Secrets Of Wistman Woods
By skinner_jennifer
- 1831 reads
This is a poem about a small wooded area on
Dartmoor, that is both ancient and otherworldly,
like a secret to be told.
Troubled cobwebs blown away in pensive solitude,
through Wistman's wood trailing plants weave;
branches intertwine a marriage of bliss, they cozy up
to face another uncompromising winter's grip,
limbs bowing to moss swathed boulders where
serpents slither – waiting in dark yawning hollows.
Traverse at leisure if you will, but be weary
lingering after sundown; there's endless tales in
every nook and cranny; while thicker drifts on edge
of moor send mists of warning...mumbled stories to explore,
of bounding howling dogs presenting fear, chasing those
who loiter too long here; yet little wren has no qualms,
busily adept arranging nest in gnarly boughs;
resembling bony twisted finger nails.
Reality and fantasy side by side in this formidable
land survive, where willing oaks together withered
stand, but don't let appearance fool you, they who
seem defeated; command resilience – face combat
in this impending weather, wearing green layer of
nature's mossy canopy unrelenting,
Blending both enchanting and imposing,
revealing echoed murmurs of wood's soul filled
with daylight sunshine; breaking gloomy spell in
awakening of dawn's rays stretching moor's sweet
repose, hearing distant burbling across barren rapture.
Moments / Wistman's Wood - YouTube
Pixabay free image.
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Comments
I liked the photo, Jenny. Is
I liked the photo, Jenny. Is it yours? The light gleaming on the moss adds to the loveliness of those moss-enveloped secret and undisturbed places. It reminded me of walks in such places with soft swathers of beautirul mosses, and those old gnarled oaks reminiscent of the stunted bonsai trees. Their limbs seem the stronger to face the harsh winds, and the moss-covered bolders and roots can look like secretive serpents! Also I was remembering a very damp cleft leading to a waterfall near here.
Rhiannon
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I like the way you have woven
I like the way you have woven the beauty of nature with the implied supernatural. Some great lines, of course. "... formidable land survive". A super poem.
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great photo. great poem,
great photo. great poem, jenny.
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Hi Jenny
Hi Jenny
Again, what a beautiful and yet rather scary picture you paint, of nature at its best.
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Inspired by your poem, I
Inspired by your poem, I looked up this woods, I think we walked round it once, when on holiday (but didn't dare go in!). We went often to Dartmoor. My brother and I never forgot it :0) Your poem is wonderrful, you really conjure up the tangled, ancient feeling, the layers of lives, past and present, the shifting of truths into tales, like leaves drifting. I love your use of "cozy up". You are so good at expressing a feeling of community in trees!
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It must be 45 years or so
It must be 45 years or so since we went! And even then, the last few years there were loads more people. I remember we had arrived somewhere magnificent after a very long walk, (for us, anyway, my youngest brother was about six I think) and all imagining Bronze Age warriors/Elves/druids/ghosts (we all liked different stories) settled down with our picnic, feeling like we were as remote a place as it was possible to be, then a string of people in bright lycra jogged past :0) I expect they felt the same about us!
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