A poem

Glad you are having a lovely day.

Just found this, ffin. Happy Birthday! Glad to hear you've had a brilliant day. here's to a very happy year ahead.

Thank you soop! Brilliant day.

Your photos are lovely, particularly the one of a dramatic cloud burst.

https://www.gransnet.com/uploads/talk/201310/medium-9363-pa190290.jpg https://www.gransnet.com/uploads/talk/201310/medium-9266-pa200297-001.jpg https://www.gransnet.com/uploads/talk/201310/medium-7752-pa200304.jpg

A very happy birthday to you, ffinnochio Your poem is beautiful.

Thanks for good wishes.
My birthday is actually today, but wrote that last night for a bit of cheer to celebrate my 63rd year!

Happy birthday ffin to a fellow Libran

Ah, it's your birthday ffinnochio! I hope you've had an enjoyable day. Many happy returns

Happy birthday, ffin. That is a beautiful poem, so full of textures.

..and heb (posts crossed)

Sorry I spelt your name wrong

Cheers, dusty.

finocchio A very happy birthday to you, you have brightened my evening with your beautiful poem Thank You

Well, Happy Birthday ffinn.!
I'm lurking tonight ,trying to catch up with GN. And one ear on family's comments on television.
Liked the poem, you paint a beautiful picture.

Whatever it is my world is patched from
Quilts of blood-and-orange leaves
Birch bark peelings silver at dusk
Water shimmering with spinning stars
Wind-rush-rushing through light and shade.

Whatever it is my world is knit from
A gentle touch will do
For another year.

A birthday poem to myself

Like it ffin

I can see it and feel it, ffin. Lovely.

Sitting outside on the bench

1. Sky to the west thin white,
streaked with mercury.

2. Air rain washed,
pale and cool to the skin.

3. No sound, silent.
All around is still.

4. The sky skin changes and
I wander inside.

5. October evening

Today's poem is written by Morgan Downie and lists the natural hues of the landscape. This is from his debut collection, Stone and Sea...

colour the water landscape

abundant grey
rain impending
sheeted blue
across the hills

blue where it touches
the sea, charcoal
the line of the horizon
the waves uneasy, gunmetal

green the drenched fields
trees irised with moisture
upturned soil ochres the ground
the distant hills, heavy lidded, indigo

here the white water falling
free from the stain of peat
each drop a jewel
as if the granite itself
could weep quartz

------------------------------------------------------------------------

POEM : The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt



POEM :


Will you walk into my parlour?' said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there.'
Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, 'to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again.'

'I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?' said the Spider to the Fly.
'There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!'
Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, 'for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!'

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, ' Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?'
'Oh no, no,' said the little Fly, 'kind Sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!'

'Sweet creature!' said the Spider, 'you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.'
'I thank you, gentle sir,' she said, 'for what you 're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day.'

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
'Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!'

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --
Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

Beautiful poems, I think I'm going to have to start printing this thread out.

I'm so pleased to hear that you like the poems

As imperceptibly as Grief......^Emily Dickinson^ 1830-1886

As imperceptibly as Grief
The summer lapsed away -
Too imperceptible at last,
To seem like Perfidy -
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon -
The Dusk drew earlier in -
The Morning foreign shone -
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest that would be gone -
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.

It is a lovely poem. But I think the operative word there is lonely . I love man over nature. Not the other way about.

soop The Peace of Wild Things is a beautiful poem. one that I've not heard before. Thank you for sharing it

Soop - I have asked that the Wedell Berry be read at my funeral and the last line be my epitaph. It is a splendid poem.