poetry corner

Discussion in 'Macclesfield' started by x, Jan 31, 2011.

  1. x

    x Well-Known Member

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    they call me zak from macc
    even with my dodgy back
    and heaven knows
    home is a place called moss rose
     
    #1
    Scan likes this.
  2. mrs em

    mrs em Member

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    very good
     
    #2
  3. grumpygit

    grumpygit les misérable

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    Well if this site is anything to go by, I won't be expecting many away fans on Saturday.:emoticon-0107-sweat
     
    #3
  4. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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    #4
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  5. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  6. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  7. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  8. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  9. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  10. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  11. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  12. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  13. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  14. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  15. Saints_Alive

    Saints_Alive Well-Known Member

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  16. Scan

    Scan Well-Known Member

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    #16
  17. PompeyLapras

    PompeyLapras Well-Known Member

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    My favourite ever poem:

    The sparrow dips in his wheel-rut bath,
    The sun grows passionate-eyed,
    And boils the dew to smoke by the paddock-path;
    As strenuously we stride, —
    Five of us; dark He, fair He, dark She, fair She, I,
    All beating by.

    The air is shaken, the high-road hot,
    Shadowless swoons the day,
    The greens are sobered and cattle at rest; but not
    We on our urgent way, —
    Four of us; fair She, dark She, fair He, I, are there,
    But one - elsewhere.

    Autumn moulds the hard fruit mellow,
    And forward still we press
    Through moors, briar-meshed plantations, clay-pits yellow,
    As in the spring hours - yes,
    Three of us; fair He, fair She, I, as heretofore,
    But - fallen one more.

    The leaf drops: earthworms draw it in
    At night-time noiselessly,
    The fingers of birch and beech are skeleton-thin
    And yet on the beat are we, —
    Two of us; fair She, I. But no more left to go
    The track we know.

    Icicles tag the church-aisle leads,
    The flag-rope gibbers hoarse,
    The home-bound foot-folk wrap their snow-flaked heads,
    Yet I still stalk the course —
    One of us..... Dark and fair He, dark and fair She, gone:
    The rest - anon.
     
    #17
  18. Archers Road

    Archers Road Urban Spaceman

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    Those - dying then,
    knew where they went-
    They went to God's right hand-
    That hand is amputated now
    And God cannot be found-

    The abdication of Belief
    Makes the Behaviour small-
    Better an ignis fatous
    Than no illume at all-


    Emily Dickinson
     
    #18
  19. Wooperts_duck

    Wooperts_duck Well-Known Member

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    Here I Sit Broken Hearted

    Paid a Penny, and Only Farted.....
     
    #19
  20. BlackCatRoo

    BlackCatRoo Active Member

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