Stag in a magical woodland


โ€‹

I have been walking alot through woodlands lately, enjoying the amazing light filtering through the trees and the warm copper hues of the fallen leaves. A couple of times I have spotted deer running startled by the dogs. I love them, they are magical creatures and have inspired me to draw and paint this scene of the stag in a magical woodland. I hope you enjoy it. Have a great weekend. ๐Ÿ™‚

Advertisements

First frost breathes…


โ€‹

โ€‹

โ€‹

โ€‹

First frost breathes through crystalline teeth,

 Steeping brightly hued blooms into a moon dipped

Weeping sleep.

I look down the garden now at the damp brown rotting garden and remember the warm days filled with summer fresh scents; butterflies and bees everywhere. Then came the first frost, it was such a shock but turned the garden into a magical place, frozen and beautiful. I am so grateful for nature. As the garden lies sleeping,  I enjoy every day as a different day. I can see the birds hopping about and the gentle mellow yellow sunshine through watery leaves. 

Rambling in the Fairy wood


โ€‹

In the Fairy Wood a cool wind sings

Songs of summer past: Larks and cherry blossoms

Rambling roses for fairy posies.

Speckled yellow, ruby and rust leaves swirl,

Crunching under toes.

Dappled light, warm and bright Iilluminates

 faces of forest mythological creatures,

A shadow show emerging; tree nymphs, Boris the troll

And frolocking fairies.

Brooding skies like galloping waves, 

Tallow mallow ggiant’s fists!

Twisters suck up golden mists.

Poppy walk


โ€‹

Sunny morning,

Swifts soaring;

Dog rose scented air.

Maiden’s garlands,

wedding bells afar.

Harebells & summer fairs

Dancing campions,

Wild flower champion

The scarlet poppy!

Musing…


โ€‹

โ€‹
Tracing grooves in ancient oak bark

With tingling fingers, soothed; 

Sheltered in the wings of strong silent boughs.

Wooed by whispering tales from distant shores.

Amber acorns break onto fresh  fallen crushed leaves

Seeding under misted mosses and musty funghi

Where stories weave. 

Challenging the poet with Prose


Is writing my poetry blog a deliberate distraction from the challenge to write a novel in a month?

Or…

Is the act of writing and rambling a way of getting the creative juices going?

I have had the main characters in my novel swirling about in my brain for a couple of years, may be longer. When I’m walking with the dogs, watching them and noticing the changing cloud formations or ripples on water, I can zone in on the action of the novel and what the characters are feeling and thinking. When I stop and feel close up to nature, my world reverts to poetry.

I find at first light I greet the day with my cup of coffee and pen poised to write about 1800-2000 words. My husband has gone out to work, the dogs are stretched out on the sofa. I love the quietitude. If it is calm and silent, my felt tip fibre pen takes off. I know this novel won’t be perfect because if I was using the language of poetry, it would probably take me the rest of my years to finish the first draft. I’m just letting the innocence of the novel flow and see where it ends.

For the Nanowrimo website I created a quick cover design and thought of a title: this may change.

I will always be a nature poet and photographer who writes the occasional ย novel. Even the genre is a ย tricky one. I don’t want to restrict myself.

Writing is freedom.


Synopsis to follow. Thank you for reading my friends.

Delicate Dragonfly


โ€‹ 

Delicate dragonfly’s  iridescent wings like

rainbow beings, flying  high in angelic beams;

Dancing with filigree seeds like snowflakes and pearly beads.

Entranced by glistening tears on ‘Old man’s beard’,

 Gliding golden speckled skies;

riding the tide of sighs,

Seeking sophorific  berries
Juicy  as cherries.

Cherishing our summer dreams


When grey rainy days

Seem endless, we mourn

From dawn;

Lingering on lush chamomile edged lawns,

On well worn comfy chairs

Making endless dainty daisy chains,

Retiring to take tea in the ย tent before feeling faint.

Warm bread slices spread with butter,

Hearts a flutter;

Ripe strawberries gushing with cream!

Forever cherishing our summer dreams.


Have a lovely week everyone. ย ๐Ÿ™‚

 

 

Yesterday we had a gorgeous walk in Ampthill Great Park. It felt chilly and I wondered if it would rain, however after a while the sky looked an entcing intense blue, reminiscent of hot July days and my poem was born as we walked!

There are still plenty of brambles ripe and dripping from the hedgerows, the haws are blood red and sloes are growing plumper! I’ve seen a few butterflies and bees, sounding more anxious in their work, before the days get cooler. In the Park are lots of Sweet Chestnut trees, ripe with their spiky balls dangling down. The crab apple trees look the best so I think I’ll be back for more foraging!

The Writing Garden ~ Issue Nine


https://thewritinggarden.wordpress.com/2016/05/17/the-writing-garden-issue-nine/

A little late folks but I’d like to introduce you to Suzy Hazelwood’s wonderful Poetry zine called The Writing Garden. She selected my poem ‘Ivy Weaves’ for her May edition. My poem is 10th on the list, however there are lovely poems to read by talented poets. Enjoy! And many thanks to Suzy for choosing to publish my poem.

I must get on and make Sound clouds! ๐Ÿ™‚