The Enchanted Wood (Part 1)
Within the moonlight raptures
where the imps and fairies play
deep within the enchanted wood
where no lovers ever enter
especially after dark,
They say there is a witches curse
that will befall all who enter.
Once you have entered
you will never be seen
or heard of again.
Thus, so it has been
throughout the centuries,
a place where no one goes.
Once a poor orphan
with rags upon his feet
had nothing to gain or lose
started walking down the path
that leads to the enchanted wood.
People yelled a him to stop,
but their voices he ignored
and stepped across the threshold
and into the enchanted wood.
He saw no dangers as he walked,
but heard whispery voices
and could have sworn
hidden eyes followed his every move.
Deeper into the wood he walked
he had no fear of being forgotten
as he had no one to begin with
and the witches curse meant nothing.
Finally he came to a clearing
where he stopped and rested for a while,
he leant against a tree
closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Upon wakening, he felt
that there was something wrong.
He looked around
but there was no one to be seen.
As he stood up, he noticed
that all his clothes he wore
were no longer rags but brand new.
“You cannot marry a princess
wearing rags my boy.”
Said a voice from above him.
He looked up and all there was an owl.
“Don’t worry laddie
I am the one who is speaking.
Now if you will follow me.”
The owl then swooped down
and flew in front of him.
He followed the owl
deeper into the enchanted wood.
He questioned not his guide,
but just followed him quietly.
He wondered what was going on
a princess, a wedding
and of course, a talking owl
and what of the witches curse?
The owl suddenly landed
and looked up at the lad.
“What is your name laddie? ”
“Charles Hamilton, Mr Owl.”
“Yonder you see that Castle,
you must go there,
they are waiting for your arrival.”
“But how did they know I was coming? ”
“Never mind that you just keep walking.”
The owl said and flew off.
The lad did as he was told
and slowly the castle grew closer.
He could hear trumpets sound
as he neared the main gate.
“Who goes there? ” A stern voice asked.
“Charles Hamilton.” The lad replied.
“Lord Charles has arrived! Lord Charles has arrived! ”
To be continued:
16 April 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 2)
The great gates of the castle opened
and slowly he walked forward
not sure what to expect.
Cheers rang out as he entered
trumpets blared a fanfare.
He stopped to take it all in,
everywhere he looked
people waved and smiled
as he moved slowly
across the large courtyard
and through the throngs of people
and into the castle itself.
“If you will follow me M’ Lord.”
A tall smartly dressed man said.
He followed the tall man
across the marble floor.
The man stopped by a door.
He opened it to reveal
a long table filled with food.
“We suspected you may be hungry,
please enter and help yourself.”
He had never seen so much food.
He entered, sat, and noticed he was alone.
“Eat as much as you like M’ Lord,
it is all for you.” The tall man said,
and then disappeared.
Not wishing to be greedy
he took a small portion of the food
and when he had eaten enough.
The tall man suddenly appeared again.
“A drink M’ Lord.” He said
and placed a glass in front of him
and filled it with water.
As he raised the glass to his lips and drank,
the tall man appeared again
“Your room is ready M’ Lord.”
He nodded and yawned
then followed the tall man
to what would be his room.
“I’ll wake you in time for supper M’ Lord.”
He climbed onto the large bed
wondering what was happening.
“Why do you look so worried laddie? ”
“Mr Owl where did you come from? ”
“The window was open
so I came to see how you were.”
“I am puzzled Mr Owl.”
“In what way laddie? ”
“Everyone is so kind to me
and I feel I don’t deserve it.”
“Oh poppycock! ” The owl replied.
“But I don’t deserve it.”
“Laddie, everyone deserves kindness
no matter who they are.”
“I am cursed by the witches curse.”
“Rubbish, there is no curse
and there are no witches,
but all will be explained later.”
“How much Later? ”
“When the time is right.
Now you must rest before supper.”
He nodded and rested back.
It was the first time
he ever slept on a pillow.
“Wake up! Wake up!
You will be late for supper.”
He opened his eyes
and looked around
to see who was talking.
He blinked as a set of clothes
walked over to him and said:
“We are what you are wearing
for supper tonight.”
“Clothes do not talk! ”
“Ah, but we do and so do we.”
All the clothes then danced
around the room.
Standing he looked amazed
and somewhat in disbelief
as the clothes flung themselves
at him and dressed him.
Once they had finished
he looked in the mirror at his reflection,
he looked like a prince.
The tall man suddenly appeared and announced.
“Dinner will be ready in five minutes,
you must come along now.
There is no time to waste M’ Lord.”
He followed the tall man down the stairs
to the dinning room door.
To be continued.
17-18 April 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 3)
As the door opened, he could see
the room was filled with people.
They looked at him as he entered
everyone smiled saying good evening.
He was ushered to the top of the table
and seated beside a beautiful young woman.
Her smile radiated the room
with light and warmth.
“Hello, you must be Lord Charles
my husband to be.
I am Princess Juliet.”
Her voice flowed through him
like a river of tranquillity.
At first, he was not sure
just what to say to her.
He stumbled over his words
and it made her laugh.
Suddenly he was at ease
and it seemed they were
the only two in the room
and when he looked around,
they were the only two
everyone else had disappeared.
As they chatted he felt at home,
a home he could only have wished for.
They ate and talked
and when they had finished
the food and the dishes disappeared.
Suddenly as if by magic,
an orchestra began playing.
They got up and danced
and danced and danced
into the late evening.
They then took a stroll
into the garden in the moonlight,
walking arm in arm.
They stopped briefly,
where he stole a kiss.
As he awoke the next morning,
he could not remember much
of the night before
only that he had met his princess
and had a wonderful time.
“I am your clothes for today.”
He looked around as the clothes
suddenly threw themselves at him
and suddenly he was dressed.
“I see you are ready M’ Lord.”
“Ready for what? ”
“Your wedding M’ Lord.”
He followed the tall man
down the stairs
and out into the courtyard
where a carriage pulled by six white horses
stood waited for him.
He stopped and looked around
apart from the crowds of people
white doves danced
pirouettes in the sky.
They looked golden
as the sun painted them
with its warming rays.
Flags and pennants of different colours
hung out from everywhere.
From the Cathedral, church bells filled the air
as the carriage moved slowly
along the cobble stone streets
lined with people either side.
He sat and waved at them
through the window of the carriage
as the procession passed.
Within a few minutes,
they arrived at the great city Cathedral.
As he stepped from the carriage,
there seemed a party atmosphere everywhere.
Entering the Cathedral
the serine voices of the choir
rose up to the rafters
as the Cathedral bells
could be heard across the hamlets.
The pews were filled
from front to back.
He stood at the alter
waiting for his bride to be.
He felt that this must be all a dream
and in a moment, he would awake
back to the harsh realities of his life.
Then the organ announced of the brides arrival.
To be concluded
18-19 April 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 4)
All eyes turned towards the back
as the bride made her entrance.
Six small bluebirds held
up her long flowing train
as she moved down the centre isle
towards her husband to be.
Standing side by side,
they took their weddings vows
and when they were pronounced,
man and wife a great cheer rang out
that could be heard across the land.
They rode back through the throngs
of well-wishers who lined the route.
Everywhere everyone was smiling
for the happy couple.
It was a joyous occasion
celebrated by everyone
and all the creatures everywhere.
Arriving back at the castle
an old man with a long white beard
waited there to greet them.
He smiled as they moved towards him.
He first kissed the Princess
and whispered a few words in her ear
and she left them as the old man
took her husband to one side.
Putting his arm around his shoulders
lead him to a quiet area
where they both could talk.
“Do you want to go back? ” The old man asked.
“No sir, I do not.
The old man nodded.
“Then you shall stay here forever
with the happiness you have found.”
“But I am cursed, sir.”
The old man smiled and shook his head.
“You were never cursed.
You came here because you were lonely.
Only sad and lonely people
ever enter the enchanted wood.”
“But I don’t understand.”
Only love prevents the others entering
and you had none, but a lot to give.”
“You now have all your wishes
and all your dreams here.
For the first time in your life,
you have friends, someone to love,
and a world as big as you want it
to roam and explore.
Now go to your wife and enjoy your life
the way you always wanted it.”
The old man smiled and then vanished.
He went to his wife
and gathered her in his arms.
They walked to the top of the castle.
Standing together, they looked out
across the enchanted wood and the land beyond it.
Like the curse said
he never went back,
nor did he want to.
He now lives happily in the world
of his wishes and dreams
with his Princess and his friends.
One day in your dreams,
you might catch a glimpse
of him with his Princess
happy together forever.
The End
poem by David Harris
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Rags & Old Iron
Norman curtis, oscar brown jr
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
I heard that old rag man now making his rounds
He came right to my alley lord with sorrowful sounds
Crying rags old iron and pulling his cart
Ask him how much hed give me for my broken heart
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
So I asked that old rag man how much he would pay
For a heart that was broken baby when you went away
For a burnt out old love light that no longer beams
And a couple of slightly used second hand dreams
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
For those big empty promises you used to make
For those memories of you that are no longer sweet
I wish he could haul them off down the street
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
When love doesnt last tell me what is it worth
It was once mamas most precious possession on earth
When I asked that old rag man if hed like to buy
He just shook his head and continued to cry
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron rags old iron
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vampires and Romance
In the enchanted green forest
far beyond the sparkling castle
far beyond the kings gardens
the princess had arrived
the enchanted forest, is filled
with unicorns and yellow lizards
fairy magic and blue wizards
wolves and bears who give hugs
the princess sought a new fix
vampires and romance don't mix
'seek and you shall find' came
the voice of the blue wizard-
to take care of romeos affection
use my specially prepared concoction
with a 100% money back guarantee
all new ingredients from the dead sea
hmm thought the princess
I shall take this concoction
for tonight there is a date
he will soon meet his fate
poem by Rachel Nichols
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Rise Of The Enchanted
Enchanted words, and enchanted saying, enchanted words that has no meaning. Enchanted words that goes afar, enchanted saying that brings you to the stars. Rise of the enchanting is beautiful as my Lord, for it is as seeing into a woman's eyes, and love at first sight, everything is now on one accord. This is the freedom men as spoken of the freedom to be, enchanted with the mind for all to see. For as others have tried many have surpassed, the diverse mind that comes with many tests. What is the enchantment of which you so humbly speak, for it is freedom, the freedom of the meek. For I am enchanted but holding back I shall, until I show my true feelings for one I can appeal. I am enchanting and I am free, but not free to be, as tough it is my ecstasy, but I have the freedom, because freedom is free, but not enchanted I may not be, for to be free I have to be enchanted, because to be enchanted is to be free. May I be enchanted grant me thee, shall I be enchanted, shall I be free, for this is my rise, this is my plea, this is my enchantment I always wanted to see, the enchantment within me, my rise of enchanting, the enchantment for all to agree, because finally I am free.
poem by Augustus Gatlin
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Walking The Dog
It was Russ’s leaving day
and we waited for him to arrive.
Len suggested that Russ
was probably walking the dog.
Sandra was using Big Brother
trying to locate him on the internet,
but could only get a picture up of him
of when he was young and looked like Tony Blair.
Len again suggested that Russ
was probably walking the dog.
Terry was touching up
his three steps to heaven
that Russ could practice on
to get back his Arnie Sweatyknicker physic.
David was bagging up the off cuts of wood
in a black dustbin bag
and still the Popemobile had not arrived.
Sarah dropped in to say hello and goodbye
to the leaving soul and was surprised
that Russ had not arrived.
Len again said he suspected Russ
was out walking the dog.
Then they heard it arrive, the white Popemobile.
Everyone looked out the window
and saw Russ’s upper torso sticking up through the roof
as he was practicing the Queen’s wave to everyone.
Further surprises were in store
when the Popemobile parked
and his dog opened the driver’s door.
The dog was driving and had taken Russ for a ride.
No one could understand the smoke stack
that curled out the back window
until Russ explained it was the new heating system,
a wood burning stove on the back seat.
What happened to the central heating? Terry asked.
The dog did not like it and threw it out as he drove.
He felt better with a bit of wood to chew as he drove.
Now he had arrived
and before he could do anything
he just had one job to do
and that was,
WALK THE DOG.
poem by David Harris
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I Am Visited By An Editor And A Poet
I had just won $115 from the headshakers and
was naked upon my bed
listening to an opera by one of the Italians
and had just gotten rid of a very loose lady
when there was a knock upon the wood,
and since the cops had just raided a month or so ago,
I screamed out rather on edge—
who the hell is it? what you want, man?
I’m your publisher! somebody screamed back,
and I hollered, I don’t have a publisher,
try the place next door, and he screamed back,
you’re Charles Bukowski, aren’t you? and I got up and
peeked through the iron grill to make sure it wasn’t a cop,
and I placed a robe upon my nakedness,
kicked a beercan out of the way and bade them enter,
an editor and a poet.
only one would drink a beer (the editor)
so I drank two for the poet and one for myself
and they sat there sweating and watching me
and I sat there trying to explain
that I wasn’t really a poet in the ordinary sense,
I told them about the stockyards and the slaughterhouse
and the racetracks and the conditions of some of our jails,
and the editor suddenly pulled five magazines out of a portfolio
and tossed them in between the beercans
and we talked about Flowers of Evil, Rimbaud, Villon,
and what some of the modern poets looked like:
J.B. May and Wolf the Hedley are very immaculate, clean fingernails, etc.;
I apologized for the beercans, my beard, and everything on the floor
and pretty soon everybody was yawning
and the editor suddenly stood up and I said,
are you leaving?
and then the editor and the poet were walking out the door,
and then I thought well hell they might not have liked
what they saw
but I’m not selling beercans and Italian opera and
torn stockings under the bed and dirty fingernails,
I’m selling rhyme and life and line,
and I walked over and cracked a new can of beer
and I looked at the five magazines with my name on the cover
and wondered what it meant,
wondered if we are writing poetry or all huddling in
one big tent
clasping assholes.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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The Helmsman
O be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.
We fled inland with our flocks.
we pastured them in hollows,
cut off from the wind
and the salt track of the marsh.
We worshipped inland—
we stepped past wood-flowers,
we forgot your tang,
we brushed wood-grass.
We wandered from pine-hills
through oak and scrub-oak tangles,
we broke hyssop and bramble,
we caught flower and new bramble-fruit
in our hair: we laughed
as each branch whipped back,
we tore our feet in half-buried rocks
and knotted roots and acorn-cups.
We forgot—we worshipped,
we parted green from green,
we sought further thickets,
we dipped our ankles
through leaf-mould and earth,
and wood and wood-bank enchanted us—
and the feel of the clefts in the bark,
and the slope between tree and tree—
and a slender path strung field to field
and wood to wood
and hill to hill
and the forest after it.
We forgot—for a moment
tree-resin, tree-bark,
sweat of a torn branch
were sweet to taste.
We were enchanted with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass—
in the shorter grass—
we loved all this.
But now, our boat climbs—hesitates—drops—
climbs—hesitates—crawls back—
climbs—hesitates—
O, be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Princess And The Black Horse -I(Journey To Unknown)
It was a faded moonlit-night.
The wood near was very dark,
as it was too thick, dense so,
You won't see if anyone does lurk.
The princess was riding on her horse...
along the lone pass of the wood,
her father was usurped from throne,
then in captivity, she only did brood,
How to retrieve her father's honor,
and give him back his crown!
She needed the aid of neighbor king
and the help of his army around.
The night was getting dark and dark...
The howls of the wolves were heard.
The world of light, fun and frolic,
wasn't there, she was without guard.
Ah! the horse stopped as, he was afraid.
His harness bell rang breaking silence,
The princess asked -'Blackberry,
dear, why are you frightened hence? '
'N-e-i-g-h, n-e-i-g-h, 'he called princess,
The princess, patted on his back and
'Don't worry, you are the king's horse, '
said she and took out from girdle a wand.
'After midnight it'll work, ' told court sorceress.
She then touched the wand on horse's swan neck.
Wow! he turned into a handsome winged bird!
She rode on him and flew till night did break.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Died of Wounds
His wet white face and miserable eyes
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell
His troubled voice: he did the business well.
The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining
And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood!
‘It’s time to go. O Christ, and what’s the good?
‘We’ll never take it, and it’s always raining.’
I wondered where he’d been; then heard him shout,
‘They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don’t go out...
I fell asleep ... Next morning he was dead;
And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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In Contact With An Angel
Still asleep in beautiful repose
A knock I heard on my door
Guess the intruder was to the door very close
Cos at my inquiry his voice, though pale became as bold as ore
I, opening my door looked at the little God-created creature
As he stood helplessly like a log of wood
Please sire, he asked in a well-mannered nature
Can you, if you don't mind offer me some food?
God! , he was clad in a garment, so poor
And he looked so cold as snow
How could I now deny him of what he asked for?
Though yonder he came from I don't know
Please, the little stranger asked again
I know you know not me
But please help quench this hunger, this pang of pain
And I ever shall be grateful to thee
As I lay before him a luscious dinner
He looked at the delicacies turn by turn
A smile creased over his cheek like that of a winner
And before long he devoured it all one by one
And suddenly, the little boy in transfiguration turned white
Thank you for helping an angel says he to me
And in a deep bow ascended with the speed of light
And as I stood awe-struck I beheld what I had seen
Wow, I had helped a blessed creature
What a blessed creature I am, I said to myself.14: 59: 31.15/11/10
poem by Olajide Ajibola
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Barren Land
As I walked upon a barren land
I saw pain and destruction from man's hand
What once was alive, no longer did thrive
And what once had stood no longer did stand.
Everywhere that I looked, I saw only death
With no pain, or remorse, or even regret.
GOD must had surely forgotten this place
As all that I felt and saw was hate and waste
No birds were flying, and angels were crying
Faith and hope must of left here in a haste.
I looked and I thought, I tried to care
But I didn't, so I cursed, I did not say a prayer
I began to hear voices as I walked
They started out as whispers then they talked
Persons were nowhere, voices were everywhere
I was being asked to 'not forget' as I was stalked.
Forget what? I then thought to myself
Were the voices from heaven, or were they from hell.
I looked at my hands they were now covered with blood
The boots that I am wearing are now covered with mud
Then I tried to recall, any memories at all
Then they rush back to my mind like a ravenous flood.
I was a soldier, and I fought in a war that day
But I was dead, and I forgot, and to eternity I had lost my way.
poem by Randy McClave
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To One Who Pleaded For Candour In Love
HERE is the dim enchanted wood
Your face, a mystery divine,
But half revealed, half understood,
Appears the counterpart of mine.
Beyond the wood the daylight lies;
Cruel and hard, it lies in wait
To steal the magic from your eyes
And from your lips the thrill of fate.
Ah, stay with me a little while
Here, where the magic shadows rest,
Where all my world is in your smile
And all my heaven on your breast.
Ah no!--cling close, what need to move,
What need to advance or explore?
We came here blindly, led by love,
Who will not lead us any more.
Thank God that here we two have stood,
Thank God this shade was ours to win;
Time with his axe has marked our wood
And he will let the daylight in.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Dance
As I was walking one day
on some trail long forgotten
I looked out in the distance
and watched a ghost
of an Indian appear
as others followed behind him
then I heard the drums play
through the wind softly
and they started to dance
The closer I drew near
thier song and images
only became more clear
the first, who was the most wise
he stopped but only for a moment
and with wisdom in his eye's
turned and looked at me
and this is what he said
We dance this dance forever
for those days still ahead
for days of peace and balance
that one day all live in harmony
as one creation together
the way we once lived back then
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sports Day 1962
It was sports day
at high school
and the field and tracks
were crowded with
teachers and kids
and the sun was out
causing sweat
and heat rash
and Reynard said to you
that girl who fancies your ass
is waving to you
over by the small wood
of trees and bushes
so you looked over
and saw Christina
waving a hand at you
leaping up and down
her short gym skirt
rising and falling
as she leaped
showing off
now and then
her dark green panties
mind she don't eat you
Reynard said
and walked off
to watch the races
as you wandered over
to where she stood
at the edge
of the small wood
don't you look
the sexy beast
in your black shorts
she said
eyeing you over
her right hand smoothing
down your white tee shirt
are you running?
she asked
yes a short sprint
you replied
anything more than that
and I'm buggered
she looked at the field
holding her hands
in front of her
and you gazed
at her white legs
and white ankle socks
and black plimsolls
I'm in the relay race
she said
I‘ll have to watch
to see when my turn comes
then she turned to you
and said
have you been inside the wood?
you looked behind you
no not so far have you?
yes we went there
in science looking for bugs
and such
she said
maybe you could show me
you said
what?
bugs and flowers
and butterflies
you replied
she smiled at you
maybe but teachers might be watching
or other kids or prefects
and what if my brother Cedric
sees us enter
and tells my parents?
just a science tour
to see all nature's gifts
you said
tell them that
if any see us go
and you watched her
fumble with her fingers
looking around the field
and whispered softly
no.
poem by Terry Collett
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4. Well Rattled
The cowboys all dug a large pit
Around which some boulders did fit
Then piled up the wood which lit
To keep the cold out where they sit
One went to fetch some more wood
His trail boss said he thought he should
A nice dry pile that looked real good
Where snakes liked hide if they could
The wind got up spooking the cattle
It hid the slight sound of a rattle
From wood came the snake to do battle
And all the cowhand did was prattle
Vexed the snake started to slide
The cowhands fear he could'nt hide
He stood there with legs open wide
And now the poor cowboy can't ride
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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The Tree
In an English forest on Nottingham’s Sherwood National Park
stood a large wide oak tree probably as old as the Ark.
Oddly enough I had never seen this old proud tree before,
it sort of pulled me to it, as though it wanted me to explore.
I slowly walked around the trunk and looked closely at the tree
admiring its form, its wrinkled bark, every inch fascinated me.
My fingertips touched its bark and felt its rugged texture and shape,
it seemed so alive, and I was overwhelmed for heavens sake.
The sturdy trunk appeared to be expanding and growing ever wide,
then I thought I heard a child’s voice coming from deep inside.
Against the deeply wrinkled bark I placed my hands and ear,
just in case by some strange chance a voice I really did hear.
It seems as though I heard nothing so I gradually stepped away,
as I did the tree trunk looked as if to shrink, shudder and sway.
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief; I couldn’t believe what I’d seen
I reached out and touched it to make sure it wasn’t a dream.
Several times I stepped back and forth from this unusual tree,
seeing it expand and contract was becoming too much for me.
On my last step backwards I definitely heard a child’s voice say,
“Help me, help me, I’m trapped in here, please don’t go away.”
Without thinking I answered, “What are you doing inside the tree?
How long have you been in there and can’t you get free? ”
Sadly she said, “I don’t know how long I’ve been in here,
but I can’t get out will you please help me to get clear.”
The little girl started crying and pleaded with me to stay,
“Please don’t go, please help me, please try to find a way? ”
“Try to stay calm, ” I said, “I’ll examine the tree once more,
you found your way in, so there must be a kind of door.”
As I closely examined the tree I asked the child her name,
“Martha, I’m six years old and my mother’s name’s the same.”
To stop her fretting more I asked what colour shoes she had on.
“I have no shoes upon my feet somehow they have gone.”
“I’m sorry Martha I cannot find a way in I’ve looked and I’ve tried
I just don’t know how you managed to get yourself inside? ”
Sobbing she said, “I don’t know either, but it seems like a very long time.
Could you possibly look inside the tree? You could if you climb.”
“Alright Martha, I’ll climb up to that branch sticking out to my right.
I’m sorry there is no way into the trunk; and soon it will be night.
Let’s go over this again and try to remember how you got inside.”
“All I can remember was lying in the tall grass, trying to hide.”
“Were you playing the game of hide and seek with your friends? ”
“No, my father told me to hide and later my mother he would send.
It’s slowly coming back to me now I had also been hit on my head
I remember I went very dizzy and then everything else went red.
I woke up with a headache and found myself inside this tree,
I never saw my mummy she must have forgotten me.”
“Now then Martha did this happen recently, or was it some time ago
was it yesterday, a couple of days since, or a fortnight or so? ”
“No, I think it must have been longer because of the way you’re dressed
I’ve never seen anyone with clothes like yours; you do so look a mess.”
“How can you see me Martha, is it through a nut-hole in the tree? ”
“No, I can see you through the bark, as you are meant to be.”
“Is it dark inside the tree trunk, or can you see any light? ”
“Well, It’s not wet, it doesn’t smell, but it is as dark as night,
but high above there is some sort of lamp shining really bright.”
“Alright Martha, if you can get to it, a way out is in sight.”
“Hello, hello, you standing outside the tree, can you hear me?
Thank you. I’ve entered the light and my daddy I can see.
I didn’t realise he was so close I could have climbed up here before
and how I got inside the tree will be a mystery for evermore.”
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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