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Littlestone 5386 posts |
May 02, 2006, 22:08
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Small and fleeting, hidden away down leafy lanes, poetry was spoken to a few rather than many, or it starred briefly in a crowd before moving on. But I like to think some of it will linger. A lot of poetry books left the shelves and I imagine the poems now, still flying around someone between Norton Malreward and Chew Magna, going at dusk up Gibbet Lane and crossing Pagan Hill to find the stones at Stanton Drew. Words pattering like rain in the leaves. Rose Flint http://www.poetrysociety.org.uk/places/mob1.htm#Top
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
May 05, 2006, 20:27
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morfe, may I have your permission to use your photo <b>A fallen giant</b> to accompany a poem by Rose Flint (above) on the Meg' Poems blog? If I may, what name should I use for the credit image?
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Edited Sep 29, 2010, 08:48
May 17, 2006, 22:08
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JC's poem, In dedication. From the hunter, is now up on - http://megalithicpoems.blogspot.com/2006/05/in-dedication-from-hunter.html Hope you like the illustration that accompanies it (it's not easy to find an illustration with something resembling a gusset in it ;-)
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moss 2897 posts |
May 18, 2006, 07:58
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Which reminded me, there is a poem about Lugbury Longbarrow, and also Odin, at this site; http://www.handstones.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/yewtree/poetry/lugbury.htm. Lugbury is interesting apart from it being a barrow, Lugh/Lleu is an old celtic god, and Nettleton Shrub an early native British/roman temple site is nearby....
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adastra 3 posts |
May 18, 2006, 09:03
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Hi Littlstone, I really love this poem but shouldn't it read as '...somewhere between..', not '...someone between...' ? :-) ftc
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:29
May 18, 2006, 09:23
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Thanks moss, that's a gem and duly added to stack. Lugbury The stones are a doorway to the beyond Where a single flame burns in the darkness. Further in, a bonfire calling the sun: The sun in splendour, behind a round hill Embracing the moon, in love's ecstasy Her tongues of fire, his shadow-tendrils The radiant stones embrace all comers: The hooded ones wait, holding the sacred, Dreaming of the land; their wisdom enfolds and holds the valley, keeping its secrets. Bramble and elder twining together Guard the mound's entrance. As we walk away The waters of sleep close over the mound. Yvonne Aburrow
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
May 18, 2006, 09:26
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>I really love this poem but shouldn't it read as '...somewhere between..', not '...someone between...' ?< Yes, I thought that as well ftc. It was copied directly from Rose's website but I'll go back and check.
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
May 18, 2006, 09:54
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Littlestone, this thread is getting longer than a lizard's tail. Would a second one be good, like the Stone Shifting threads? (If so, maybe headings comprising the author or title? I hesitate to add stuff in case its a repeat).
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
May 18, 2006, 10:32
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>...this thread is getting longer than a lizard's tail.< Chuckle... For clarity and reference you're definitely right about posting new poems with headings comprising author or title and I've started doing that with the most recent posts. So, for new posts, maybe folks could do that - head the post with the poet's name or poem's title (or both if necessary) - thanks. >I hesitate to add stuff in case it's a repeat...< Anything folks are not sure about (or just prefer to remain anonymous) can be sent to me directly (littlestone at supanet dot com) and I'll check it out in the Stack before reposting it.
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phoenix 16 posts |
May 20, 2006, 19:31
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Hardy, 1898, Nature,s questioning. When I look forth at dawning, pool, field, flock, and lonely tree, All seem to gaze at me Like chastened children sitting silent in a school; Their faces dulled, constrained, and worn, As though the master's ways Through the long teaching days Had cowed them till their early zest was overborne. Upon them stirs in lippings mere ( As if once clear in call, But now scarce breathed at all )- " We wonder, ever wonder, why we find us here! " Has some vast Imbecility, Mighty to build and blend, But impotent to tend' Framed us in jest, and left us now to hazardry? " Or come we of an Automaton Unconscious of our pains?... Or are we live remains Of Godhead dying downwards, brain and eye now gone? "Or is it that some high plan betides, As yet not understood, Of evil stormed by good, We the forlorn hope over which achievements strides ?" Thus things around. No answer I... Meanwhile the winds, and rains, And Earth's old glooms and pains Are still the same, and life and death are neighbours nigh. Phoenix
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