Today's poet

[Alf]

I wonder if anyone can help with the search for the rest of this poem 'Winter: East Anglia' that this verse came from?
I have Blundens excellent book 'Undertones of War' about his 1st WW experiences and war poetry but this poem I believe was written afterwards and isn't a war poem its just about the countryside. Blunden was an admirer of John Clare's work.

Winter: East Anglia

But the cornered weasel stands his ground,
Shrieks at the dogs and boys set round,
Shrieks as he knows they stand all round,
And hard as winter dies.

Edmund Blunden

[Mossdog]

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.

Good choice Frecks, what a lovely poem.

First snowy running of this winter today, along the Teeadale/Weardale border, and it was soooooooooooooo EXCITING! (but bloody cold in that cutting NW wind ouch!)

[Hes]

I think this is brilliant OneOff, really glad that I came back on the thread before it was pushed too many pages back and I missed it. Hope you write some more.

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

[Hes]

A friend sent me this from MacCaig and I've just been visiting my estranged wee dog who is in a lot of pain from being bowled over by a much bigger dog. Poor little thing has injured her back and is dosed up on painkillers. I am wondering if there is such a thing as a chiropractor for dogs. This isn't a very uplifting poem but it says a lot about dogs and their unique characters.

Praise of a collie - Norman MacCaig

She was a small dog, neat and fluid –
Even her conversation was tiny:
She greeted you with bow, never bow-wow.

Her sons stood monumentally over her
But did what she told them. Each grew grizzled
Till he seemed he was his own mother’s grandfather.
Once, gathering sheep on a showery day,
I remarked how dry she was. Pollóchan said ‘Ah,
It would take a very accurate drop to hit Lassie.’
And her tact-and tactics! When the sheep bolted
In an unforeseen direction, over the skyline
Came- who but Lassie, and not even panting
She sailed in the dinghy like a proper sea-dog.
Where’s a burn? – she’s first on the other side.
She flowed through fences like a piece of black wind.
But suddenly she was old and sick and crippled . . .
I grieved for Pollóchan when he took her a stroll
And put his gun to the back of her head.

[Harry H Howgill]

Sorry to hear about your doggie Hes. Stick with the painkillers and I hope he gets better. Don't go for the Pollochan solution just yet. I didn't see the poem going that way. It sort of caught me by surprise.

A friend sent me this from MacCaig and I've just been visiting my estranged wee dog who is in a lot of pain from being bowled over by a much bigger dog. Poor little thing has injured her back and is dosed up on painkillers. I am wondering if there is such a thing as a chiropractor for dogs. This isn't a very uplifting poem but it says a lot about dogs and their unique characters.

Praise of a collie - Norman MacCaig

She was a small dog, neat and fluid –
Even her conversation was tiny:
She greeted you with bow, never bow-wow.

Her sons stood monumentally over her
But did what she told them. Each grew grizzled
Till he seemed he was his own mother’s grandfather.
Once, gathering sheep on a showery day,
I remarked how dry she was. Pollóchan said ‘Ah,
It would take a very accurate drop to hit Lassie.’
And her tact-and tactics! When the sheep bolted
In an unforeseen direction, over the skyline
Came- who but Lassie, and not even panting
She sailed in the dinghy like a proper sea-dog.
Where’s a burn? – she’s first on the other side.
She flowed through fences like a piece of black wind.
But suddenly she was old and sick and crippled . . .
I grieved for Pollóchan when he took her a stroll
And put his gun to the back of her head.

[Harry H Howgill]

Snow finally arrived last night. I'm trying to avoid significant injuries. Minor ones I can cope with!

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

[Mossdog]

A friend sent me this from MacCaig and I've just been visiting my estranged wee dog who is in a lot of pain from being bowled over by a much bigger dog. Poor little thing has injured her back and is dosed up on painkillers. I am wondering if there is such a thing as a chiropractor for dogs. This isn't a very uplifting poem but it says a lot about dogs and their unique characters.

Praise of a collie - Norman MacCaig

She was a small dog, neat and fluid –
Even her conversation was tiny:
She greeted you with bow, never bow-wow.

Her sons stood monumentally over her
But did what she told them. Each grew grizzled
Till he seemed he was his own mother’s grandfather.
Once, gathering sheep on a showery day,
I remarked how dry she was. Pollóchan said ‘Ah,
It would take a very accurate drop to hit Lassie.’
And her tact-and tactics! When the sheep bolted
In an unforeseen direction, over the skyline
Came- who but Lassie, and not even panting
She sailed in the dinghy like a proper sea-dog.
Where’s a burn? – she’s first on the other side.
She flowed through fences like a piece of black wind.
But suddenly she was old and sick and crippled . . .
I grieved for Pollóchan when he took her a stroll
And put his gun to the back of her head.

GULP - Christ Hes! You could have warned us!

[Mossdog]

Snow finally arrived last night. I'm trying to avoid significant injuries. Minor ones I can cope with!

What a truly amazing photo HHH. Magnificent capture of snow, fun, and action

[Harry H Howgill]

What a truly amazing photo HHH. Magnificent capture of snow, fun, and action

I can't take the credit Mossy. I just Googled for something relevant. :-)

[Mossdog]

What a truly amazing photo HHH. Magnificent capture of snow, fun, and action

Thank goodness for that. It's one thing knowing you're a top-notch fell runner and creative poet, but having photographic brilliance too! A bloke can only tolerate so much of his sense of inadequacy you know!