This poem is written in response to proposals to sell ancient public forests to private developers in England. https://saveourwoods.co.uk/
Oh, site where forest now is laid –
Why take the suite of forest dreams?
And live on angry air and claim.
Oh, site where forest now is laid –
Where once was closed the steam railway.
From window glances neighbourly –
Oh, site where forest now is laid –
Why take the suite of forest dreams?
As buttery the birds there sing.
Beyond the piano blossom.
The tall grass listens to the wind.
As buttery the birds there sing.
Note butterflies; many mingle
With industry nestled close.
As buttery the birds there sing.
Beyond the piano blossom.
Ancient forest darkly arches.
It cuts into the history.
And where now the locals’ heart is.
Ancient forest darkly arches.
Why should our thirst for nature parch?
Is for us a tale so sorry.
Ancient forest darkly arches.
It cuts into the history.
I met walkers on rugged path.
Who scarce believed this place could go.
Their dogs knew well the way and back.
I met walkers on rugged path.
We stopped and chatted on these acts.
Here myths and legends, fairies grow.
I met walkers on rugged path.
Who scarce believed this place could go.
Angela Porter is a poet living in England.
Tragically this awful fate is prevalent in so many rustically beautiful places. I felt pensive and forlorn in your described picture. More of the same please,
Thank you, your response is thoughtful. I had a lot to say, about thirty five triolets initially, whittled down to just four.
I am very pleased to read in a local newspaper that the railway could return to the forest in the future.
Angela.