Not Quite Fern Hill (Poetry Monthly)

Gold cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Thu, 07 Apr 2016
  • 8801 reads
27 comments
 
Still...my favourite place to be...at the top of 'my' hill – where, presently, a keen, easterly April wind chides these brown-frowning furrowed fields, this evening blessed with fawn-light seeks out secret burrows of night’s creatures – trees and bushes wreathed in mists of memories when sunbeams skid on frozen puddles, and gathering fog chokes all sound, until –  slices through the silence the rasp of a muntjak’s bark. It is this hill kept/keeps me sane.  I climb up here to write, most always.  A shack/'summerhouse', courtesy of B & Q’s value range; Narnia’s any place you want it to be and this is mine. Not big enough to swing even the proverbial cat in...so small, needs must it was re-tethered, after transporting itself halfway down the hill in a recent gale. Presently, it has more broken panes of glass than not, but it shelters me from the worst of  a sudden, summer squall. I came up here every day after my daughter lost her long fight with cancer, to feel sorry for myself, to think, to centre myself and to record my thoughts for posterity. As a woman I have learned all there is to know about waiting – smelt the rain, listened to the last rays of sun as they fade, and dreamt of the days I guarded my brood – soft and sleeping. Here, where the pheasants eat Garibaldi biscuits out of my hand...where I watch the stars, run rings around the rings around the moon, I am slowly learning to welcome time, not dread it; wrap it around me like a cloak so its warmth envelops me.  And, right this second, as dusk settles, I remember how it felt; making daisy-chains out of buttercups, wiping two snotty, but adorable button noses, and needing to walk, barefoot through the dew-damp grass, two pairs of redundant Barbie-pink jellies in hand, then scrubbing twenty podgy toes after they’d went and gone, ‘Wee-wee-wee, all the way home’, in the days when, ‘I was young and easy under the apple boughs, about the lilting house and happy as the grass was green’.
 
 
 
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Love

Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Chock-full to bursting with so much to think about, things to laugh about, things to appreciate of your struggles, be drawn back with you to happy memories of young-mother days (but long forgotten the struggles and insecurities of those times). How we all love some solitude, and a place with nature around us, to catch up and enjoy 'taking up the reins' of life with others around again. Enjoyed the concentrated flow of thoughts, and the mind-blowing idea of 'pheasants eating Garibaldi biscuits out of my hand' (one ran straight under the car couple of days ago, no way to avoid it). Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Oh dear, Rhiannon...shame about that pheasant, but they just don't appear to have any ( road  )sense at all, and as you say, they do seem to rather aim themselves ever too readily at oncoming vehicles, that, like yourself, have no chance whatever to avoid them.  

So pleased you enjoyed this piece, Rhiannon, and told me, so very eloquently. 'Taking up the reins of life' again, absolutely spot-on, and 'it' in a nutshell. Very many thanks.

Tina

 

Submitted by airyfairy on

The magic of the not quite everyday.  'Listened to the last rays of the sun' - a wonderful image, and welcoming time as a warm cloak speaks of peace hard won.   A beautiful piece, Tina.

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, af...your words mean much.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Tina,

this is so beautiful and moving. To have found that special place to unwind and be creative, having memories of a past that stays with you forever is priceless.

May you continue to share those memories with us the reader.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Jenny - suffice to say, 'thank you'...from my heart.

Tina

 

Submitted by VeraClark on

An outstanding piece. Deeply emotive, the play with time really upset me - shifting to then and now, the longing to have it again.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Your words more than appreciated, Vera.

Tina

 

Submitted by fidud on

So much in this piece of writing. It is deeply moving, and the quirky style in which you have written it makes it even more poignant.. I think the to-ing and fro-ing between the past and the present allows a kind of healing, Your warmth and love saturate this  piece and help me to try to understand the horror. x

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

...and 'a kind of healing' there surely has to be.  Indebted to you for reading, sharing your thoughts, and your empathy.

Tina

 

Submitted by Starfish Girl on

So full of everything Tina. Beautiful images, love, memories and joy in nature. 

Lindy

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Lindy.  Your words more than appreciated.

Tina

 

 

 

Submitted by jeand on

Hi Tina

What a lovely writing house - and a beautful little story about your experiences there.

Jean

Jean Day

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Absolutely Jean.  Absolutelysmiley  Lovely writing house to be sure.

Tina

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This wonderful dreamy piece is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day (give those pheasants another garibaldi biscuit!)

Get a fantastic reading recommendation everyday. Please share/retweet!

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, insert...you have made me smilesmiley and as for those greedy pheasants, I shall have to make sure I've enough left for myself, firstsmiley

 

Submitted by rask_balavoine on

 I loved those cold sunbeams skidding on the frozen puddles.

Rask

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Sincere thanks to you, Rask.  So pleased you enjoyed.

Tina

 

Submitted by Tom Brown on

"The Force that through the green fuse drives the flower, drives my green age" let your imagination run wild.

Dylan Thomas's work is brilliant it is sad that he died so tragically and young, most of it is grave and serious and about God, his own father, sex and death- (like Bob Dylan). Very litle of it is lighthearted as this "fern hill".

Sorry it sounds like a lecture. I enjoyed your post it's beautiful prose.

Tom

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Tom...lecture away as much as you likesmiley and I am more than pleased this piece inspired you to share your thoughts in such a delightful way.

Have a peaceful evening.

Tina

 

 

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

This is a beautiful description of a place that saves you from yourself. Nature is the buffer that keeps us going by distracting our senses with a constant supply of wonderful things.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Jane - your words are so beautiful ,and true of course, and I thank you for them.

Tina

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

I don't have hills but I do often sit quietly in the fields and watch the wildlife and ruminate. Beautiful writing, much deserved golden cherries. And the line:

I am slowly learning to welcome time, not dread it; wrap it around me like a cloak so its warmth envelops me. 

This says so much, it certainly said something very profound to me.

Edx

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello there, Ed...and just to say on my hill is its extremely windy today, and cold, but the daffodils don't seem to mind...nodding their heads in the sunshine.  The daffodils in these parts seem to have been in flower for at least a couple of months this year, with plenty more to come, so at least it seems they like this chilly weather even if I am impatient for some warmth.

Pleased you enjoyed my ramblings, and I wish you, too, a peaceful Sunday, ruminating in those fields of yours, hopefully, if you have the time.

Tina x

 

Submitted by Tom Brown on

Sounds more pleasant than "rage against the dying of the light."

Cheers

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

I guess it does, Tom...you're right there, but then that marvellous line you have quoted gets ten out of ten for drama, I guess, especially if  there's a power cut in the middle of one's favourite TV programmeangry

Good of you to drop by again.  Thank youwink

Tina

 

Submitted by forest_for_ever on

I too was moved by this peace...actually that was a 'Freudian' typo.  I think I meant 'piece' but the real peace you found fits.

I understand that special place.  I too have one.  The surroundings there seem to possess a magical power; a sort of cocoon that surrounds me.  Sifting out golden memories from such pain is one of the miracles of the mind we will never really understand but will always be grateful for.

Thank you for such a lovely, moving work and for the places it took me too.

forest_for_ever