You and Me at Glastonbury

[Richard]

You and Me At Glastonbury

You took me... for a country walk
soon after we met. Muddy track!
Usually, before I would baulk;
with you, there was no turning back.
I felt self-conscious, you were young
no wrinkles blemished your skin.
I swore we’d never come undone
nor ever go, out; on a limb.


Wow! Things we've done, Spandella’d been.
Fun, fucking fun! Our magic way
through, false dawns, sunsets tangerine
home for Glaston fields longest day.
Happy; To be, happy. Above!
Our hearts fly free in rainbow bands
of dancing gems. We gods in love
bonded together by, clay hands.


Maybe, I took you for granted
we always were so comfortable
in the store I'd been enchanted
by your looks then, quite remarkable.
But how the miles have worn us out,
neither of us splash in puddles.
No wild adventurous walkabout,
just quiet evenings, laced with cuddles.


I’m much more caring now. These days
wash & brush your sagging leather.
Wipe your tongue that silently says
‘My souls torn apart forever.’
Deep byways of our history
are banked with bloom from Glaston roots,
you'll always be, much more to me.
than just a pair of muddy boots.

[dks]

Ah...the first full length verse I've laid eyes on from our Richard...lovely, indeed...many of your images are just gorgeous...I love in particular:

...Our magic way
through, false dawns, sunsets tangerine
home for Glaston fields longest day.
Happy; To be, happy. Above!
Our hearts fly free in rainbow bands
of dancing gems. We gods in love
bonded together by, clay hands.

and this:

I’m much more caring now. These days
wash & brush your sagging leather.
Wipe your tongue that silently says
‘My souls torn apart forever.’
Deep byways of our history
are banked with bloom from Glaston roots...

Obviously about a relationship/marriage that has come into maturity...although there is a fleeting feeling that elicits an ache for bygone moments...the well-being is palpable and gives your words a rural, unflappable poise...

[Saturn]

Wow Richard that's a thing of rare beauty

You must laugh at my adolescent-like protestations of love and desire.

What you have written gives me a sense of what it would be like to spend a lifetime with someone and still be in love with them.

I can only dream of such a thing.

Thanks for your contribution. I hope you will favour us with more of your work in the future

[Richard]

Saturn I am like a sponge for your flattery.
What I posted last night was, mania on paper, more a drinks coaster, yes mania mopped by paper, a stain or illustration?
Too much.
It was written a couple of years ago, 8 beats to the bar, the same amount of breaths as Daffodils. Obsession with form? Me?
It looks a bit hackney in retrospect and I feel an urge to tinker.
But essentially you jogged me onto this muse/mania springboard and I stuck this up as an example of hopefully a springier springboard that we can fall from.
What I do remember is Spandella'd, an adjective of the most fucking gigantic proportion ever (exclamation marks would have to queue around the solar system and approach in deference)

[Richard]

Looking at it on the screen now i think it would make a good folk song. The start; a lone lost voice, i like the 'you took me...' and the 'usually' bit.
It could be hacked about, i'm sure there is a good chorus there, and it could build Stairway like.
The best English folk lyrics no doubt belong to Hardy.
Jimmy Page why wait for the muse?


this bit is very old........................
we used paper then

One day these words too on a page could be trapped
the peaks of my mind, intrepidly mapped.
The inner landscape drawn out by the line
of my pen, pinning down this moment in time.
The moth of a memory, framed by my thinking
may one day reawaken, in the daylight blinking.
Just a forgotten pressed flower, the most poignant bookmark.
Solar power. Now stored safe in the dark.

Sorry a bit more memory lane there.
Glastonbury 2004, took a load of money and a few too many drugs. Sealed in a glass case.

[Richard]

So I must be a crap poet. Only 3 fans in the WWW (whole wide world) and one of them is a black cat. Its great to get feedback as well as purrs.

3 fish in a teardrop.
The most intimate place, yet in public?
Does anyone else read this shit?
As the last full stop goes in, this is the right place to end the chapter Adventures of 2006.
Happy New Year.

[Saturn]

I often wonder what the outsiders and the lurkers think of all this stuff and our little coterie.

If you think about it more people probably read these poems than many published poets.


Of course we're giving it away for free...


[not that anyone would pay to read my stuff]

[dks]

[not that anyone would pay to read my stuff]

R u b b i s h...

[dks]

So I must be a crap poet. Only 3 fans in the WWW (whole wide world) and one of them is a black cat. Its great to get feedback as well as purrs.
Saturn, Denise; I appreciate the trouble you go to by putting your mouses where your mouths are. I'm tempted to turn it into a screen saver . And its nice having the novel feeling that you are being understood by those whose opinions you hold highly.
3 fish in a teardrop.
The most intimate place, yet in public?
Does anyone else read this shit?
As the last full stop goes in, this is the right place to end the chapter Adventures of 2006.
Happy New Year.

Richard...when I read what you say, I get sort of sleepy...mesmerized...makes me want to purrrr...

[Richard]

Saturn. Happy New Year.
Yes its weird you see the views go up, but no one will comment.
No doubt our stuff is more widely distributed through this than through what I suppose is still the myriad of poetry publishers out there (publishing sheds, more than publishing houses) trying to hold on to their businnesses.
Really they have little to offer now. In the UK there is still an oversupply, but being published through them is pointless, now if it was Faber....
I gave up submitting years ago. They published everything (all the crap ones,) but I wrote some lovely hiaku, and they didn't want it.
So I zipped up my pencil case, they in the main seemed clueless if well meaning, confused in the face of extinction.

[Saturn]

[not that anyone would pay to read my stuff]

R u b b i s h...

Impartial ego-massaging...

[Megan]

It’s Glasto weekend, and once again I won’t be going. It must be amazing if it produces such wonderful poetry as this.

[AsphodelElysium]

This is a really great poem. I need to go back and read into the archives more. I'm missing out.

[Saturn]

Trust me the author is not someone you would admire...

It's a long story...

[AsphodelElysium]

I don't admire Byron as a person, but I can respect him as a poet. Not that this guy is a Byron by any means. But it is a good poem.