31 July 2019
33 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... -
Chavs being chavvish. Just the other day, I spotted a male "chav" down by the local Methodist church. He was wearing a Burberrry ... -
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...
Love it.
ReplyDeleteBrionyx
Thank you Briony.
DeleteThis made me smile. I've known my home nearly 40. It's a nice feeling.
ReplyDeleteThere is a lot to be said for belonging somewhere even though I quite enjoy "Escape to the Country".
DeleteIt should be "Escape from THIS country!" The way it's going.......
DeleteI like this. I don't walk at night (or any time, really) but on the occasions I'm out in them, I find a kind of magic in the quiet early morning streets.
ReplyDeleteHow lovely to see a fox
At night a neighbourhood is much changed.
DeleteStalking the streets! You'd have the neighbourhood watch onto you in Walkington.
ReplyDeleteI move invisibly - like a shadow.
DeleteDo you really go stalking the streets in the middle of the night?
ReplyDeleteOccasionally - yes.
DeleteThe peace and quiet of a night...a sigh of relief.
ReplyDeleteOne's senses are more alert at night.
DeleteThe feelings your poem evokes I can relate to.
ReplyDeleteWhen I return from O.K.'s on a Sunday night at around 11 pm, the 10 minute walk from the station to my house is also through quiet roads, and I look at the houses with mostly dark windows and think of how good a place to live my home town can be.
Night brings a different perspective.
DeleteI like this poem. Gregg and I walk around our new neighborhood every night with the dogs, just after dark. And coincidentally, owls live here and we often hear them calling back and forth when we're out walking or sitting on the back porch at night.
ReplyDeleteIn England, the term "night owl" is applied to people who stay up late. Morning people are known as larks.
DeleteThat's true here, too. But we think about "our" owls every night. Sometimes we could swear they're hooting "hello!" at us.
DeleteWas it Fred? Or, maybe his offspring.......
ReplyDeleteFred died but I would like to think that he knew that scraggy fox. He may have even been the father.
DeleteI like to walk at dusk in the summertime because it's cooler then. But I do think about the coyotes who have been spotted in town. And I try to avoid the deer and the skunks and raccoons. That reminds me, maybe I should carry a big stick.
ReplyDeleteBut I wish I was more comfortable walking after dark, because it's quite a special time, not least because of the lack of daytime noise, as you wrote.
I like your poem. I thought perhaps it was going to be on the Poetry Monday topic of the week - the moon. Can I sue for misleading photographic advertising?
Yes you may sue Jenny but I should warn you that getting money out of a Yorkshireman is like getting a procrastinating donkey to dance an Irish jig.
DeleteYes, I like poems that set a mood.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading it Red.
DeleteI love this. I also love the peace of 2:00 or 3:00 am.
ReplyDeleteYou must be a night owl too Bonnie.
DeleteAha! So, it's you stalking in the white truck!! I should have known!!!
ReplyDeleteGo to bed!!!!
Well done...a descriptive poem, Yorkie. :)
My mother was also a night owl - often staying up into the early hours on craft projects. She made gloves and lampshades and wove baskets and knitted sweaters. I have never been one for an early night.
DeleteQuite often - very often - I am a night owl, too....but I don't go roaming around outside! I scare the natives enough as it is during the daylight hours, without terrifying them at night!
DeleteYou should wear a rubber wolf mask - then they wouldn't be so terrified.
DeleteFor some obscure reason the poem, which I enjoyed thoroughly, reminded me of 'Adelstrop' mixed with some WH Davies. I know there is no logic to that but, then, poetry is not a logical process for me.
ReplyDeleteThe writing of poetry is not logical either. It's about notions and feelings and half-remembered moments. Thanks for reading this one Graham.
DeleteExcellent imagery. I love a good night walk, though I don't do much of it in London.
ReplyDelete