made me laugh and gets a nod here too. I also had to mention the physical change from spritely fellrunner to gaunt hanger-on (greyhound to ghost...).

I really enjoyed writing this (more than you will enjoy reading it i suspect) as it reminded me so much of my days out of the BGR and of adventures to come. It's not a poem that flows so well, but neither does a BGR!!


Baton

I'm a human baton
Pass me on
between this roadside grassy verge
and the other one

I'm a human baton
Keep me strong
Keep the calories going in
and put the kettle on

I'm a human baton
Straining the leash to go faster
Fuelled by rest and adrenalin
and pasta

I'm a human baton
Getting heavier each peak
but curiously easier to carry
now I'm getting weak

I'm a human baton
Please stop me thinking
Just talk crap and keep me drinking
"Have you heard the one...?"

I'm a human baton
Borne by friends and friendly strangers
Asking nothing for their labours
and so more humbling than the mountains

I'm a human baton
In a monster of a relay
Passed from Pillar to post
moving from greyhound to ghost

I'm a human baton
You bought me home
Intact, but cover blown
by my tears of gratitude

Really liked that

[Derby Tup]

"Leonids Over Us"

The sky is streaked with them
burning hole in black space --
like fireworks, someone says
all friendly in the dark chill
of Newcomb Hollow in November,
friends known only by voices.

We lie on the cold sand and it
embraces us, this beach
where locals never go in summer
and boast of their absence. Now
we lie eyes open to the flowers
of white ice that blaze over us

and seem to imprint directly
on our brains. I feel the earth,
rolling beneath as we face out
into the endlessness we usually
ignore. Past the evanscent
meteors, infinity pulls hard

Marge Piercy

[Derby Tup]

"Letter in November"

Love, the world
Sudenly turns, turns color. The streetlight
Splits through the rat's-tail
Pods of the laburnum at nine in the morning.
It is the Arctic,

This little black
Circle, with its tawn silk grasses -- babies' hair.
There is a green in the air,
Soft, delectable.
It cushions me lovingly.

I am flushed and warm.
I think I may be enormous,
I am so stupidly happy,
My wellingtons
Squelching and squelching through the beautiful red.

This is my property.
Two times a day
I pace it, sniffing
The barbarous holly with its viridian
Scallops, pure iron,

And the wall of old corpses.
I love them.
I love them like history.
The apples are golden,
Imagine it ----

My seventy trees
Holding their gold-ruddy balls
In a thick gray death-soup,
Their million
Gold leaves metal and breathless.

O love, O celibate.
Nobody but me
Walks the waist-high wet.
The irreplaceable
Golds bleed and deepen, the mouths of Thermopylae

Sylvia Plath

[Harry H Howgill]

I love that!

Saw this Haiku on a T Shirt:

Haiku are easy
But Sometimes Don't Make Much Sense
Hippopotamus

[Alf]

I like this a great deal...I am not sure if I have "a mind of winter" but we will sharp find out if the snow comes tomorrow as predicted!

Any snow yet in the North East freckle ? Put another log on the fire brrrrrrr !

[Alf]

"Leonids Over Us"

The sky is streaked with them
burning hole in black space --
like fireworks, someone says
all friendly in the dark chill
of Newcomb Hollow in November,
friends known only by voices.

We lie on the cold sand and it
embraces us, this beach
where locals never go in summer
and boast of their absence. Now
we lie eyes open to the flowers
of white ice that blaze over us

and seem to imprint directly
on our brains. I feel the earth,
rolling beneath as we face out
into the endlessness we usually
ignore. Past the evanscent
meteors, infinity pulls hard

Marge Piercy

I liked these two selections of yours DT especially that line about "the earth rolling beneath "

[Alf]

Baton

I'm a human baton
Pass me on
between this roadside grassy verge
and the other one

I'm a human baton
Keep me strong
Keep the calories going in
and put the kettle on

I'm a human baton
Straining the leash to go faster
Fuelled by rest and adrenalin
and pasta

I'm a human baton
Getting heavier each peak
but curiously easier to carry
now I'm getting weak

I'm a human baton
Please stop me thinking
Just talk crap and keep me drinking
"Have you heard the one...?"

I'm a human baton
Borne by friends and friendly strangers
Asking nothing for their labours
and so more humbling than the mountains

I'm a human baton
In a monster of a relay
Passed from Pillar to post
moving from greyhound to ghost

I'm a human baton
You bought me home
Intact, but cover blown
by my tears of gratitude

Loved this poem of yours OOP and the concept of the human baton

[freckle]

Any snow yet in the North East freckle ? Put another log on the fire brrrrrrr !

you could say that!...flamin trecherous in a winter wonderland type way of course! ...some fine choices in my absence especially the plath!

here is an old favourite...to celebrate life me thinks...

Wild Geese
Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

[Harry H Howgill]

I've got my sledge all at the ready but there isn't a drop of snow here. Very disappointing. :-(

I like the Mary Oliver.

you could say that!...flamin trecherous in a winter wonderland type way of course! ...some fine choices in my absence especially the plath!

here is an old favourite...to celebrate life me thinks...

Wild Geese
Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

[freckle]

I've got my sledge all at the ready but there isn't a drop of snow here. Very disappointing. :-(

I like the Mary Oliver.

get yer sel to the north east ali! we have a whole golf course here waiting for you to acquire a significant injury! you have reminded me i need to purchase a sledge quick sharp! ) x