"O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." - Hamlet Act II scene ii
22 September 2012
12 comments:
Mr Pudding welcomes all genuine comments - even those with which he disagrees. However, puerile or abusive comments from anonymous contributors will continue to be given the short shrift they deserve. Any spam comments that get through Google/Blogger defences will also be quickly deleted.
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Last night, we lay down on sunbeds and watched Mrs Moon rise like a tangerine over The Aegean Sea. To capture the beauty of the scene fa...
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Chavs being chavvish. Just the other day, I spotted a male "chav" down by the local Methodist church. He was wearing a Burberrry ...
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So there I was standing in the kitchen of our son's terraced house. Something caught my eye outside in his little urban garden. It was a...
I really like this poem and the photograph that accompanies it. I also like that I learned two new words, curlew and clough, both of which seemed, after I looked them up in a dictionary, distinctly European. Two bloomings helped also (here in the colonies we do not distinguish between England and Europe). Curlew looked similar to, but is absolutely nothing like, curfew. And the only Clough I had heard of heretofore was Arthur Hugh. None of this is meant as a criticism.
ReplyDeleteI really like this poem and the photograph that accompanies it. I also like that I learned two new words, curlew and clough, both of which seemed, after I looked them up in a dictionary, distinctly European. Two bloomings helped also (here in the colonies we do not distinguish between England and Europe). Curlew looked similar to, but is absolutely nothing like, curfew. And the only Clough I had heard of heretofore was Arthur Hugh. None of this is meant as a criticism.
ReplyDeleteRHYMES WITH... Thank you for giving my poem some careful thought but I got you the first time. You didn't need to say it twice!
ReplyDeleteCan we take a flask?
ReplyDeleteLIBBY Not just a flask. A mobile phone, compass, map, survival bag, gloves, woolly hat, Kendal mintcake,camera, GPS beacon, notepad, pencil, a change of clothes, lucky charms, sandwiches, St Bernard dog with small barrel of brandy round neck, Tolstoy's "War and Peace", mouthorgan, whistle, a couple of flares... You should be okay then.
ReplyDeletelike I already said
ReplyDelete"I hate autumn"
The mountains glow from within
ReplyDeleteTo shake the summer’s dense heat
And autumn’s golden leaves.
There are sounds and smells and slight movements of wings
To take your heart away
And bring it back again.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful poem. With spring well on the way, and me 3 kg lighter than I was this time last week (due to the inspiration of the Horizon programme "Eat, Fast and Live Longer") I am now even more determined to do some tramping this summer.
ReplyDeleteHigh Country Weather
Alone we are born
And die alone;
Yet see the red-gold cirrus
Over snow mountain shine.
Along the upland road
Ride easy, stranger:
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.
- James K Baxter
EARL GRAY If I lived in North Wales I might come to hate autumn too...and the other three seasons.
ReplyDeleteKATHERINE & MOUNTAIN THYME Thank you for your poetic inputs. I'm pleased that my poem stirred words in you too.
Yessssss! (not very poetic, I know, but you sum up my feelings exactly.)
ReplyDeleteThank you for noticing that I hadn't blogged for a while!
I also enjoyed your poem YP. Very meaningful - Dave
ReplyDelete