Naked old solitudarian
standing in tatters of scrub oak and hawthorn
bare cover for such unholy inhibition
Neither shot by shell nor shrapnel fragment
far and further still from the western front
all’s quiet in the unruffled moment
but linger on as keeper of the watch
witness the sudden tchik-tchik shot of scarlet top-notch
vivid green livery or pied polka dot
parade-ground sound of drill and drum
ten to forty strikes per second thrum
targeted pandemonium
woodpeckers mine in sheer shafts of bark
dot-to-dot joinery – until owls remark
a barbican grotto for perusing the dark
Another of my snag inspired versifying for Sunday’s Poetry Pantry. And the Midweek Motif on Wednesday will be “Watershed Moments.”
PoetryPix 
Can visualize the woodpeckers …lovely image.
glad you can see them via their impressions
You paint a vidid picture.
thank you – am a bit of a frustrated artist!
I love the rhythm of this..like parading boots or gunfire..sharp…lucid and yet at the root..an enduring and quiet foundation
really like your précis of what I intended – thank you Jae Rose
Your photo combined with your words make the reader ‘see’ the beauty in nature!
an urban poet often dreaming of the pastoral Mary!
When I see woodpeckers I wonder if they have headaches.
then you might like to read why woodpeckers don’t get headaches
This is so vivid and intense.. excellent write 🙂
I like ‘intense’ – such a quiet place but image how noisy it becomes when the bird(s) arrrive
I LOVE the description “naked old solitudarian”. Wow! A wonderful write!
thank you Sherry- took me a while to sum up succinctly how I saw the snag
I like how you tied the woodpeckers sound to be an echo from the past. The war drums that the tree has watched. The memories of nothing new on western fronts.. Somehow I feel that they have seen what we might wish to forget.
far from the western fronts of Verdun & Arras though it looked as if it had been taken from there – a quiet spot in Derbyshire broken by the military sounds of woodpeckers in their artillery practice ground
wow I loved your poem here. you took something from nature and turned it into a fun piece of entertainment.
thank you
beautiful and really well written.. it’s enchanting.
lovely words -thank you!
You know how a solitude person i am …well understood !
not hard to imagine for us ageing ones!
What a fabulous old snag that you have immortalized here Laura…I really enjoyed the feeling and sound of the woodpecker hammering with your wonderful imagery throughout the poem!
thank you – immortalised a good word Donna – the imagery came in a flash but the words took much longer
“Naked old solitudarian
standing in tatters of scrub oak and hawthorn” – lovely: an indelible line of poetry. I really enjoyed this post!
appreciate your appreciation Wendy – thank you!
these kind of guards are often forgotten or taken forgotten – but they ask stories to tell. if only the owls and woodpeckers can share them to us
they will never say!
This reminded me of a camping site from many years ago. Awakening to the drumming hum of the woodpecker who inhabited the place. For three days, I tried to get a photo of him, but he seemed to know what I was up to. Each time I’d lift the camera, he’d hop to the other side of the tree and then peek around to see if I was still there. I never got the photo, but I still laugh at his shenanigans.
Elizabeth
hard to capture these military birds –
Lovely image rife with sound and rthym
Have a nice Sunday
Much love…
thank you Gillena – your comment sums up my aim 🙂
A wonderful ode to the old tree.
gone but not forgotten 😉