A local walk I like to think is my own.
How quiet is the forest.
Beside the brook, I hear cracking hogweed, like tiny castanets.
And rustling grasses looking like fairy tassles.
I see illuminating, floating gold dipped seed dust, filtered in ribbons between stately trees.
Scratching dry earth with a hawk’s feather, it feels worn like old leather.
How quiet is the forest.
It was so exciting to see these early Bluebells in an ancient woodland.
Usually my poetry tends to be freeverse however in one of my notebooks I came across an example of a ‘Rectum refrain and decided to write my Early Blue bell poem using the Rectum refrain style.
So basically a poem written in the above style should have 10 lines. The first line contains one syllable only, the second 2 syllables and so on. However line 10 should contain a combination of lines 1-4 thus making 10 syllables. No rhyming!
It was a challenge. I hope I got it right! However producing a poem about the experience I had of that walk, coming across the wood and Hawthorn blossom and using my senses and imagination, was far more important to me. I hope you enjoy it.
Early Bluebells
Blue,
Blue bells.
Blue bells shake.
Chilly winds wake,
Woodland creatures hide.
Twigs, new shoots lime green, fresh.
Blossom pure, delicate, intense
Hawthorn spike in dark hollows shine
Glassy eyed rabbits shy waiting. Still.
Blue blue bells blue bells shake chilly -winds wake
Mellow yellow
Cowslip ‘bells’
Jingling in scented meadows
And musty dells; amongst
Salty springy mosses.
A distant lark flutters;
The ethereal song mingling
With chimes from the sacred
Woodland.
I am walking through the tree line avenues protected from roaring warning winds.
Brittle branches are torn away landing like arrows ripping into the land’s heart.
Leaves dive and dart, grasses like babbling streams.
Leaning into an old gnarled tree, I look high into the patterns made by silhouettes of leaves.
What will I dream of…
Whispering tones ,
Ancient trees:
Parched shredded tomes:
Weathered doors moan,
Leaning
Golden patterns
Breathing shadows .
Sifted shifting soothing,
Cirrus,
Sapphire blue hue.
https://lavendermoongirlsbrownharecottage.wordpress.com/
Please click on the link to read my poem inspired by my recent ramble.
I hope you enjoy my post. The weather has been warm so we’ve been exploring our woodland pathways. As ever, I am inspired so much by my walkhs in the surrounding countryside whilst enjoying the company of my dogs; sometimes joined by my husband and friends.
White pillows
Float into hollows, nooks
And burrows.
Aspen and willow,
Stark, dark: sinister
Whispering sharp wind
Billows.
Lichen hillocks.
Holly and blackthorns
Creak under laden leaves
Dripping icy nature’s tea.
Flirty flurries settle on warm cheeks
And tiny beaks.
Woodland Wildlife seeks solace
From fizzing blizzards.
Winter lakeside:
Grey pools binding
With silver speckled rinds;
Threads and reeds surfing
Across leafy waves,
Warmed by gentle waves.
Winter is hanging on, but I like its inky beauty and sparkling surprises.
Shoots produding,
Shiny Buds swelling,
Pussy willow a silver sensation!
Petals waxy, honey sweet.
Catkins like knitted fingers;
Golden rays warming
Our hearts on cold days;
January’s lamp black trees
Dripping tears.
Weeping tangled larches
Tickling lichen bark;
Crows huddled in puddles,
Riddles in ink blotted dark skies.
Welly prints in sticky mud;
Children dropping crumbs
From winter tarts.
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Happy New Year! Stride out on winter walks, feeling crisp air brushing your cheeks. Stop and listen to the birds. Watch the wintery dark tree branches dancing in bracing wind. Welcome January!
Lavender Moon: Artist, Poet and Lover of Nature 
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