A bear, in the woods,
just might be up to no good;
like their forbears were.
Choose a Haiku form
it is short and quite simple
and then go from there.
.
Below, for example
a poem that can make you think,
open eyes, and blink.
.
‘Walking in the woods’
Walking in the woods
more trees than most neighbourhoods:
here my mind will ease.
She walked into the woods
to check out the goods,
and , hopefully, to avoid the bads.
Where…
Stubborn leaves still clung to their trees,
fearful of a falling,
still waiting to answer
their Autumnal calling;
whilst many of their kind
have already taken the plunge,
lunging forwards like a diver
leaving the board,
gracefully turning
and twisting,
before coming to a rest
with the other leaves
in their flooral nest;
they stand frozen
looking nervously over the edge,
considering their outcomes
in jumping off of the ledge.
The rain fell
from sky
to leaf
to me,
as I walked
through
the woods.
I must go down to the words today,
the lonely words in the wood;
the ones that just aren’t used enough;
and not because
they are no good;
but, because they are so shy;
and no one goes to visit them,
and if someone does, they cry.
The words all hide
amongst the trees,
they keep themselves unspoken;
solitude is the thing they crave,
a silence likened to the grave,
or a morning quite unbroken.
I must just go,
to see they’re safe,
check they haven’t wilted;
for they had worth
in better days
before their use was stilted.
I must go down to the words today,
the lonely words in the wood.
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.
Posted in Hampshire, New Forest, Trees, Woods
Tagged #Fallen, #forest, #newforest, #Tree, #Woods
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.
New Forest, Hampshire, UK
Breathe
Breathe in the air
Don’t be afraid to keep breathing
(As if you could stop!)
Let out the stresses
And the bad vibes
The worries and cares
Let them go
Into the air
Let.
Them.
Go.
Walk
Walk the stiffness out of your limbs
Straighten that back
And breathe deeply of the air
Keep breathing that air
Walk through the air
Of the forest
Of the free
And be.
PS If you can hear a little of Pink Floyd’s ‘Breathe’ in there – you are not mistaken – all part of my whole self and themes / ideas come out in my work. A process it is. G:)
Posted in Breathe, Hampshire, New Forest, Poem Poetry, Walking, Woods
Run to me
Run as fast as the wind
Run to my call
Run as if running is all
And when you reach me…
Stay a while
And chew the breeze with me
For that would be good.
 | Cynthia Praski on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
 | Words from a Lentil… on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
| Cynthia Praski on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
| Words from a Lentil… on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
| Cynthia Praski on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
Graeme Sandford 