Poetry
Comments 4

Down By The Brook

The brook was our boundary marker,

it belonged to my sister and I,

and only us,

because it was only us

that weren’t allowed across.

 

Grown ups could pass.

They could come and go as they please.

With their dogs and their bikes

and their children of their own,

who raced across our boundary

like it didn’t exist.

 

It did exist.

 

On maps it marked a divide,

the line between Ash and Higher Heath.

But even our address forgot that.

 

And the bridge.

It didn’t look like a bridge,

all concreted in with the road.

Squat, fat and grey,

with weeds and grass on top!

 

It was a very unbridgey bridge.

 

But it was my bridge.

My secret, hidden bridge

across my very own moat

that kept out the monsters

lurking in the woods.

 

The first time I crossed

I managed three or four steps.

Then the knots in my stomach got too tight

and the sky seemed too grey

and the day too cold.

 

It wasn’t far,

just far enough that the house disappeared,

hidden by a bend and the trees

and I realised that no one would see me

if the monsters came out of the shadows.

 

For the first time I felt alone

 

 

 

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Written for the Daily Prompt: Crossing

Feedback on this piece would be greatly appreciated. I’m not sure what I think of the ending. I reworked it so much that by the time I landed on this one I was just happy that it didn’t suck as badly as the others.

 

 

 

This entry was posted in: Poetry

by

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.

4 Comments

  1. I really liked the end ‘that was when I fist felt alone’. It crowned the piece, because I had already had a sense of isolation from the description of being behind the boundary. Once I got to the end, I realised your sister was still company so there was some solidarity. Then, once you tested the boundaries yourself you encountered loneliness. This really resonates as I watch my children in the teen years – how in testing and creating their own boundaries they may look like they are in a ‘peer group’ but in fact they are on a solitary journey that maybe all hearts make as we grow. Tenderness.

  2. It is put so beautifully. I absolutely adore the unique idea of writing on a bridge crossing and in the form you put it. In my opinion, the ending is just fine. Keeps the reader’s imagination running though.

  3. Pingback: New Year, New Posts, Same Old Me | Writing and Works

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