There's a reason we ride

our poet-in-residence

PS that was me at Kew tram depot corner yest'dy mornin 😄

Resound said:

The stoplight's ruddy glow gives me respite.
My sweat rises to to meet the morning's chill
And as a numbus haloes me.
Then the green light releases me,
To rush past logjammed motorists
Who, fortified by radio shockjocks
And myriad fleabite frustrations,
Snarl at my imagined insult.

You Wordsmith...more TISM geniac.nettselliot.txtOpen ↗

Well.. TS Elliot tuned the radio,
Couldn't get rid of the static,
Serves him right for being so enigmatic.
TS Elliot crashed his motor car,
Snapped a clutch cable,
I bet you my youngest daughter
Could drink him under the table.

TS Elliot, TS Elliot, TS Elliot, TS Elliot 😉 😉

He's only a poet ,,,

flyingdutch said:

our poet-in-residence

PS that was me at Kew tram depot corner yest'dy mornin 😄

I thought it was you. I had at least three things going through my mind at the time (moving house, the assignment that I'm supposed to be doing at this very moment, something else) but I did manage to register you at the last moment 🙂 That poem was that morning's commute, incidentally.

Resound wrote -

Quoted message said:

I've just attended a lit. lecture on T S Eliot (yes, I know what that's
an anagram for) and it seems to have affected my mind...

Each winter it gets harder for me to get out and train - must be going soft!
Anyway after a cold hard session the half remembered words of another TSE
standard keep on running around in my head -

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey;
The ways deep and the weather sharp.
The very dead of winter....

A hard time we had of it
At the end we preferred to travel all night
sleeping in snatches,
with the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly."

Roll on summer baby ! - best, Andrew

Resound said:

I've just attended a lit. lecture on T S Eliot (yes, I know what that's
an anagram for) and it seems to have affected my mind...

No longer dark, nor yet light.
The hiss of my tyres on the wet road,
Is punctuated by the drone of delivery vans.
And the half-hearted hum of early morning traffic,
Is the chorus to a solo magpie.

Clouds caught in the liquor of dawn,
Blaze as flakes of incandescent orichalcum.
The Maribyrnong River, old glass over chocolate velvet,
Repeats their glory,
And echos the dying embers of the stars.

The bottom of the hill, still shrouded in shadow,
Reverberates to the shriek and clank of freight trains.
My feet maintain a wild gyre.
And I hold to my course,
Against the maddened rush of two-tonne metal beetles.

And then rise upon rise upon rise.
Did Sisyphus ever feel such rapture
In each brief moment at the summit,
'Ere his inevitable fall?

The stoplight's ruddy glow gives me respite.
My sweat rises to to meet the morning's chill
And as a numbus haloes me.
Then the green light releases me,
To rush past logjammed motorists
Who, fortified by radio shockjocks
And myriad fleabite frustrations,
Snarl at my imagined insult.

--
Resound

Ooooh ooooh can I put that on my blog please?

Tam

quote='Tamyka Bell'Resound said:

I've just attended a lit. lecture on T S Eliot (yes, I know what that's
an anagram for) and it seems to have affected my mind...

No longer dark, nor yet light.
The hiss of my tyres on the wet road,
Is punctuated by the drone of delivery vans.
And the half-hearted hum of early morning traffic,
Is the chorus to a solo magpie.

Clouds caught in the liquor of dawn,
Blaze as flakes of incandescent orichalcum.
The Maribyrnong River, old glass over chocolate velvet,
Repeats their glory,
And echos the dying embers of the stars.

The bottom of the hill, still shrouded in shadow,
Reverberates to the shriek and clank of freight trains.
My feet maintain a wild gyre.
And I hold to my course,
Against the maddened rush of two-tonne metal beetles.

And then rise upon rise upon rise.
Did Sisyphus ever feel such rapture
In each brief moment at the summit,
'Ere his inevitable fall?

The stoplight's ruddy glow gives me respite.
My sweat rises to to meet the morning's chill
And as a numbus haloes me.
Then the green light releases me,
To rush past logjammed motorists
Who, fortified by radio shockjocks
And myriad fleabite frustrations,
Snarl at my imagined insult.

--
Resound

Ooooh ooooh can I put that on my blog please?

Tam[/QUOTE]

Absolutely, you can. Thanks for asking too 🙂