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.
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 novel. Even the genre is a tricky one. I don’t want to restrict myself.
Writing is freedom.
Synopsis to follow. Thank you for reading my friends.
Rain revives waning blossom,
A faded, aged May Queen’s trane.
Tuneful, cooling teeny tears
Fall from scented ‘ears’,
Dissolving fears;
Blessing those who choose
To be the poet’s muse
And walk along the enchanted lane.
Yesterday,we waited forever for the torrential rain to ease so that we could
Blossom floats blissfully
Like gossamer,
Kissing our faces
With fairy breath.
On my walks now blossom is bountiful in wonderful rich cherry pinks to the most delicate whites. It is the translucent whites which I love to look up and see wonderful patterns and shadows and smell nature’s sweet spring breath. Magic!
A sprinkling of lavender jewels twinkle;
Periwinkles’ are fairies tools,
Wound on earth’s spindles,
Into wedding bedding
With rose quartz runes.
As newly weds sleep,
Their dreams steep
Together so they are bound
Peacefully forever.
Snow falls over
The ridge silently: like
Pure dove down;
Fluttering,
Glowing like butter
When slivers of sunlight
Ease through umber trees.
The night became silent on Saturday as snow fell magically for the first time. We woke like excited children to watch snowflakes melting on our cottage bedroom window. Unfortunately the morning warmed up and our dreamland melted, so we decided to walk up our local ‘Greensands ridge’, where we knew snow would still be in the furrows and settled in the copses.
Lullaby orchard,
Undulating verdant lawn,
sundrenched spring morn,
Thawing thirsty buds,
Bursting with
Honeyed dew:
Nature’s muse.
Sometimes my sat nav takes me up a country lane which appears to be going nowhere. Without this quirky technology I wouldn’t have found this gorgeous little tranquil spot deep in the English countryside. I stopped my car and the dogs and I drank in the honeyed, gentle early spring morning. It was a special moment which reminded me of how inspirational nature is to me. Enjoy your day or evening. 🙂
Lavender Moon: Artist, Poet and Lover of Nature 
You must be logged in to post a comment.