"wye" poems - Hello Poetry

it was in glasbury-on-wye (wales), school trip, two teams, driven out of the house we were staying, i was in team no. 2, we were given the assignment to read maps... team no. 1 got dropped off at a shorter distance to the house we accommodated... my team was dropped further afield... getting out of the mini-bus i got the map... and just asked 'where are we, on the map?' 'here,' said the driver's index finger. i figured out a shortcut, via the fields, the forest, via cow grazing patches... we beat team no. 1... but the moral of the story? i still think you need to be greek, i.e. you still have to "believe" the earth is flat... a flat earth makes sense with directions like east, west, south, north... i cruised the team to an early victory rotating the map in my hands... i wasn't being ignorant... i wasn't being competitive... but to be honest i had one thing in mind... copernican east? copernican west? huh?! how can you work that one out? i know copernicus was right to stress the earliest signs of an anti-heliocentric way of seeing, but if there's no lucifer looking at a 2 dimensional map of the earth... geocentric improvements don't really help to just argue rather than get from a. to b.; what good is geocentric copernican east to my flat plateau need to co-ordinate a group of people? heliocentric copernican east is geocentric east, west, north south put together, given the earth's orbit and the expanding universe... geocentric my *** i had to turn into a inverse heliocentricity... i had to navigate on a readable flat plateau, moving the map one way up one way the other... and we got there... beat the other team... didn't push any cows onto the pasture... so that's how lucifer read the map.

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Jan 3, 2016

Jan 3, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

glasbury-on-wye (wales)

it was in glasbury-on-wye (wales), school trip, two teams, driven out of the house we were staying, i was in team no. 2, we were given the assignment to read maps... team no. 1 got dropped off at a shorter distance to the house we accommodated... my team was dropped further afield... getting out of the mini-bus i got the map... and just asked 'where are we, on the map?' 'here,' said the driver's index finger. i figured out a shortcut, via the fields, the forest, via cow grazing patches... we beat team no. 1... but the moral of the story? i still think you need to be greek, i.e. you still have to "believe" the earth is flat... a flat earth makes sense with directions like east, west, south, north... i cruised the team to an early victory rotating the map in my hands... i wasn't being ignorant... i wasn't being competitive... but to be honest i had one thing in mind... copernican east? copernican west? huh?! how can you work that one out? i know copernicus was right to stress the earliest signs of an anti-heliocentric way of seeing, but if there's no lucifer looking at a 2 dimensional map of the earth... geocentric improvements don't really help to just argue rather than get from a. to b.; what good is geocentric copernican east to my flat plateau need to co-ordinate a group of people? heliocentric copernican east is geocentric east, west, north south put together, given the earth's orbit and the expanding universe... geocentric my *** i had to turn into a inverse heliocentricity... i had to navigate on a readable flat plateau, moving the map one way up one way the other... and we got there... beat the other team... didn't push any cows onto the pasture... so that's how lucifer read the map.

48

The Danube to the Severn gave The darken'd heart that beat no more; They laid him by the pleasant shore, And in the hearing of the wave. There twice a day the Severn fills; That salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills. The Wye is hush'd nor moved along, And hush'd my deepest grief of all, When fill'd with tears that cannot fall, I brim with sorrow drowning song. The tide flows down, the wave again Is vocal in its wooded walls; My deeper anguish also falls, And I can speak a little then.

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1.6k

Alfred Lord Tennyson

In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 019

The Danube to the Severn gave The darken'd heart that beat no more; They laid him by the pleasant shore, And in the hearing of the wave. There twice a day the Severn fills; That salt sea-water passes by, And hushes half the babbling Wye, And makes a silence in the hills. The Wye is hush'd nor moved along, And hush'd my deepest grief of all, When fill'd with tears that cannot fall, I brim with sorrow drowning song. The tide flows down, the wave again Is vocal in its wooded walls; My deeper anguish also falls, And I can speak a little then.

16

Op hierdie aarde, groen en blou Met torings wat die lug uit grou In elke huis waar mens dalk bly Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy In wye winkels en krom kerke In nommers en vergete merke Waar ryk sweef en arm lei Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy In stede, woude, see en woestyn In alles, geen, grof en fyn In luuks, skaars, bont en plein Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy In winter, lente, somer, herfs Met albei vuur en skadu bederf Waar ook al maan en son mag skyn Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy Waar sterre sing en sonne lag Omring met komberse van die nag Waar ou gode en planete gly Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy In ou legendes en sprokies verhale In dooie sang en in lewende tale In woorde wat die hart oop sny Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy In gister se groot verlate vlug In môre se onmeetbare sug In die nou wat ons so graag vermy Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy In slaap te dig en drome swart In die wandel en wonder van die hart In seer, troos, kwaad en bly Sal ek nooit weer iemand kry soos jy

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Aug 4, 2019

Aug 4, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC

Inflation is just another form of taxation on the poor. Was it Keynes who coined that phrase back in those Bloomsbury days? when the world was younger than now when the when and the why and the who and the how didn't matter but now it's appropriate because of the awful state we find ourselves in. Was it him Was it Keynes? It seems that he was right and if so, then we must fight against poverty fight against penury we could find insolvency in our own back yard Life is hard and they make it harder raiding the larder taking the food from your mouth. The South bleeds us dry from the Tyne to the Wye. We really ought to get wise and get rid of those guys in grey suits.

0

May 11, 2013

May 11, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Northern approach

Inflation is just another form of taxation on the poor. Was it Keynes who coined that phrase back in those Bloomsbury days? when the world was younger than now when the when and the why and the who and the how didn't matter but now it's appropriate because of the awful state we find ourselves in. Was it him Was it Keynes? It seems that he was right and if so, then we must fight against poverty fight against penury we could find insolvency in our own back yard Life is hard and they make it harder raiding the larder taking the food from your mouth. The South bleeds us dry from the Tyne to the Wye. We really ought to get wise and get rid of those guys in grey suits.

30

At Tintern Abbey I set my bait To fish in the River Wye, I’d only been an hour, I swear When the girl came floating by, Her dress spread out, a fine brocade And some lace about her hair, I almost drowned when I reeled her in And fell in the river there. I pulled her up on the river bank And she lay, and softly sighed, I felt a strange relief, and thanked The Lord, I thought she’d died. But her eyelids gave a flutter then And she looked at me apace, ‘Would you be one of the Abbot’s men? There’s no mark upon your face.’ ‘I only came to fish,’ I said, ‘And I like what I have caught.’ The look she gave me made me blush For it set my jest at naught. ‘The Abbot Gilbert lies within By his candle, book and prayer, The pestilence has found his sin For he knows, he’s dying there.’ I thought her speech was quaint and old Like an echo, lost in time, I thought, ‘I’ve never seen one so fair, If only she was mine!’ But she sat, and moved away from me And she said, ‘You mustn’t touch, For death has stained this fine country, It may have you in its clutch.’ ‘But I only came to fish,’ I said, And, ‘there’s nothing wrong with me; Yet you float down the River Wye And will end up in the sea.’ ‘I chose the cleansing waters so To avoid the pestilence, The dead lie in the fields about And it spares no eminence.’ ‘My husband, Guy Fitzherbert bleeds In the Abbey’s ante-room, His pilgrimage denied his needs And the Lord will take him soon.’ I stared at Tintern Abbey’s shell Standing gaunt against the sky, ‘You must be catching a fever, We must go and get you dry.’ ‘I needs must be on my way again, Good sir, I wish you well, But leave this place if you’d rather live Than enter the gates of Hell.’ My mind caught at some thing she said And a thought, then so sublime, I asked the girl, ‘What year is this…?’ ‘Thirteen forty-nine!’ David Lewis Paget

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Nov 8, 2014

Nov 8, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC

david-lewis-paget

Beside the River Wye

At Tintern Abbey I set my bait To fish in the River Wye, I’d only been an hour, I swear When the girl came floating by, Her dress spread out, a fine brocade And some lace about her hair, I almost drowned when I reeled her in And fell in the river there. I pulled her up on the river bank And she lay, and softly sighed, I felt a strange relief, and thanked The Lord, I thought she’d died. But her eyelids gave a flutter then And she looked at me apace, ‘Would you be one of the Abbot’s men? There’s no mark upon your face.’ ‘I only came to fish,’ I said, ‘And I like what I have caught.’ The look she gave me made me blush For it set my jest at naught. ‘The Abbot Gilbert lies within By his candle, book and prayer, The pestilence has found his sin For he knows, he’s dying there.’ I thought her speech was quaint and old Like an echo, lost in time, I thought, ‘I’ve never seen one so fair, If only she was mine!’ But she sat, and moved away from me And she said, ‘You mustn’t touch, For death has stained this fine country, It may have you in its clutch.’ ‘But I only came to fish,’ I said, And, ‘there’s nothing wrong with me; Yet you float down the River Wye And will end up in the sea.’ ‘I chose the cleansing waters so To avoid the pestilence, The dead lie in the fields about And it spares no eminence.’ ‘My husband, Guy Fitzherbert bleeds In the Abbey’s ante-room, His pilgrimage denied his needs And the Lord will take him soon.’ I stared at Tintern Abbey’s shell Standing gaunt against the sky, ‘You must be catching a fever, We must go and get you dry.’ ‘I needs must be on my way again, Good sir, I wish you well, But leave this place if you’d rather live Than enter the gates of Hell.’ My mind caught at some thing she said And a thought, then so sublime, I asked the girl, ‘What year is this…?’ ‘Thirteen forty-nine!’ David Lewis Paget

57

Under Rings And Crescent Meandering Down Stream Through The Land Of My Fathers That Once Carried Their Dreams To The Wider Reaches Of Silty Gravel Plains That Are Fed And Washed By Cambrian Rains Here High Vertical Sandbanks Crisis Cross The Valley Floors Allowing The Wye To Empty Onto English Shores One Of The Most Scenic Rivers In The UK

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Jun 2, 2019

Jun 2, 2019 at 2:48 PM UTC

Puds

River Wye

Under Rings And Crescent Meandering Down Stream Through The Land Of My Fathers That Once Carried Their Dreams To The Wider Reaches Of Silty Gravel Plains That Are Fed And Washed By Cambrian Rains Here High Vertical Sandbanks Crisis Cross The Valley Floors Allowing The Wye To Empty Onto English Shores One Of The Most Scenic Rivers In The UK

15

Breathless in this valley I contemplate with awe the timeless,verdant landscape rolling upward from it's floor. I wonder at such symmetry such sublime majesty which captures my attention and makes my spirit soar. The river in it's urgent quest to reach the open sea with it's salmon forging upward in their own urgency. Nothing greener than the meadows watered by the rushing Wye except perhaps the wooded hills standing green against the sky.

0

Jul 3, 2019

Jul 3, 2019 at 4:49 AM UTC

rose-hopkins

wye valley

Breathless in this valley I contemplate with awe the timeless,verdant landscape rolling upward from it's floor. I wonder at such symmetry such sublime majesty which captures my attention and makes my spirit soar. The river in it's urgent quest to reach the open sea with it's salmon forging upward in their own urgency. Nothing greener than the meadows watered by the rushing Wye except perhaps the wooded hills standing green against the sky.

16

Only yesterday when the headlines told me we're okay, we're on the mend,there's improvement on the way Only yesterday and I paid to read it,paid to read that crock of.. .. in a bit I'll get over it,get over all the barefaced lies that I read in the daily, which I now despise and I shall not buy that rag again. At times the news is,to say the least,less the news,more of a feast of fairy tales. i.e Mother Hubbard had no home,had no cupboard and therefore did not give her dog a bone but they say she did. Well, she got rid of that old Mutt and now lives in a garden hut,but the papers never tell you,do they? Make hay says the Times, which Hay? say I Will hay? he's dead Hay On Wye? but that's in Wales and holds another crock of fairy tales. Mary never had a lamb or if she did she ate it one day,when in a jam and had no food to give the brood back home which by the way was by a field of hay and the home where Mother Hubbard once gave a dog a bone and that was only yesterday. I'l go online today it's far less confusing.

0

Aug 5, 2014

Aug 5, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

Cracking one more egg

Only yesterday when the headlines told me we're okay, we're on the mend,there's improvement on the way Only yesterday and I paid to read it,paid to read that crock of.. .. in a bit I'll get over it,get over all the barefaced lies that I read in the daily, which I now despise and I shall not buy that rag again. At times the news is,to say the least,less the news,more of a feast of fairy tales. i.e Mother Hubbard had no home,had no cupboard and therefore did not give her dog a bone but they say she did. Well, she got rid of that old Mutt and now lives in a garden hut,but the papers never tell you,do they? Make hay says the Times, which Hay? say I Will hay? he's dead Hay On Wye? but that's in Wales and holds another crock of fairy tales. Mary never had a lamb or if she did she ate it one day,when in a jam and had no food to give the brood back home which by the way was by a field of hay and the home where Mother Hubbard once gave a dog a bone and that was only yesterday. I'l go online today it's far less confusing.

22

What if I’d never been called Martin? If I’d been called Malcom or Syed or Fred? Would I have been treated any differently, would the thoughts be different in my head? Would I have been adopted by a different couple, maybe by ones who really loved me instead? Would I be living in a bungalow in Barnet or a thatched cottage in Hay upon Wye? Be a scientist obsessed by nuclear fusion or a pilot spending hours in the sky. Would I be a murderous tyrant, leaving fear, dread and bloodshed in my wake or a devotee of the divine Mary Berry, perfecting the ultimate bake? Would stories be written about me or songs sung about me by the fire or would journalists interview my loved ones and dear ones, desperate to expose me as a liar. What if I’d been created a monster, not even given a name at all? Just left where my life had started. Curled up and quivering in a ball. No one to tell me they loved me, no one to give me a hug. Just treat like a thing to recoil from, like an odious, hideous bug. But what if someone noticed me, to whom the outside didn’t matter at all. Who looked at the deepest core of my being and saw secrets and delights to enthral. Who coached and nurtured and loved me and treat me with no fear or no shame and decided to call me Isaac, as that would be my perfect name.

0

Jun 27, 2019

Jun 27, 2019 at 2:05 AM UTC

Hortonious101

What if

What if I’d never been called Martin? If I’d been called Malcom or Syed or Fred? Would I have been treated any differently, would the thoughts be different in my head? Would I have been adopted by a different couple, maybe by ones who really loved me instead? Would I be living in a bungalow in Barnet or a thatched cottage in Hay upon Wye? Be a scientist obsessed by nuclear fusion or a pilot spending hours in the sky. Would I be a murderous tyrant, leaving fear, dread and bloodshed in my wake or a devotee of the divine Mary Berry, perfecting the ultimate bake? Would stories be written about me or songs sung about me by the fire or would journalists interview my loved ones and dear ones, desperate to expose me as a liar. What if I’d been created a monster, not even given a name at all? Just left where my life had started. Curled up and quivering in a ball. No one to tell me they loved me, no one to give me a hug. Just treat like a thing to recoil from, like an odious, hideous bug. But what if someone noticed me, to whom the outside didn’t matter at all. Who looked at the deepest core of my being and saw secrets and delights to enthral. Who coached and nurtured and loved me and treat me with no fear or no shame and decided to call me Isaac, as that would be my perfect name.

20

I got involved in a fight at Cradley Heath Resulted in losing my two front teeth Then another fight and a loss of my left eye Got into a argument on the high street at Ross - on-Wye A bus accident followed and I lost both feet I was running for a bus at Birmingham New Street After this it was the time I lost my hair It happened in Scotland I think it was in Ayr My next body part to lose was my dear old ***** Caused by a jealous Welsh husband at Caerphilly I was talking too much in the town of Louth Yep you've guessed it I lost my lips and mouth Please don't pity me I still have my heart and brain Actually that's a lie as today I got hit by a train

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Sep 17, 2017

Sep 17, 2017 at 2:00 AM UTC

kieran-1369

LOSING MY BODY PARTS

I got involved in a fight at Cradley Heath Resulted in losing my two front teeth Then another fight and a loss of my left eye Got into a argument on the high street at Ross - on-Wye A bus accident followed and I lost both feet I was running for a bus at Birmingham New Street After this it was the time I lost my hair It happened in Scotland I think it was in Ayr My next body part to lose was my dear old ***** Caused by a jealous Welsh husband at Caerphilly I was talking too much in the town of Louth Yep you've guessed it I lost my lips and mouth Please don't pity me I still have my heart and brain Actually that's a lie as today I got hit by a train

14

Who could ask for more? than to sit beside the river on it's perpetual,headlong journey, in the green and verdant valley of the Wye. Where the ever changing seasons in their rich and timeless harmony bring a new delight to please the eye. Where meadows,rich and fertile, reach up to meet the woodland standing proud and green against the sky. See the salmon catch the sunlight, hear the constant conversations of the bird life as they swoop and soar so high. Smell the sweet scent of the leaf mould catch the spirit of the moment who could ask for more? Not I.

0

Jul 13, 2019

Jul 13, 2019 at 6:30 AM UTC

rose-hopkins

Who could ask for more?

Who could ask for more? than to sit beside the river on it's perpetual,headlong journey, in the green and verdant valley of the Wye. Where the ever changing seasons in their rich and timeless harmony bring a new delight to please the eye. Where meadows,rich and fertile, reach up to meet the woodland standing proud and green against the sky. See the salmon catch the sunlight, hear the constant conversations of the bird life as they swoop and soar so high. Smell the sweet scent of the leaf mould catch the spirit of the moment who could ask for more? Not I.

17