Today's poet

[Hes]

The Rider
By Naomi Shihab Nye

A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heard
for trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonight
pedaling hard down King William Street
is if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your loneliness
panting behind you on some street corner
while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,
pink petals that have never felt loneliness,
no matter how slowly they fell.

[freckle]

I read this poem on here the other night Alf and I loved it but was too tired to log in and say so, so I'm saying it now! I especially like the verse that you highlighted. We are in the midst of Masham Arts Festival here and on thursday it is poems and a pint night. I am going to take some of my favourite poems to read but am wondering if I have enough courage to read out one of my own (maybe I can say it was by a 'friend').

YOu must! let us know how you get on ! :-) x

[Hes]

To a Wild Rose
By Todd Boss

It’s true, what all our
heroes say. There is a way
in this world for beauty,
for good. It may
be a crooked path
in a tanglewood, but
stay the course and,
when the way grows rocky,
walk your horse,

and who knows, you may yet
come upon the wild rose,
as I have done, and,
paying close attention,
keep from crushing her into
the grime, and then,
with any luck, in time
remember how you found her
and how to find her again
when the way gets wilder.

[Stef F]

I really enjoyed reading this stef, you grandma sounds like she was someone who brought a touch of magic and wonderment to those around her and I love the thought that she might finally be reconciled with her love...very moving, thank you for posting

Thank's Freckle. She used to love to talk, especially with young people and students; she and would chat with them on long train journeys.

Sadly she was too old and confused by the time I was old enough to really get to know her. When she was in the nursing home she once referred to me as 'that nice lady'!

[Stef F]

I agree with Freckle Stef, its lovely that you've immortalised her in words and shared your memories with us.

We are in the midst of Masham Arts Festival here and on thursday it is poems and a pint night. I am going to take some of my favourite poems to read but am wondering if I have enough courage to read out one of my own (maybe I can say it was by a 'friend').

Thanks Hes

It is definitely a treat to hear poetry read by the author; you should definitely read your own work. Courage, and good luck

[OneOffPoet]

My my it's been a long while! Hope you're all well. Ive been away from the forum and from poetry for ages - life getting in the way as usual. It's ironic that life is the fuel for poetry and yet busy and changing times often leave little time for it.

It's not quite rememberance day yet, but near enough for this to provide a different slant on it

Boxes

There’s a woman who keeps things in boxes
Keepsakes, mostly of her kids
There are photos of gap-toothed boys and girls
There are paintings and drawings they did

There are trophies, and ribbons
An old newspaper clip of a young bride
There are piles of old valentines cards
‘I Love You’ is written inside

There’s a hat, something borrowed
There’s a veil, something new
There’s a bible, something old
There’s a letter, something blue

There’s a letter, something blue
Came on a day that turned black
A grateful nation informs you
Your first lieutenant is not coming back

There are valentines cards, and valentines cards…..
Some flowers carefully dried
There are valentines cards, and valentines cards…..
‘I Love You’ is written inside

[stevefoster]

I agree with Freckle Stef, its lovely that you've immortalised her in words and shared your memories with us.

I agree too, lovely poem Stef, still miss my gran even today.

[Stef F]

To a Wild Rose
By Todd Boss

It’s true, what all our
heroes say. There is a way
in this world for beauty,
for good. It may
be a crooked path
in a tanglewood, but
stay the course and,
when the way grows rocky,
walk your horse,

and who knows, you may yet
come upon the wild rose,
as I have done, and,
paying close attention,
keep from crushing her into
the grime, and then,
with any luck, in time
remember how you found her
and how to find her again
when the way gets wilder.

This is a lovey poem Hes

[Stef F]

My my it's been a long while! Hope you're all well. Ive been away from the forum and from poetry for ages - life getting in the way as usual. It's ironic that life is the fuel for poetry and yet busy and changing times often leave little time for it.

It's not quite rememberance day yet, but near enough for this to provide a different slant on it

Boxes

There’s a woman who keeps things in boxes
Keepsakes, mostly of her kids
There are photos of gap-toothed boys and girls
There are paintings and drawings they did

There are trophies, and ribbons
An old newspaper clip of a young bride
There are piles of old valentines cards
‘I Love You’ is written inside

There’s a hat, something borrowed
There’s a veil, something new
There’s a bible, something old
There’s a letter, something blue

There’s a letter, something blue
Came on a day that turned black
A grateful nation informs you
Your first lieutenant is not coming back

There are valentines cards, and valentines cards…..
Some flowers carefully dried
There are valentines cards, and valentines cards…..
‘I Love You’ is written inside

This drew a tear!

[Stef F]

I agree too, lovely poem Stef, still miss my gran even today.

Thanks Steve. It's good to miss special folks now and then I think, even if it does feel a little sad.