Tag: Nature

poem #25

April 18, 2021

ivy part II

what was it that you said to me about the moon,
how it had the magnitude to capture our shadows?
were those the exact words that you used?
i can remember the story of the princess,
who became trapped in the moon's reflection
on the surface of the lake.
we each recall the story differently - 
you argue that she was a queen;
i do not think that it matters.

we wander into the forest.
the silence was uncomfortable;
i hesitate just for a moment.
you gently take my hand
and guide me from the path.
i will never find my way back.

the air is thick and pungent,
i'm suffocated.
i can taste wet soil; 
the stench of damp rot and decay.
'not much further,' you say.
i did not know you had a plan.

we came upon a well,
the crumbling stone;
overgrown with ivy.
i felt the wave of unease.
'look down it,' 
i did not hesitate to obey.
it's so deep, is there something down there?
you ask me to imagine falling in.
but that is a game i will not play.

i do not know at what point
you let go of my hand.
it must have been when i turned;
you had already gone.

poem #8

November 11, 2020

the canal in winter

the smell of bonfire
hung thickly in the air
like old velvet curtains.
it was a cold night,
like when you leave 
the freezer door open.

the yellow diaphanous glow
that flooded from windows
was my only illumination,
lighting the path ahead
of a walk i know so well.

people sitting atop their boats
did not notice me.
they smoked and played instruments
and the aroma of piped tobacco
filled my nostrils and
comforted my senses.

poem #6

November 5, 2020

a walk

yesterday, i wandered down Regent's Canal.
for hours i trailed the tapering paths
led by the snaky twists and bends.
sinewy lanes escorted by forget-me-nots,
where water slapped rhythmically against the banks.

how long i walked i could not say,
it must have been at least a day.
how is it possible that i have not
meandered through these tracks before.

until my freedom snatched away,
has forced a need for me to stray,
from the prison i call home
and even though i walk alone
aware the consequences of these strolls
that they have started to impose
for me and roaming rebels alike
that we might one day appreciate,
the precious freedom they can take.

poem #1

October 30, 2020

lake

perceiving a lake in the distance
obscured within a knotted forest.
 the path, at first, appeared quite hidden
 and the lake beyond my clasp.
 so profound were those waters -
 the glass surface glistened and shone,
 but underneath was murky, i faltered:
 what hidden bodies would i unearth?
 the sylvan setting seemed hospitable
 and concealed my lake from view.
 my arms they bled from wading branches
 and following the path i knew.
 determined was i to swim those waters,
 pushing until i could break through.