Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Norman Crane Oct 2022
hawk stops atop a hornbeam
in an urban copse
leaves falling
how must everything to the hawk seem
a dream in a dream i have seen
him i have been
circling and soaring and
—the snap of a shutting laptop.
spell broken,
hawk on beating wings passing away,
passing she asks, how've you been?
i have been well, i say
i have been well, i say
SiouxF Aug 2020
The woods are calling
Calling my name
Come to us
Be with us
Be one with us

So I packed up my tent and my Ghillie Stove
Put my hiking boots on
And made my way
Into the deep dark woods
The magnificent majestic ancient woods
Full of beech, oak and hornbeam

I felt at peace once again
Amongst my friends
The tree spirits
And wood nymphs.
The realisation of just how at home I feel in the woods, and now I’ve missed it so
A W Bullen Jul 2017
Head notes

Of loam fringed apple trees,
of near-but- nether fuchsia roots
A timeless travel of ridge top tiles.
Steepled spins of weathervanes,
A sobriquet of pre- dawn rainfall.

Heart notes

Of hornbeam,
of coriander deer path.
Memories of bonfire- hope
in ragwort sprays of yearning.
A hint of feelings half remembered.
Of longbows hewn from churchyard yews.
Of rope swings and of scaffold

Base notes

Of river mist.
Poseidon wreaths of furnace ash,
allied to a merlot tint of afterglow release.
Endings are, valerian,
patchouli heads of linen musk.
A lasting peace of closing lawns
that wait approaching snow.
Rich Hues Dec 2020
In a sea of scent
Beyond the reach
Of silver birch
And hornbeam beech,
Beneath a ragged patch
Of deep blue sky,
Adrift on a blanket
You and I.
SiouxF Aug 2020
Where have I come from?
Where am I headed?
What am I doing here?
Does it feed my soul’s desire?
Who am I?
Am I who I want to be?
Am I who I’m destined to be?

Into the woods
Seeking solace and R&R,
Away from civilisation,
And the dreaded mobile phone.
Off grid, switched off and outnumbered by trees,
Explore who I am, what I’m doing, where I’m heading.
At 50
Time to take stock,
Reappraise and reapply,
And fulfil my soul’s path.

How do you do that?
When you don’t know what it is
When you don’t know who you are
When you’ve never truly been you.
Always wanting desperately to fit in,
but never seeming able.
Afraid of being judged,
yet judging too.
Never taking action
for consequential fear.
Drifting through life,
Disassociated,
Disconnected,
Discombobulated,
No surprise.
Disengaged,
Discontented,
Disenchanted.

5 nights in the woods
Just me and my tent.
Walking all day,
Staring in the fire all night.
Sitting in peace and quiet amongst coppice, hornbeam and oak
Seeking answers
With none forthcoming.
Other than taking time out.
And dreaming of
Living the #vanlife
Going where the mood takes me.
No rush, no worries, no cares,
Just me and my camper van
Freedom and
Flexibility.

Travelling on the road,
Meeting kindness of strangers,
Comfy dress down
No airs and graces,
Deep conversations,
Connection,
Move on.
Being the nomadic free spirit,
that’s me.

But is it an escape?
A way to stay disconnected?
A way to not face up to feelings
Of anger and shame?
Or will it be the making of me?
The discovery of me?
The adventurer in me?
Now I’m _starting_ to ask questions, to look inwards, and delve into myself, my purpose, my why, while spending 5 days off grid in the woods, just after my 50th birthday (end July 2020). Querying, seeking, asking questions - all the necessary tools required of the great explorer.
SiouxF Aug 2020
Long since hence these stones be here,
We know not who, what, when or why,
But ancient they sure be,
with their
Power, symbolism and magic
For offer
to all those
with gift to see.

Ignore the disrespect
from the treasure seekers and tourists,
Instead sit,
And stare,
And soak up the
ancient magic and wisdom
From this mystical place.
Rising up from the ground  
Wrapping you lovingly in its sweet embrace.

Note the brightly coloured tree in pride of place.
Tie a coloured ribbon round your body ill,
Then round the branch of the hornbeam tree,
For it will disappear before the next full moon,
Many a truth be told.

Gaze out at North Downs view,
Reminiscent of pilgrims past,
For many a footprint upon footprint lay there,
With many a tale told,
And yet to be told.
It took me a long time to post this, my fourth poem, because it feels really ******, impersonal and unfinished. I never received critique from my mentor, but as it was restricting me not being able to post on here, (as I have committed to sharing my poetry journey), I thought I would just go ahead and share, warts and all. Please be kind! ;-)
Elongated dazzling radiance cast abeam
sensational blinding brilliance
thru eyelids cast agleam
buoyed upon soundcloud airstream
entire corporeal complex edifice

rocked upon gently
shimmering weightless as moon beam
metaphorically floats yours truly
autonomic kickstarting process
since... flagellation enabled conception
circulating, distributing, enervating...

dna chromosomal genetic
data packets craft
lifeforce fueled bloodstream
aforementioned haploid gamete
kinetic, microcosmic, and opportunistic

unbridled, likened, and fashioned bream
identity guarding, glorifying,
edifying dynamic counterstream
crème de la crème
deoxyribonucleic electric kool aid

acid time tested testicular cream
erecting scalar, singular, stellar
survival of fittest
legendary, mandatory, and noteworthy
twenty three and me crossbeam
cast adrift amidst

one after another
continuous pleasant daydream
wafting mysteriously current
squarely bobbing (think sponge)
idyllically, harmoniously, haphazardly
and gently flowing downstream

nimbly manifesting lusciously
kneading jubilantly inescapable
heavenly glorifying dream
begetting coruscating prismatic halo
quintessentially orbiting eyebeam

orchestrating laser inducted fleam
painlessly piercing poetic pulsating gleam
analogous to virtual reality occurring
currently within whirled wide
webbed dammed headstream.

Meanwhile along Battle Creek boughs
tooting, trumpeting tussling,
nonetheless resolute triumphant hornbeam
built barque remains intact amidst every inseam.

Lumbering ship of state seaworthy
in league with moost any other galleon
forging full steam ahead
lake any other mainstream
weathering riveting pond during microbeam.

— The End —