Tag Archives: #hampshire

Streams of Paddling in the New Forest

Vega and Haiku cooling down

Vega and Haiku cooling down

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Along with some glorious mud

Paddling in a stream
That crossed our path;
The two pups cooled their warmth
And quaffed of the murky ale;
They ran and played along the bank
And splashed merrily into the water
Until a passing herd of humankinds
Took their attention for a minute;
Until, once passed, there resumed
A game of tag amidst the shallows.

Headline News: Dogs Climb Trees!

Vega and Haiku: Tree-climbers extraordinaire!

Vega and Haiku: Tree-climbers extraordinaire!

Vega: I could climb a tree…
… right to the very top!

Haiku: Me, too!

Vega: You? You’re only a half-pint; you’d never be able to climb a tree.

Haiku: I’m as good as you!

Vega: Huh! Challenge! Accepted!

Haiku: Start! Climbing!

Narrator: And the above is what occurred…

In the woods 2 – The Sequel (04-07-2015)

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Fallen Tree in the New Forest

A tree fell in the woods
And I didn’t hear a thing;
I wasn’t there to hear it
That’s if it indeed it made any noise…
…at all.

Did it cry out in anguish
Upon its altered state?
Did it have forebodings
That came, but far too late?
Does it lay here now
Sentient and hurt?
Or is it just decaying
Slowly akin the dirt
Of a mess of bark and limbs and trunk, and…
Has its life-sap dried;
All its nature drunk?

A tree fell in the woods
You can hear the echoes still…

In the woods (04-07-2015)

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It is cool in the forest
In the shade of trees of age.

And I try to capture the moments
In words upon a page.

A welcoming breeze accompanies
A greeting most effusive.

And walking here brings
A peace, elsewhere, so elusive.

Woodland creatures ignore my passing;
Or herald it; I know not which;

And the cry of birdsong is a soundtrack
To my walk; my healing stitch.

As a head heavy from toils of yester
Is opened and cleansed to help return the jester

Who fell silent when the laughter didn’t come;
Couldn’t crack a joke; struck numb… dumb.

The crack of a twig
The sigh of the wind
A beaten path
To an easing of the mind.

Totton (on the Mud)

Totton-precinct
“Wot! No poems!”
Okay, as you asked so nicely you can have a poem…
…about where I live….

Totton

The thing about Totton,
Which has never been forgotten,
Is that the place was not on
The map as where they invented cotton;
It’s more of a blot on
A landscape so rotten
And isn’t a spot on
The fine city of Taunton
Or Totnes, or Tottenham, and not on
Your life is it unusual to hear: “What on
Earth is that!”  Hot on
That thought’s heels, with kettle and pot on,
We find it difficult to plot on
A map its position, location,
And it’s not the place for a relaxing vacation
Of your own volition; trust intuition
And leave it well alone, put on
Your dancing shoes and spot on
Time waltz away until you are a dot on
The horizon.

In the woods today 27-06-2015

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Somewhere, a screen-door slams
A car horn is punched in irritation;
A baby cries for milk;
and the city mill keeps on turning;

But, I am here
Where a twig cracks underfoot
Birds are heard
And space there is to think the word.

I shuffle through leaves
And breathe the air
Releasing the concerns
Renewing the care

One soul in a forest
Alone for a while
In this underpopulated wood
In this overpopulated world.

Thoughts From The New Forest 24-12-2014

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The breeze through the trees

Sets me at my ease

And the sun’s shine

Doth entwine my heart

Which, from the start, was cold

But, now is warmed

Newly formed into a beating thing

After heating brings restoration

This forestation of William’s

Is here for me

Dear to me;

And clear to me

Is the message it gives…

To me.

The sun through the trees

Aims to please

And its aim is true

As it lands upon me;

And I think of you

The rain through the trees

Tries to displease

Feigns ignorance to my plight

Falls like shards

Long and hard

And dampens my discourse

At source.