From the Forestal of New Forest 08-08-2015
Here I stand
The Guardian of this Forest;
The New Forest
And here I have stood for nearly a thousand years; seeing men, women, kings and queens, come and go. I was strong; my Forest has survived and flourished.
The Trees know that their days are numbered; some still sentient enough to be counting down that number.
I have seen much and weathered many storms; but, I am no fool – I know that I cannot rule when there is nothing left to rule for.
It seems that the end is nigh.
I asked the question: can I have more? They answered me with a degree of insolence: you have that number and no more; use them wisely.
I resigned myself to this limitation – unwieldy as it was – and proceeded to write the shortest of epistles possible.
When presented to the judges, my words fell upon tainted ears; their decisions made before a hearing was given.
Words, I concur, are often liberally used, without effort, and worth little or nothing; this is not a rash thought, for I have the greater knowledge of values and relevence – an almost lost combination these days.
‘They’ ‘say’ that my poetry really stinks; that, if heard, it would bring a grimace to the face of the immutable Sphinx; but, I don’t care what anyone thinks; my poetry is fine… to me.’They’, also ‘say’ that my rhymes are turgid and bland; that they could curdle milk and cause plagues throughout the land; but, I don’t mind, I understand – ‘they’ just don’t get the point… do you see? And ‘who’ are ‘they’ anyway? Just some jumped up critics, I suppose, analytics or the like, who can just get on ‘their’ bikes and go and read prose!