Years are not always kind,
the majestic oaks of memory
turn into fir and ash.
Beautiful enough,
but lessened and transformed
on these retrodden roads.
I shall not go again.
The wild wide river,
fish-filled and sea deep,
now seems unremarkable.
Pretty beneath an old bridge
but no home for pirates,
no barrier to invading armies.
I shall not go again
The deer no longer
sport fourteen point antlers,
don't roar in the rut,
stand mighty in hidden valleys
but shyly beg for bread.
I shall not go again.
I ran and fought,
discovered distant lands,
conquered half the world, here ,
half a life ago
But now a beautiful forest
holds ghosts
of unremembered dreams
and forgotten promises.
I shall not go again.
A contest entry
- Green Rain by tara wilson.
3500 points, ended October 19, 23 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me honestly what you think, good or bad.
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Nature always seems so large and magical when young. I love stanza two so much, i can see and hear the echoes of you as a child playing pirates there. and then the ghosts of the forest...i really love your take on the prompt..this is wonderful poetry, thanks for entering Jeff.
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Damn, it just shows what you can do when you try!
OK, so the line repeated as a refrain shows you are itching to lapse into formal poetry - the elegiac, nostalgic tone would fit neoformalism like a glove - but can write freer poetry and still make it look god on the page.
I like the subtlety of the double meaning of fir(e) and ash, as though time transforms things from how they were in our memory, as if by burning them.
unremembered dreams and forgotten promises seems a wee bit clichéed, but otherwise not bad at all.
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Well done. Thanks for the trip
Passions
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That last line, repeated! So wonderful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! By the end of the first stanza you had so thoroughly hit my heart with pangs of endless sorrow. That beautiful second stanza! "fish filled and sea deep"! what a powerful line! How beautifully you've described the loss of childhood and the growing sense of the mundane that age and sadness brings.
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Nice piece of nostalgia
this poem captures the feeling of loss. How the world has changed in less than a century. it shows us how although things still look serene, that there is something missing. Something hollow. The deer no longer mature, and are now demure. The river no longer wild, but tamed. The fish long since fled or dead. It is a hauntingly sad poem, that reaches out and touches us with gentle reminders that things have changed. Not just for the speaker, but all of us. Rose.
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I think the deer, the trees and the river are unchanged, but I was five the last time I went there, not 50
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Perhaps. I know that the places I went went I was five have changed, though. I grew up on the wild west coast of Canada. Logging, climate change, the pine beetle, hunting, fishing, and man's intrusion into places that were devoid of roads, electricity, garbage, and machinery have made a profound difference. The world has indeed changed - at least it has for me, and your write caught me in that mood. I'm very glad that your world has remained the same, and it is just the eyes of the poet that has changed. An impressive write regardless.
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I'm certain you are right, but my "changed place" is in the New Forest in England and that has been preserved fora very long time
Other places, my local "wild" park is now totally manicured and ruined.
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