Today's poet

[stevefoster]

Bald runner passes,
Lamb baa's for mum,
Mum, lamb and baldy, fun in the sun:thumbup:

[Grouse]

Singin' in the rain
What a glorious feeling!
I'm happy again.

[freckle]

I have really enjoyed the recent haiku steve you are on a roll and grouse...what can I say?

I have come to the conclusion that I can't fit everything into my hectic life, after consistently training for the edinburgh marathon now that it is all over i have realised that my flat is in desperate need of decoration and so my mileage is way down. Never mind there are some bonuses...

memories of 26.2 fade
DIY tasks call
tile paint the new high

[stevefoster]

In a low,
Need a lift
Paint yourself a new life

[freckle]

In a low,
Need a lift
Paint yourself a new life

thats uncanny...i think you read my mind! :-)

[Alf]

Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it—he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

[Alf]

For those climbers who lost their lives in the avalanche near Chamonix.

Shelley was comparing human imagination with the grandeur of Mont Blanc but it is also man's imagination that makes them want to climb a mountain.

MONT BLANC: LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI

I

The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters--with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.


PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

[Mossdog]

For those climbers who lost their lives in the avalanche near Chamonix.

Shelley was comparing human imagination with the grandeur of Mont Blanc but it is also man's imagination that makes them want to climb a mountain.

MONT BLANC: LINES WRITTEN IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI

I

The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters--with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.


PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Great choice Alf. Really appropriate and well said.

[Stolly]

Apologies to Rudyard. Nicked from the 'To Bob or not to Bob' thread

If you can find Ill Crag when all about you
Are losing it in the clag and blaming it on you
If you can go for it when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too
If you can not fanny about and not be tired by running
Or being slowed down, eating too many pies
Or being knackered, don't give way to legs cramping
And yet don't look too good, or never ever walk downwise

If you can dream of sub 24 hours - and not make dreams your master
If you can think of Moot Hall - and make not spewing up your aim
If you can meet with Scafell and Blencathra
And treat those two impostors just the same
If you can bear to hear the rubbish you've spoken
Twisted by pacers to have a laugh with the mules
Or watch your Walshes, you gave Pete Bland sixty quid for, broken
And stoop and gaffer 'em up, using worn-out tools

If you can make a fricking good go of 42 peak grabbings
And risk going for it one night and not give a toss
And lose first time, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word (apart from on the FRA forum) about your loss
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your Bob Graham Round long after they are gone
And so hold on when, other than jelly babies, there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them “Don’t chuck up and hold on"

If you can walk up Yewbarrow and keep your jam sandwich down
Or run down Seat Sandal and not fall head over heels too much
If neither Bowfell nor Dollywaggon Pike can make you groan
If at least one witness counts peaks with you, and keeps in touch
If you can fill every unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of flipping boulders, bogs, rubble and still run
Yours is the Bob Graham Round and everything that's in it
And - which is more - you'll be a right pain in the arse, my son!

[freckle]

Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it—he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

i love that first line...lift not the painted veil...his technique is awe inspiring