marked by cloven clamouring
insatiable satyrs and the pursuer, Pan
resistance etched in your scarring
dyed-in-the-wood maiden
hand-in-hand with nemesis goes
the worm through fleshy underside
stripping bark, sickening the rose, *
dryad choice of bride or suicide
masked foresters and their careless hands
armoured in dismembering chains
shall scatter to the meadowlands
sawdust and firewood remains
yet cloaked in woodland the snag persists
keeping solitary naked trysts
© Laura Granby 2015
With a bow and a nod to William Blake* , am joining in with Poetry Pantry on Sunday.
Whew. Vivid and intense. Especially the worm through flesh. I think what was most striking was the thought they were doing a good thing.
LikeLike
thank you – worms are all part of the cycle though Blake took a less philosophical view!
LikeLike
I’ve read back through a few posts and would have left you more comments, but your comments are closed on all but the most recent post. Anyway, I’m absolutely giddy over having found you. I love your work.
LikeLike
thank you – closed comments reduce spam apparently 😉
LikeLike
bit wary of that comment.
From a Tamil Airport?
LikeLike
very odd Diana – hence my heavily hinted reply 😈
LikeLike
“masked foresters and their careless hands”….no wonder there are so many “sick rose”s…
LikeLike
took me a while to understand why the rose was sick!
LikeLike
Love the first stanza in particular and that final line, “keeping solitary naked trysts” is brilliant too 🙂
LikeLike
thank you – its interesting how the stanzas change whilst I try to hang on to the thread 😉 needed that last stanza to hold it in place
LikeLike
yet cloaked in woodland the snag persists
keeping solitary naked trysts
Stellar closing lines 🙂
LikeLike
stellar comment – thank you ❤
LikeLike
Those snags have great power of endurance. Well done.
LikeLike
apparently they can stand for years – deadwood still good!
LikeLike
Somehow the snag remains to tell us of our own folly as wells as myths and legends.. lot of stories there. Ha, the poetry writing on a Sunday was an interesting connection to what I had written,
LikeLiked by 1 person
your comment resonates Bjorn – the snag is looking back at the folly of youth -p.s. really loved what you wrote for toads!
LikeLike
I can really picture this!
LikeLike
I need the pictures to prompt the poems 🙂
LikeLike
together, like the left and right hand, picture and words unfold a story
LikeLike
they have Midas touch – sadly it doesn’t end up turning to gold
LikeLike
maybe the dust is gold for the next generation
LikeLike
You never cease to amaze me with your images and strong words here Laura….the poor snag left to the worms and perhaps another forester greedy for scarred wood.
LikeLike
thank you Donna for your lovely comment – I fear the worms caused the snag- as gardener you might be interested in bark beetles
LikeLike
Your poem reminds me of the secret life of woods we find in so many myths and legends.
LikeLike
trees are probably my most common muse too 🙂
LikeLike
I need to think about this a little longer. In the meantime, the poem and the photo are perfect companions. The tree is still standing, and the poem is paying it homage.
LikeLike
yes Beth – a kind of triumph against the vicissitudes of myth and moment
LikeLike
Yes indeed, all there to be seen (or envisioned).
LikeLike
😎
LikeLike
This piece certainly left me with more questions and shadows – perfect for those of us you love the forest of fairy tale thoughts…
LikeLike
so true – the figure of the tree itself stirred the myth
LikeLike
A very strong image you’ve created. Love the idea of Pan and the dryads
LikeLike
might have been the greek crisis which evoked Pan too!
LikeLike
Thought provoking piece, especially in that penultimate verse 🙂
Leo @ I Rhyme Without Reason
LikeLike
thank you! cannot help but wonder what will become of this rather fine piece of deadwood – perhaps a little pessimistic for the future so made the present more palatable
LikeLike
You make Blake proud… 🙂
LikeLike
– and you made my day – thank you!
LikeLike