Tag Archives: #newforest

Moorcat Poetry #2

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Moorcat Poetry #2

Moorcat, Moorcat, upon the moor
What need have you of window or door
Nor roof or walls, upon the Heath;
When you have the open skies to live beneath?

The Cows on the Heath

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Pictures by me – G:)

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The cows on the Heath were mooing and lowing
Then they were quiet as mice as the grass they began mowing.
And here a few words of warning:
Please don’t try to feed a cow
Forestry Laws do not ‘that’ allow
And don’t stand behind a cow as it is chewing
Or you might be splashed by a cow who’s looing.

Out on the Moor 11-10-2015

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Out on the Moor 11-10-2015

Out on the moor
There is a cooling breeze
And a morning’s heat
“And they call the wind, Maria.’

Out on the moor
There is an openness of space
And a sparse hoarseness of gorse
And the odd horse
‘And they call the sun, Apollo.’

Out on the moor
There is time and tide
That waits for no man
Not even me
‘And they call the moor, Othello.’

New Forest Poetry 10-10-2015

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New Forest Poetry 10-10-2015

The tree that fell
It wasn’t well
It lost its grip
Began to slip
And…
Sad to tell
It lay on the ground murmuring –
A sad sight
Quite profound;
Whilst all around
Were none to see
The tree
Fall
Without a sound.

New Forest Walk – Early

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New Forest Poetry – Early

We head out early
To the place
Where we can roam free –
The dogs
And me
They upon legs fleet of foot
Me, on flights of fancy
As I follow at a pace
That suits feeling
Breathing
Thinking
Writing.

And, no sooner are we set upon paths
Tracks
And routes untrammelled
Do I sense the things
That create the words
To write
For to remember the experiences
In future times
When four walls encumber me
And my soul is hampered
By urbane urbanity.

Leaves fall and descend to the hoar-frost land below
Savouring their flight from tree to track
With maybe a regretful look or two back
Amongst friends and new acquaintances
They lay peacefully
And consider the changes to come.
Whilst I consider them.

And so it goes…

New Forest Saturday 26th September, 2015

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The New Forest felt particularly old, today; and parts of it decidedly ancient. Still, it would most likely outlast me.
In thirty or forty years time I would probably be buried deep or burnt to a crisp; whilst the forest would just be a little older, a little less sentient.

How morbid, I thought. But, realistic, I added. These trees have been here for absolute ages; some, for centuries – and the forest as a whole unbroken since William caused it to be planted. New it was then.

Tails From The New Forest #1 Squirrel’s Detective Agency?

In the forest
The mighty forest
The squirrel sleeps tonight.

Except for this one night
When he was awoken
By a strange ‘un-forest-like’ noise…

“Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick-ma!”

Squizzel (for that was his name) rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and shook his head to clear away his dreams of hidden treasure. He leant out of his bole-hole in an old Oak tree and listened carefully for the sound to happen once more.

In a short time…

“Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick! Ker-a-vick-ma-da-na!”

He heard the sound – which was more a single voice – coming from the direction of the fallen tree-trunk.

“I shall have to go take a looksie.” Proclaimed Squizzel, to nobody in particular. And he prepared himself for… “An ‘adventure!’ ”

Squizzel was an only child.

And he lived on his own.

But, he was a good squirrel, a red one at that, with a sense of humour and a love of squirrel-life.

He was also particularly brave. Or stupid about the dangerousness of danger. However, he had reached the ripe old age of three, and was an essential part of the forest scene.

Squizzel uttered his battle-cry “Chir-a-chir-chip!” and set forth.

Tbc