Today's poet

[Alf]

Did you see any more than we did? It was foggy that day!

Yep it was very clear today Harry and the low sun was in our eyes as we headed west from High Cup Nick.

Cue Winter Sun poem (though its not really about nature )

There's a certain Slant of light

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –
'Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –


Emily Dickinson

[Nee Bother]

A few lines found in my sketchbook from 2003 while staying at Thorney How.

Easedale Farm

Never trust the Easedale kitten
Look away or you'll get bitten
Walk quickly through
But never run
Or the Easedale dog
Will bite yer bum.
NB

[freckle]

A few lines found in my sketchbook from 2003 while staying at Thorney How.

Easedale Farm

Never trust the Easedale kitten
Look away or you'll get bitten
Walk quickly through
But never run
Or the Easedale dog
Will bite yer bum.
NB

I liked this, were you at the Commondale Clart today? We had to drive through Easedale to get there and narrowly missed the start...I enjoyed the race and displayed the usual high level of athleticism one could expect from a time/training poor freckle! however i did enjoy the race and we seemed to have the best of todays weather for it!

[freckle]

Yep it was very clear today Harry and the low sun was in our eyes as we headed west from High Cup Nick.

Cue Winter Sun poem (though its not really about nature )

There's a certain Slant of light

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –

None may teach it – Any –
'Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –

When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –


Emily Dickinson

I am envious about High Cup Nick...such stunning scenery wish I could have been there! Sounds like you enjoyed it Alf...

There have been some great choices on here over the past couple of days, I really liked wormstones poem, it had a real sense of foreboding about it and was really quite slick, nice one!

[Nee Bother]

and after a close shave up above Easedale beck

Belles Knott Grade 2**

I climbed it quickly
the slippy crag
Another peak
in the bag
Looking back
way down the slope
Perhaps I should
have rought a rope
I never think
and act so cool
Some call me
The climbing fool
I hurtle down
being brave
Oops....
I've slipped
To an early grave.
NB

[Mountain Goatess]

You're a bit of a dark horse! You really are quite a poet! :thumbup:

and after a close shave up above Easedale beck

Belles Knott Grade 2**

I climbed it quickly
the slippy crag
Another peak
in the bag
Looking back
way down the slope
Perhaps I should
have rought a rope
I never think
and act so cool
Some call me
The climbing fool
I hurtle down
being brave
Oops....
I've slipped
To an early grave.
NB

[Nee Bother]

I liked this, were you at the Commondale Clart today? We had to drive through Easedale to get there and narrowly missed the start...I enjoyed the race and displayed the usual high level of athleticism one could expect from a time/training poor freckle! however i did enjoy the race and we seemed to have the best of todays weather for it!

Thanks, didn't do any racing today, tried a XC yesterday but was suffering from real ale thread!! Never done Clart before although know Commondale quite well, whats the race like?
(the Easedale I mentioned is the one in Lakes)

[freckle]

Thanks, didn't do any racing today, tried a XC yesterday but was suffering from real ale thread!! Never done Clart before although know Commondale quite well, whats the race like?
(the Easedale I mentioned is the one in Lakes)

Oh perhaps I am getting mixed up...its quite possible! I liked the race it was fairly short (6 miles) with only 600 ft ascent which for a woos like me is a nice change, although it was, like I say v boggy! ....I agree with MG you are quite the poet, keep it up as we are enjoying your offerings!

[Nee Bother]

You're a bit of a dark horse! You really are quite a poet! :thumbup:

Cheers MG

a silly one before bed

Purple Hedgehog Fungi
hiding under the bush.
Beware, not to touch it,
it will make you blush.
And if you ever ate it
your innards would
turn to mush.
NB

[Mossdog]

There are some weird and wonderfully obscure poetry sites out there on the high seas of the internet, and while surfing my eye was caught by one that seems to be particularly...er...,irreverent, as it's title suggests it's devoted to the F-word. Intrigued, but also resigned to the likelihood of hasty disappointment at a possibly neanderthal and banal anthology, I ventured in closer......And actually I found it's first offering quite uplifting and thought provoking. Anyway, see what you think, (sadly this forum's automated 'taste-police' has somewhat ****ed with the text, but let me assure you it isn't called the four asterisks !)


By Kim Addonizio She says, "My poem '****' was inspired by Tony Hoagland's 'Dickhead.' That poem closes – if memory serves – 'I made a word my friend.' **** and I have been close for lo these many years. At my funeral, I hope someone will stand up and say I was a great ****ing poet. And if not, that at least I was a great ****. The future of the '**** you' poem? Look for it under your bootsoles."



****

There are people who will tell you
that using the word **** in a poem
indicates a serious lapse
of taste, or imagination,

or both. It's vulgar,
indecorous, an obscenity
that crashes down like an anvil
falling through a skylight

to land on a restaurant table,
on the white linen, the cut-glass vase of lilacs.
But if you were sitting
over coffee when the metal

hit your saucer like a missile,
wouldn't that be the first thing
you'd say? Wouldn't you leap back
shouting, or at least thinking it,

over and over, bell-note riotously clanging
in the church of your brain
while the solicitous waiter
led you away, wouldn't you prop

your shaking elbows on the bar
and order your first drink in months,
telling yourself you were lucky
to be alive? And if you wouldn't

say anything but Mercy or Oh my
or Land sakes, well then
I don't want to know you anyway
and I don't give a **** what you think

of my poem. The world is divided
into those whose opinions matter
and those who will never have
a clue, and if you knew

which one you were I could talk
to you, and tell you that sometimes
there's only one word that means
what you need it to mean, the way

there's only one person
when you first fall in love,
or one infant's cry that calls forth
the burning milk, one name

that you pray to when prayer
is what's left to you. I'm saying
in the beginning was the word
and it was good, it meant one human

entering another and it's still
what I love, the word made
flesh. **** me, I say to the one
whose lovely body I want close,

and as we **** I know it's holy,
a psalm, a hymn, a hammer
ringing down on an anvil,
forging a whole new world.