Poetry
Comments 43

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.

 

This entry was posted in: Poetry

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Carol Forrester is a twenty-three year old writer trying to be a better one. Don’t ask her what her hobbies are because the list doesn’t get much beyond, reading, writing and talking about the same. She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University and various poems and stories scattered across the net. Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry’s. Most recently, her poem ‘Sunsets’ was featured on Eyes Plus Words, and her personal blog Writing and Works hosts a mass of writing from across the last five years. She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and is always open to writing more and hosting guest bloggers here on Writing and Works. With hopes of publishing a novel in the next five years and perhaps a collection or two of smaller works, Carol Forrester is nothing if not ambitious. Her writing tries to cover every theme in human life and a lot of her work pulls inspiration from her own eccentric family in the rural wonders of Shropshire life.

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 feel the skeleton of the earth underneath this, Carol…fragile backbone, bended knee, needing us to protect her. Well done.

  3. Very subtle message ~ I specially like the refuse from someone else pockets ~

    Thanks for joining us Carol ~

  4. Sherry Blue SKY says

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

  5. Suzanne says

    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.

  6. 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

  7. 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.

  8. 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.

  9. ShirleyB says

    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.

  10. 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!

  11. EventuAlly..
    tools of human
    extending being
    reclaimed by
    Nature as
    hers
    ALLONE..
    Star dUst
    we come from
    Dust of Pyramids
    we go to
    come
    backs
    Nature..:)

  12. Nature ultimately and gradually fills in…in spite of all that washed up refuse from someone’s empty pocket…very well said…

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