Today's poet

[Alf]

Night

The crackling embers on the hearth are dead;
The indoor note of industry is still;
The latch is fast; upon the window-sill
The small birds wait not for their daily bread;
The voiceless flowers--how quietly they shed
Their nightly odours;--and the household rill
Murmurs continuous dulcet sounds that fill
The vacant expectation, and the dread
Of listening night. And haply now She sleeps;
For all the garrulous noises of the air
Are hush'd in peace; the soft dew silent weeps,
Like hopeless lovers for a maid so fair:--
Oh! that I were the happy dream that creeps
To her soft heart, to find my image there.

Hartley Coleridge

Goodnight fell poets everywhere

[Hes]

I've just seen it Steve...I thought I ought to check out what you and Stolly were on about at the Three Peaks...it made me laugh a lot but I'm not convinced about my likeness to Doris!

Very true MG.

As always some great stuff on here.

Speaking of Fuzz, Hes, you must watch Hot Fuzz

[Hes]

Two very nice posts from Alf and MG. Night all.x

[OneOffPoet]

Hello poets :-)

Been lurking for ages and enjoying the thread loads but haven't had the time or inspiration to write. I thought I was going off poetry somehow. Anyhow, I start a new job today and arrived an hour early! So a coffee in McDs, opposite a huge grand looking library and a newspaper full of stories about cuts inspired this, which just came out into my notebook. Whether it's any good or not, it's just lovely to be writing again :-)

Please don't close my library.


Please don't close my library
Even though I never go
It's part and parcel of the high street
A little part of the world I know
I haven't been since I was thirteen
When you could borrow VHS
And read the local paper
Snuggled in the fustiness
And people-watch with interest
The loiterers and those with lists
Those coming in for a book, others for a look
Some for a chat, to live and commune
Almost as if this was their living room
Because despite the odd shhh, this is
A lovely indoor place to be and to see
What is going on, unlike that lonely lounge back home
How lucky and yet so natural that society gave a
Place to loiter and roam and not to be alone
Or to nose around at the habits of others
For a laugh or unusual amount of interest
It's not an asset, to 'sweat' or 'manage'
It's a place, born out of how we've come to live
So please don't close my library
Just to save a few quid

[freckle]

Hello poets :-)

Been lurking for ages and enjoying the thread loads but haven't had the time or inspiration to write. I thought I was going off poetry somehow. Anyhow, I start a new job today and arrived an hour early! So a coffee in McDs, opposite a huge grand looking library and a newspaper full of stories about cuts inspired this, which just came out into my notebook. Whether it's any good or not, it's just lovely to be writing again :-)

Please don't close my library.


Please don't close my library
Even though I never go
It's part and parcel of the high street
A little part of the world I know
I haven't been since I was thirteen
When you could borrow VHS
And read the local paper
Snuggled in the fustiness
And people-watch with interest
The loiterers and those with lists
Those coming in for a book, others for a look
Some for a chat, to live and commune
Almost as if this was their living room
Because despite the odd shhh, this is
A lovely indoor place to be and to see
What is going on, unlike that lonely lounge back home
How lucky and yet so natural that society gave a
Place to loiter and roam and not to be alone
Or to nose around at the habits of others
For a laugh or unusual amount of interest
It's not an asset, to 'sweat' or 'manage'
It's a place, born out of how we've come to live
So please don't close my library
Just to save a few quid

I really enjoyed this One Off and totally agree with the sentiment, I think it would be an absolute travesty if they shut local libraries...i have so many fond memories of pottering around in them as a child and being able to ask librarians advice etc, having said that I really should make the effort to go more with my children to support the library...Mmmm a good idea for tomorrow I think!...anyhoo thanks for posting such a lovely poem and hope you enjoy the new job

[freckle]

Night

The crackling embers on the hearth are dead;
The indoor note of industry is still;
The latch is fast; upon the window-sill
The small birds wait not for their daily bread;
The voiceless flowers--how quietly they shed
Their nightly odours;--and the household rill
Murmurs continuous dulcet sounds that fill
The vacant expectation, and the dread
Of listening night. And haply now She sleeps;
For all the garrulous noises of the air
Are hush'd in peace; the soft dew silent weeps,
Like hopeless lovers for a maid so fair:--
Oh! that I were the happy dream that creeps
To her soft heart, to find my image there.

Hartley Coleridge

Goodnight fell poets everywhere

Beautiful Alf especially .....

"The vacant expectation, and the dread
Of listening night".....and

"Oh! that I were the happy dream that creeps
To her soft heart, to find my image there".....

MG I liked the making the effort poem...hoping to do so myself this morning with a six miler, fingers crossed! failing that there is always the parents race at school's sports day. might be the only race I ever win!

welcome back Nee Bother...and Hes that e e cummings is one of my faves too, nowt wrong with a bit of sauce!

[freckle]

Absence
Carol Anny Duffy

Then the birds stitching the dawn with their song
Have patterned your name.

Then the green bowl of the garden filling with light
is your gaze.

Then the lawn lengthening and warming itself
Is your skin.

Then a cloud disclosing itself overhead
Is your opening hand.

Then the first seven bells from the church
Pine on the air.

Then the sun’s soft bite on my face
Is your mouth.

Then a bee in a rose is your fingertip
Touching me here.

Then the trees bending and meshing their leaves
are what we do.

Then my steps to the river are text to the river
Printing the ground.

Then the river searching its bank for your shape
Is desire.

Then a fish nuzzling the water’s throat
Has a lover’s ease.

Then a shawl of sunlight dropped in the grass
Is a garment discarded.

Then a sudden scatter of summer rain
Is your tongue.

Then a butterfly paused on a trembling leaf
Is your breath.

Then the gauzy mist relaxed on the ground
Is your pose.

Then the fruit falling from the cherry tree, is your kiss
Your kiss.

Then the day’s hours are theatres of air
Where I watch you entranced.

Then the sun’s light going down from the sky
Is the length of your back.

Then the evening bells over the rooftops
Are lovers’ vows.

Then the river staring up, lovesick for the moon
Is my long night.

Then the stars between us are love
Urging its light.

[Hes]

That is a totally lush poem choice Freckle. I love it!

Absence
Carol Anny Duffy

Then the birds stitching the dawn with their song
Have patterned your name.

Then the green bowl of the garden filling with light
is your gaze.

Then the lawn lengthening and warming itself
Is your skin.

Then a cloud disclosing itself overhead
Is your opening hand.

Then the first seven bells from the church
Pine on the air.

Then the sun’s soft bite on my face
Is your mouth.

Then a bee in a rose is your fingertip
Touching me here.

Then the trees bending and meshing their leaves
are what we do.

Then my steps to the river are text to the river
Printing the ground.

Then the river searching its bank for your shape
Is desire.

Then a fish nuzzling the water’s throat
Has a lover’s ease.

Then a shawl of sunlight dropped in the grass
Is a garment discarded.

Then a sudden scatter of summer rain
Is your tongue.

Then a butterfly paused on a trembling leaf
Is your breath.

Then the gauzy mist relaxed on the ground
Is your pose.

Then the fruit falling from the cherry tree, is your kiss
Your kiss.

Then the day’s hours are theatres of air
Where I watch you entranced.

Then the sun’s light going down from the sky
Is the length of your back.

Then the evening bells over the rooftops
Are lovers’ vows.

Then the river staring up, lovesick for the moon
Is my long night.

Then the stars between us are love
Urging its light.

[Hes]

Having been a part-time librarian in a former incarnation (albeit in a dance college and not a public library) I have very strong feelings about libraries and the right to the easy access to knowledge, entertainment and education that they offer everyone, regardless of income. I use the Ripon library rather sporadically but would struggle with aspects of my work if it were to close. It is also a great social hub, particularly for the elderly, and has welcoming and helpful staff.

Thanks for this OneOff.

Hello poets :-)

Been lurking for ages and enjoying the thread loads but haven't had the time or inspiration to write. I thought I was going off poetry somehow. Anyhow, I start a new job today and arrived an hour early! So a coffee in McDs, opposite a huge grand looking library and a newspaper full of stories about cuts inspired this, which just came out into my notebook. Whether it's any good or not, it's just lovely to be writing again :-)

Please don't close my library.


Please don't close my library
Even though I never go
It's part and parcel of the high street
A little part of the world I know
I haven't been since I was thirteen
When you could borrow VHS
And read the local paper
Snuggled in the fustiness
And people-watch with interest
The loiterers and those with lists
Those coming in for a book, others for a look
Some for a chat, to live and commune
Almost as if this was their living room
Because despite the odd shhh, this is
A lovely indoor place to be and to see
What is going on, unlike that lonely lounge back home
How lucky and yet so natural that society gave a
Place to loiter and roam and not to be alone
Or to nose around at the habits of others
For a laugh or unusual amount of interest
It's not an asset, to 'sweat' or 'manage'
It's a place, born out of how we've come to live
So please don't close my library
Just to save a few quid

[Nee Bother]

Thoughts,
of a kiss
a hug
a smile.

Thoughts,
of your touch
your scent
your skin.

Thoughts,
of tenderness
of love
of you.

Thoughts......