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PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2010 4:59 pm 
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Very nice indeed, Ian - he manages to evoke that crystal specialness of deep winter in the overstarred and ringing glass. Yu did say there was more of it? (subtle hint!)


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PostPosted: Tue Jan 12, 2010 11:54 pm 
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More John Burnside:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2001/ja ... awards2000


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 17, 2010 11:33 am 
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The second verse of Christmas and Epiphany:

Withdraw your senses from that outward night:
the true (ten-fingered on my calendar,
ten-petalled, doubly-bloomed, within my heart)
is hidden - all that have been ours, and are,
in one calm darkness; you its warmth of wheat,
its threefold gift, its one prophetic star.

And here's the first verse of two of:

Yeti
Shake out your dragon streamers; autumn the snows
with balefire, link, or demon thurible;
strike-up the horrors of the horn and gong;
shiver my citadels with incantation;
and do all this in fear of me: with cause.

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PostPosted: Sun Jan 17, 2010 4:45 pm 
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A strange and very evocative poem -
is the second line right, Ian - 'the true'?


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 17, 2010 5:44 pm 
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I double-checked, but that's what it says in the book.

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PostPosted: Fri Jan 22, 2010 3:03 pm 
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I have posted a few more of my poems on my poetry blog sferse.

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PostPosted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 12:15 am 
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had a good browse there, Ian. My fave is still Observer Effect, but I can't stop thinking about the future catching up with me...


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 1:06 pm 
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Thanks. I'll keep on posting poems there as I write them. I have a couple of I'm working on, which should be finished in a week or so. Mind you, I also have a couple of short stories to finish as well...

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PostPosted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 11:39 pm 
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For Burns's day. The last two verses always chill me:

To A Mouse

On turning over a mouse's nest with the plough, November 1785.


Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,
O, what panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast,
An' weary Winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald.
To thole the Winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!


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PostPosted: Mon Jan 25, 2010 6:29 pm 
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To Continue our Burns's night celebrations, the lovely Eddie Reader sings Ae Fond Kiss

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIKWHuxljFE


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PostPosted: Mon Jan 25, 2010 6:38 pm 
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Andy M Stewart sings 'My Love Is Like A Red Red Rose'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cBCQMWMb ... re=related


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 31, 2010 5:27 pm 
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The Sinking Sands At Ballingry

John Burnside

When the penny dropped from my hand
and settled, the blackened face
of Georgivs Rex dissolving in the sand,

I saw how lovingly the earth resumes
possession, like a blizzard in reverse,
retaining every blemish, every scratch

and fingerprint, a history of touch
and currency, laid down
and buried with that last faint bloom of warmth

unwittingly surrendered to a depth
I thought about for days, through paper rounds
and chemistry exams, as it became

the echo of my ordinary self
sounded-out and guessed-at in a chill
descent that would continue while I walked

from home to school, from school to morning mass:
another presence, folding through the long
slow water, like a descant, or a pulse.


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 02, 2010 11:58 pm 
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http://www.tate.org.uk/tateetc/poemofth ... polley.htm

Another nice one from the Tate Gallery


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PostPosted: Sat Feb 06, 2010 8:24 pm 
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Invictus as read by Morgan Freeman, part of the 6 Nations opening gumpf on the BBC web-site.

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PostPosted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 2:27 pm 
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Thanks, Mouse. Greeat poem and a wonderful reader in Freeman - I adore his voice!


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