Forest
As a child, I had a forest practically in my back garden. There was a specific spot in that wood that I was convinced was the most beautiful place in the whole world.
I changed my mind! I was too hasty on the submit button.
I want to call this one...
A WOODY SUSSURRATION
Walking through the forest, hardly making any sound
Except for my heart beating and my footsteps on the ground.
Last year's leaves crunch unctiously beneath my steady tread
Sending up rich scents of leafmould from the forest's sumptious bed
The day is gently warming to kiss away spring's bite
Like the summer days before me, the path is warm and bright
A perfect day and place to walk, sun balanced to wind and shade
Or rest a while on springy turf in a secluded glade
Sunlight dappled through the leaves, I'm doused in green and gold
To my left a bluebell carpet has been expertly unrolled
Tended by a buzzing bee, collecting taxes for her queen
Scent of rain still lingers, and the air tastes fresh and clean
The tickle of the grass against my apricated skin
Not to linger languorously would be nothing short of sin
Against my cheek the gentle breath of early May's sweet sigh
Need I even tell you how flawless blue the sky?
Striking veins of pure azure in the canopy above
Serenaded by chaffinches and a nesting collared dove
If I listen hard enough, I can even hear the sound
Of tiny scurrying insects staying busy all around
Rustling leafy branches; a whispered catspaw breeze
A hungry drumming woodpecker hidden somewhere in the trees
The woody sussurration is a soft and healing balm
Something in me smiling, stilling. I'm renewed. I feel calm.
+++++++
I first wrote this poem when I was maybe nine years old. Apart from the general sentiment and the first two lines, it is a total re-write. I wish I had saved the original, but it was stained with embarrassment for me, because the headteacher read it out during assembly to the entire school. At the time, it was both the best and worst moment of my life. I have never felt so proud and yet wanted to be immediately abducted by aliens at the same time.
I still think the first two lines are the best. I was a much better poet at nine. Maybe I should never have stopped.
++++++
I've done another entry for the Sensational challenge - let me know what you think. Which is better?
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More stories from L.C. Schäfer and writers in Poets and other communities.
making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar2 days ago in Feast
Comments (8)
LC, this was such a great piece! I love the formatting and your vocabulary choices (unctuously and languorously, in particular). Your descriptive language was so seamless, I felt like I was walking along this forest with you! You did a fabulous job playing on the senses of the reader, making it an immersive experience! Nicely done, my friend! I love the completely relatable note form you at the end. It’s incredible that this poem evolved from something you wrote when you were so young! Really shows what a natural talent you are! Well done!
I agree nothing is more calming
well, better really is in the eye of the beholder and I will avoid that, lest I become beholden. this is quite lovely. some very nice imagery and rhyme and rhythm.
A really beautiful poem! I also loved your re-write reflection at the end. 😊✨
Gosh, this was breathtakingly beautiful! And whoaaa you wrote this when you were nine. You're super talented and amazing!
Goodness I love so much about this. This piece just *feels* like spring. And this space you describe.... I can see it, smell it, feel it, hear it, even taste it so clearly. Outstanding work, LC. Both you and 9-year-old you are outstanding writers 👏💙
Beautiful and warmed me up after that snowomyn escapade of yours! 😁 Also, teachers are such idiots!
Beautiful, dreamy and a delight to read.