Poems About Ted Hughes Seeking Honest Critique
#TedHughes
wallyroo92
Poem Published
1st Aug 2020 1:09am
1st Aug 2020 1:09am
But in the Meantime
Time keeps running, counting, thinking
Even though for some the gears have stopped
Remembering moments and yet unfeeling
It just sits there as dust settles around
Outside the window the scene changes
Grass and trees grow, some die and some go
Everything material ages
But time less emotions
Bears no weight
It doesn’t wait for anyone
It keeps going forward, unmoved
Characterized by numbers, faces and pieces
Man tries to measure time
Man tries to quantify his existence
It becomes the greatest...
Even though for some the gears have stopped
Remembering moments and yet unfeeling
It just sits there as dust settles around
Outside the window the scene changes
Grass and trees grow, some die and some go
Everything material ages
But time less emotions
Bears no weight
It doesn’t wait for anyone
It keeps going forward, unmoved
Characterized by numbers, faces and pieces
Man tries to measure time
Man tries to quantify his existence
It becomes the greatest...
#TimeHeals
#aging
#gratitude #TedHughes
#gratitude #TedHughes
487 reads
10 Comments
Josh
Joshua Bond
Joshua Bond
Poem Published
28th Jul 2020 1:44pm
28th Jul 2020 1:44pm
Gogyoshi Poem, Nr.04 — Cold Wind Blows Hot
A split in the winter curtain
where wind slips in from ill-fitting windows
rustling papers, lifting corners of writing-pads
scribing archetypal messages:
despite your technologies, I am here to stay.
where wind slips in from ill-fitting windows
rustling papers, lifting corners of writing-pads
scribing archetypal messages:
despite your technologies, I am here to stay.
#technology
#nature
#evolution
#philosophical
#TedHughes
573 reads
9 Comments
RobAzza
Poem Published
27th Jul 2020 1:14pm
27th Jul 2020 1:14pm
Cooked Me Well
You cooked me well, good sir,
with fragments of fire born from lust.
Twisted and torpedoed throughout my loins,
the crushing sense of wonder fails to wane
even on the most deserted of nights.
When hollowed sounds of skipping toads
break the silent grip of shuttered night,
and when the gallops cease to kick
at the token-eyed sparrow
twisting about my latest plight,
till then I confess my allegiance
to each brilliant sky, dawn or midnight.
For it is the stars that truly own me.
Not even myself.
with fragments of fire born from lust.
Twisted and torpedoed throughout my loins,
the crushing sense of wonder fails to wane
even on the most deserted of nights.
When hollowed sounds of skipping toads
break the silent grip of shuttered night,
and when the gallops cease to kick
at the token-eyed sparrow
twisting about my latest plight,
till then I confess my allegiance
to each brilliant sky, dawn or midnight.
For it is the stars that truly own me.
Not even myself.
#TedHughes
412 reads
2 Comments
TCLilly
Tanzen Lilly
Tanzen Lilly
Poem Published
19th Jul 2020 4:54pm
19th Jul 2020 4:54pm
Early Bird
The Earth is soaked over-brim and steaming
See proud red cardinal, it is the first
Early bird, to catch and savor
Terror-limp worm curling under
Slick and silent, lacking cruelty
The sole witness a month-old hare
Bug-eyed the dirty-work is done
And both babe and red king hop-along
To the plucky omnivore
Goes its base-need; survival
The urban-jungle morning has begun
©Tanzen Lilly July 2020
See proud red cardinal, it is the first
Early bird, to catch and savor
Terror-limp worm curling under
Slick and silent, lacking cruelty
The sole witness a month-old hare
Bug-eyed the dirty-work is done
And both babe and red king hop-along
To the plucky omnivore
Goes its base-need; survival
The urban-jungle morning has begun
©Tanzen Lilly July 2020
#birds
#nature
#LifeCycle #TedHughes
#LifeCycle #TedHughes
445 reads
1 Comment
slipalong
Poem Published
15th Jul 2020 9:11am
15th Jul 2020 9:11am
Heatwave
Melting tar its smell
Black puddles ripped up, on car tyres
Ray Bans stripped from of the shelf
Factor 75 in the shade retired
Zinc oxide be our war paint
Fissures fingers anger in that temper
In just shorts under the hydrant,
as it sprayed
Mean yellow replacing earths green placenta
Parch(ments) crisp paper
Wall to wall heat, chase shadows east to west
Mother Earth in hot flush beset
Black puddles ripped up, on car tyres
Ray Bans stripped from of the shelf
Factor 75 in the shade retired
Zinc oxide be our war paint
Fissures fingers anger in that temper
In just shorts under the hydrant,
as it sprayed
Mean yellow replacing earths green placenta
Parch(ments) crisp paper
Wall to wall heat, chase shadows east to west
Mother Earth in hot flush beset
#sun
#TedHughes
374 reads
2 Comments
Calamityofgin
Poem Published
14th Jul 2020 8:32pm
14th Jul 2020 8:32pm
Considering Snowdrops
Snowdrop
Now is the globe shrunk tight
Round the mouse’s dulled wintering heart.
Weasel and crow, as if moulded in brass,
Move through an outer darkness
Not in their right minds,
With the other deaths. She, too, pursues her ends,
Brutal as the stars of this month,
Her pale head heavy as metal.
Ted Hughes—
I understand the space in the brass
Airless no contempt, or ability to hold it
Tightly, round spring coiled around nothing
The Yo yo ing purpose of mice, mouse
Pursuits of the steel wool cut, itchy ...
Now is the globe shrunk tight
Round the mouse’s dulled wintering heart.
Weasel and crow, as if moulded in brass,
Move through an outer darkness
Not in their right minds,
With the other deaths. She, too, pursues her ends,
Brutal as the stars of this month,
Her pale head heavy as metal.
Ted Hughes—
I understand the space in the brass
Airless no contempt, or ability to hold it
Tightly, round spring coiled around nothing
The Yo yo ing purpose of mice, mouse
Pursuits of the steel wool cut, itchy ...
#TedHughes
663 reads
13 Comments
Ahavati
Poem Published
6th Jul 2020 3:58pm
6th Jul 2020 3:58pm
Comfortably Numb
I was a fresh tube of paint, Indian Yellow,
in wait to experience the slick skin
of a gesso'd canvas—or paper'd
Poetry put to pictures, a visual gift
After hand-to-hand combat
With the muse. I had never known
A scent of turpentine permeating
The space of an atelier,
Unlike my friend, whose name
Was that of a man's, Michael,
Yet, she was feminine as they come.
Michael, who had fallen obsessively
Within the composition of one
Who would unwittingly become
My greatest mentor. Me, starry-eyed ...
in wait to experience the slick skin
of a gesso'd canvas—or paper'd
Poetry put to pictures, a visual gift
After hand-to-hand combat
With the muse. I had never known
A scent of turpentine permeating
The space of an atelier,
Unlike my friend, whose name
Was that of a man's, Michael,
Yet, she was feminine as they come.
Michael, who had fallen obsessively
Within the composition of one
Who would unwittingly become
My greatest mentor. Me, starry-eyed ...
#TedHughes
#secrets
#philosophical
757 reads
24 Comments
JohnnyBlaze
Poem Published
3rd Jul 2020 12:03pm
3rd Jul 2020 12:03pm
[ CC ] Out-Foxings
Felonious loneliness is a fox
ever prowling, stealing away
whatever minute opportunity
is afforded in this world
by clocks in midnight crisis
shooting blank pages
with their Twelve gauge rifles
Time is of the essence then
I must be a hawk in the rain
pivoting upon winds in moments
watershed from feathered fowling
gliding sleek, beating my wings
If necessary, seeking new roosting
Never a lousy grouse henhoused
for Free Ranged...
ever prowling, stealing away
whatever minute opportunity
is afforded in this world
by clocks in midnight crisis
shooting blank pages
with their Twelve gauge rifles
Time is of the essence then
I must be a hawk in the rain
pivoting upon winds in moments
watershed from feathered fowling
gliding sleek, beating my wings
If necessary, seeking new roosting
Never a lousy grouse henhoused
for Free Ranged...
#WritingPoetry
#MovingOn
#escape #TedHughes
#escape #TedHughes
490 reads
9 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Ted Hughes Seeking Honest Critique
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