Bluebell Wood

In the woods there are houses

and bricks like broken teeth,

pockmarks in the bramble thorns and climbing ivy,

vines like fingers, tucked in deep on walls

battered and spat into tumble-down ruins

sinking further into the banks

where the river coils and drifts

between the reeds and weeds

and the washed up refuse

of someone’s empty pockets,

as the sky passes over

those flickers from the undergrowth

until it all, eventually, grows still.

 

dverselogo

I was really stuck for what to write for this prompt and in the end this was about all that I could manage. I’m not sure if it fits exactly with the style of ‘ecopoetry’ but I’m hoping I managed to get the mix of human and nature into this piece.

 

43 Comments

  1. Our garbage but still, nature takes it back – inch by inch, vine by vine, tree root by tree root. Wonderful writing to the prompt.

    those flickers from the undergrowth
    until it all, eventually, grows still.

    Yes, you most definitely met the prompt!

  2. I think you did very well. I especially liked the description of the river drifting between the reeds.

  3. What a pretty scene you paint with your poetic words – the ending is so sad though. It is terrible how delicate places of natural beauty are constantly turned into housing estates.

        1. That’s a shame. They’re amazing to see in full force. It literally looks like a sea of blue flowers all clustered together and in the breeze it’s so pretty to watch them bob and dance.

  4. So much of our roadways are littered with all kinds of things and towns and back alleys left, abandoned..what a waste of space and your poem strikes home with the bricks and

  5. I remember bluebells woods when I was a child. I have caught glimpses of their beauty in Norfolk, but there aren’t many left in South London/Surrey, where I come from. I like the way you have them in the title but they have been obliterated by someone else’s refuse in the body of the poem. Clever and effective.

  6. The imagery here is excellent. The crumbling, pockmarks, vine like fingers……the idea of refuse piling up or hiding below the waters of a freshwater stream……humanity’s pockmark upon our woods and streams.
    Your description says it all.

  7. As a newcomer, I’m tickled pink to be finding so much quality work here, and this is right up there with the best. Brilliant.

  8. It’s very powerful and with lots of growth and then the ending ‘grow’ still. It’s amazing how really inspiring poems can bubble up or grow from some of these Dverse prompts!

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