So good that you are back Freckle...you've posted some great poems.xx
So good that you are back Freckle...you've posted some great poems.xx
aw shucks xxxOriginally Posted by Hes
For a long time I've just had my head down working but the last week or so has been a bit less intense and I've been enjoying such things as watching the fledgling swallows being fed just outside my bedroom window and today I stopped my bike ride to watch two barn owls hunting on the common:
Leisure
WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
W. H. Davies
this poem brings back happy memories for me, my mum used to recite it to me as a child, thanks for posting hes! I'm glad you have had time to pause from the hectic pace of life, I too am holding onto the calmness I have felt after having a substantial break away from work, so far so good, mind you I have only been back one day! :w00t:
well off to read a book in bed now so night all! x
Night Freckle. hope you can keep hold of that calm.xx
i have just discovered julia copus...and what a wonderful feeling such a discovery is.....just like the old times.....
A Short History of Desire
Julia Copus
On a day like today, I think I can almost
begin to make sense of those chivalrous knights
who, on the whim of some titian-haired damsel,
would set off on horseback, although they were barely
out of their teens, in pursuit of some noble
improbable task, while a sun much like this one
strobed through the trees and the left-behind girl
perfected the art of the meaningful wait —
the curve of her breasts and her full lips so pleasingly
matching the line of the coiled anaconda
thickly entwined like a creeper about
her chiffon-swathed hips, the nub of its head
reclining over her naked shoulder.
As naked, that is, as the thigh of the fabled
Victorian gent (beneath the folds
of his peg-top pants) who, perched on a horsehair
chair in the parlour, would catch a glimpse
of his lady-love's finely-turned ankle and feel
the strain of his flesh at the seam of his button-up
fly; was suddenly, keenly, aware
of the fervour of light, how it filled up a room
on a day like today, how it tugged at his blood,
and glanced off the edge of her silver-plate buckle
the way in the Fifties it glanced off the fenders
of a thousand parked-up Morris Minors
under the moon when the sweetest of girls
might take off her clothes on a day like today
to the radio's chanting — alop-bam-boom —
and lie back like a leaf-bud splitting
open across someone's trembling lap as if
just then a knife had been touched to her skin.
However deep asleep you think you are,
there always will be days like this —
a light, hair-tousling breeze and a sun that streams
into the dusty parlour of your heart.
Pray when it does that your heart, out cold
for the winter, stirs in its stockpile of leaves.
Or else, that you're caught off guard by the quickening
thump of your hoof-beat heart returning
from very far off: pray then for the stoutness of heart
to ride with it headlong into a poem like this one
where some part of everything never stops moving
under the light of that big old heart, the moon;
where even the moon up there in its ocean
of sky is afloat, and trembles with longing.
"perfected the art of the meaningful wait "
Yes good poem that freckle how did you discover her?
Absence. { The Black Dog Wars.}
Why do i hide from public view,
Heart pounding always in pain,
Want to talk be with all of you,
Afraid at times i'd never write again.
A year has taken its toll on me,
An abyss i've climbed out of once more,
Desperate to share to be free,
I want to feel the friendship i did once before.
Bipolar Boy.
I can't quite recall, think it was via "Being Human", been browsing the net and nearly wept when i listened to her recital of the poem "The Backseat of my Mothers Car" which tells the tale of a daughter seperating from her father, its written in specular form, a form she developed in her first book and which involves the same lines being used front to back in a poem, worth a listen rather than just read...."perfected the art of the meaningful wait "
Yes good poem that freckle how did you discover her?
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetrya...o?poemId=13532
oh...and not sure that i am good at the "meaningful wait" at all!
Last edited by freckle; 16-08-2011 at 09:59 PM.
a heartfelt poem, i reckon a few of us have been climbing this year! its good to have you back !
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