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Thread: Today's poet

  1. #10721
    Moderator Mossdog's Avatar
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    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by freckle View Post
    Oooo Alf you beat me to it! My mother informed me tonight over a cuppa !

    I don't have the poem you mentioned but I do have her book "Of mutability" which won and is indeed excellent (in my humble) , i hadn't realised that she had suffered from breast cancer which makes the followng poem even more spine tingling....(I had the pleasure of hearing her read it at newcastle's lit and phil society a truly "lush" institution which merits support in this awful climate of cuts!)...

    oh..and she has the most amazing voice...so try and imagine a husky voice reading this....

    Stargazer

    If I'm not looking at you,
    forgive; if I appear
    to be scanning the sky,
    head thrown back, curious,
    ecstatic, shy, strolling
    unevenly across the floor
    in front of you, my audience,
    forgive, and forget what's
    happening in my cells.
    It's you I'm thinking of
    and, voice thrown upwards,
    to you I'm speaking, you.
    .....Love is in the air, everywhere and all around...

    There's some great stuff on this thread and if I miss a day it's such a joy reading to catch up.

    A day late but I think we can enjoy Robbie at anytime too

    CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES

    By Robert Burns


    Chorus
    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them where the heather grows
    Ca' them where the burnie rows,
    My bonie dearie.

    Hark! the mavis' evening sang
    Sounding Cluden's woods amang,
    Then a-fauldin let us gang,
    My bonie dearie.

    We'll gae down by Cluden side,
    Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
    O'er the waves that sweetly glide
    To the moon sae clearly.

    Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
    Where at moonshine midnight hours,
    O'er the dewy-bending flowers,
    Fairies dance sae cheery.

    Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
    Thou 'rt to love and Heaven sae dear,
    Nocht of ill may come thee near,
    My bonie dearie.

    Fair and lovely as thou art,
    Thou hast stown my very heart;
    I can die—but canna part,
    My bonie dearie.


    Wished I'd posted this one too last night
    Am Yisrael Chai

  2. #10722

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Mossdog View Post
    .....Love is in the air, everywhere and all around...

    There's some great stuff on this thread and if I miss a day it's such a joy reading to catch up.

    A day late but I think we can enjoy Robbie at anytime too

    CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES

    By Robert Burns


    Chorus
    Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
    Ca' them where the heather grows
    Ca' them where the burnie rows,
    My bonie dearie.

    Hark! the mavis' evening sang
    Sounding Cluden's woods amang,
    Then a-fauldin let us gang,
    My bonie dearie.

    We'll gae down by Cluden side,
    Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
    O'er the waves that sweetly glide
    To the moon sae clearly.

    Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
    Where at moonshine midnight hours,
    O'er the dewy-bending flowers,
    Fairies dance sae cheery.

    Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
    Thou 'rt to love and Heaven sae dear,
    Nocht of ill may come thee near,
    My bonie dearie.

    Fair and lovely as thou art,
    Thou hast stown my very heart;
    I can die—but canna part,
    My bonie dearie.


    Wished I'd posted this one too last night
    How lovely Mossy, I particularly like the image of dancing fairies!

  3. #10723
    Master
    Join Date
    Mar 2008
    Location
    Whitburn by the sea :-)
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    Re: Today's poet

    Television

    The most important thing we've learned,
    So far as children are concerned,
    Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
    Them near your television set --
    Or better still, just don't install
    The idiotic thing at all.
    In almost every house we've been,
    We've watched them gaping at the screen.
    They loll and slop and lounge about,
    And stare until their eyes pop out.
    (Last week in someone's place we saw
    A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
    They sit and stare and stare and sit
    Until they're hypnotised by it,
    Until they're absolutely drunk
    With all that shocking ghastly junk.
    Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
    They don't climb out the window sill,
    They never fight or kick or punch,
    They leave you free to cook the lunch
    And wash the dishes in the sink --
    But did you ever stop to think,
    To wonder just exactly what
    This does to your beloved tot?
    IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
    IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
    IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
    IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
    HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
    A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
    HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
    HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
    HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
    'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
    'But if we take the set away,
    What shall we do to entertain
    Our darling children? Please explain!'
    We'll answer this by asking you,
    'What used the darling ones to do?
    'How used they keep themselves contented
    Before this monster was invented?'
    Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
    We'll say it very loud and slow:
    THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
    AND READ and READ, and then proceed
    To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
    One half their lives was reading books!
    The nursery shelves held books galore!
    Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
    And in the bedroom, by the bed,
    More books were waiting to be read!
    Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
    Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
    And treasure isles, and distant shores
    Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
    And pirates wearing purple pants,
    And sailing ships and elephants,
    And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
    Stirring away at something hot.
    (It smells so good, what can it be?
    Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
    The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
    With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
    And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
    And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
    Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
    And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
    And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
    There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
    Oh, books, what books they used to know,
    Those children living long ago!
    So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
    Go throw your TV set away,
    And in its place you can install
    A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
    Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
    Ignoring all the dirty looks,
    The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
    And children hitting you with sticks-
    Fear not, because we promise you
    That, in about a week or two
    Of having nothing else to do,
    They'll now begin to feel the need
    Of having something to read.
    And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
    You watch the slowly growing joy
    That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
    They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
    In that ridiculous machine,
    That nauseating, foul, unclean,
    Repulsive television screen!
    And later, each and every kid
    Will love you more for what you did.

    Roald Dahl

  4. #10724
    Master
    Join Date
    Jan 2007
    Location
    Down south now
    Posts
    2,742

    Re: Today's poet

    Quote Originally Posted by Mossdog;389455I
    think we can enjoy Robbie at anytime too
    I agree...

    A Man's A Man For A' That

    Is there for honest Poverty
    That hings his head, an' a' that;
    The coward slave-we pass him by,
    We dare be poor for a' that!
    For a' that, an' a' that.
    Our toils obscure an' a' that,
    The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
    The Man's the gowd for a' that.

    What though on hamely fare we dine,
    Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
    Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
    A Man's a Man for a' that:
    For a' that, and a' that,
    Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
    The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
    Is king o' men for a' that.

    Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
    Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
    Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
    He's but a coof for a' that:
    For a' that, an' a' that,
    His ribband, star, an' a' that:
    The man o' independent mind
    He looks an' laughs at a' that.

    A prince can mak a belted knight,
    A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
    But an honest man's abon his might,
    Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
    For a' that, an' a' that,
    Their dignities an' a' that;
    The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
    Are higher rank than a' that.

    Then let us pray that come it may,
    (As come it will for a' that,)
    That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
    Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
    For a' that, an' a' that,
    It's coming yet for a' that,
    That Man to Man, the world o'er,
    Shall brothers be for a' that.

  5. #10725

    Re: Today's poet

    nice one x raunner...i never tire of reading the dialect inherent in burns poetry...

    on a different note, i found this clip of jo shapcott re her award, she is pretty humble...not sure why as she is CLASS!
    http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/b...-the-life.html

  6. #10726

    Re: Today's poet

    all this cold weather....my thoughts are turning towards the summer....most definately....just a small leap of imagination can take me (you) there!


    Moonlight, summer moonlight by Emily Bronte

    'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
    All soft and still and fair;
    The solemn hour of midnight
    Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,

    But most where trees are sending
    Their breezy boughs on high,
    Or stooping low are lending
    A shelter from the sky.

    And there in those wild bowers
    A lovely form is laid;
    Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
    Wave gently round her head.

  7. #10727
    Master
    Join Date
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    Posts
    6,158

    Re: Today's poet

    The Red Poppy

    The great thing
    is not having
    a mind. Feelings:
    oh, I have those; they
    govern me. I have
    a lord in heaven
    called the sun, and open
    for him, showing him
    the fire of my own heart, fire
    like his presence.
    What could such glory be
    if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
    were you like me once, long ago,
    before you were human? Did you
    permit yourselves
    to open once, who would never
    open again? Because in truth
    I am speaking now
    the way you do. I speak
    because I am shattered.

    Louise Gluck

  8. #10728
    Master
    Join Date
    Aug 2009
    Location
    North Yorkshire
    Posts
    3,970

    Re: Today's poet

    Ha ha! Excellent and I totally agree. A friend quoted this today 'television is a weapon of mass distraction' (I hadn't heard it before but how true!).


    Quote Originally Posted by Mountain Goatess View Post
    Television

    The most important thing we've learned,
    So far as children are concerned,
    Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
    Them near your television set --
    Or better still, just don't install
    The idiotic thing at all.
    In almost every house we've been,
    We've watched them gaping at the screen.
    They loll and slop and lounge about,
    And stare until their eyes pop out.
    (Last week in someone's place we saw
    A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
    They sit and stare and stare and sit
    Until they're hypnotised by it,
    Until they're absolutely drunk
    With all that shocking ghastly junk.
    Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
    They don't climb out the window sill,
    They never fight or kick or punch,
    They leave you free to cook the lunch
    And wash the dishes in the sink --
    But did you ever stop to think,
    To wonder just exactly what
    This does to your beloved tot?
    IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
    IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
    IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
    IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
    HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
    A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
    HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
    HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
    HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
    'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
    'But if we take the set away,
    What shall we do to entertain
    Our darling children? Please explain!'
    We'll answer this by asking you,
    'What used the darling ones to do?
    'How used they keep themselves contented
    Before this monster was invented?'
    Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
    We'll say it very loud and slow:
    THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
    AND READ and READ, and then proceed
    To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
    One half their lives was reading books!
    The nursery shelves held books galore!
    Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
    And in the bedroom, by the bed,
    More books were waiting to be read!
    Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
    Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
    And treasure isles, and distant shores
    Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
    And pirates wearing purple pants,
    And sailing ships and elephants,
    And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
    Stirring away at something hot.
    (It smells so good, what can it be?
    Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
    The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
    With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
    And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
    And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
    Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
    And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
    And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
    There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
    Oh, books, what books they used to know,
    Those children living long ago!
    So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
    Go throw your TV set away,
    And in its place you can install
    A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
    Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
    Ignoring all the dirty looks,
    The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
    And children hitting you with sticks-
    Fear not, because we promise you
    That, in about a week or two
    Of having nothing else to do,
    They'll now begin to feel the need
    Of having something to read.
    And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
    You watch the slowly growing joy
    That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
    They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
    In that ridiculous machine,
    That nauseating, foul, unclean,
    Repulsive television screen!
    And later, each and every kid
    Will love you more for what you did.

    Roald Dahl

  9. #10729
    Master
    Join Date
    Aug 2009
    Location
    North Yorkshire
    Posts
    3,970

    Re: Today's poet

    Its been a while since I had a chance to call in here and catch up properly so I am glad that I didn't miss this. Its a moving poem Ratfink and I like the fact that you posted the very funny Blisters in Arches before it. Good to see two very contrasting sides to your writing.

    I also really liked Freckle's 'Nutchatch'.

    Quote Originally Posted by ratfink View Post
    Eulogy

    Dear Ciaran
    The proper use of the past tense deserts me
    You weren't meant to be confined to the past
    I know you never found this life too easy
    I think maybe we knew it couldn't last
    But we always kept on hoping we could save you
    We always hoped our love might be enough
    But somewhere inside where we couldn't reach you
    Is where you fought your demons by yourself
    I'm happy that I had the chance to know you
    I can't believe I've lost what I had found
    If there's a heaven then all the drinks are harmless
    And when I get there you c*nt then it's your round

  10. #10730
    Master
    Join Date
    Aug 2009
    Location
    North Yorkshire
    Posts
    3,970

    Re: Today's poet

    Inspired by a very nice run by the river with a friend this morning and Freckle's nuthatch poem, I'm posting this from Norman MacCaig:

    Dipper

    No webbed feet,
    but a water bird for all that.

    And a gentlemanly one -
    he walks on the bottom
    of his helter-skelter stream
    wearing a white shirt front
    and a brown cummerbund.

    He hates dry land.
    Flying up a twisty stream
    he follows the twists
    all the way.

    When he perches on a stone
    it's a wet one
    He stands there, bobbing and bobbing
    as though the water's applauding him.

    He likes his nest
    to be behind a rippling tapestry -
    a tapestry? Well,
    a waterfall.

    Naturally.

    Norman MacCaig

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