Pilgrim blue

photoart_bluebellwood
photoart and poem – ©2018 -Laura Granby

I cannot let this month slip past
like so much dandelion drift
without a nod to bluebell woods
broad oceans under ancient beech
such fragile stemmed parabolas
hung with bells as bait for bees
violet hues in deep blue shade
scentsational is May’s crusade

when cuckoo calls its name we come
well-worn walking sticks in hand
or legless in electric chairs
rebuffed by age on slight inclines
but none must tread on frailty
it’s clear our paths do not converge
we gaze in dazed oblivion
this marvel at meridian
before the seas retreat like grief
and trees make cheerful summer leaf

This year’s pilgrimage was to Ashridge’s bluebell woods

just a few lines in keeping with the simplicity of our Hyacinthoides non-scripta as I’m linking up with others for Poetry Pantry

40 comments

  1. Scentsational – I love that word creation! Makes me feel like I can smell everything encountered on that virtual walk. I might have to borrow that word as I think it would fit quite a few things cooking on the stove 🙂

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  2. Indeed… the fragile, passing (and, often, seemingly simple) things should never be ignored or tread upon. We lose so much when we do. And can rarely get it back…

    Love the words and the photo.

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  3. Once again your poem sings to me….if only one day I could see this in person….

    ‘broad oceans under ancient beech
    such fragile stemmed parabolas
    hung with bells as bait for bees
    violet hues in deep blue shade’

    Love the “scentsational is May’s crusade’

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  4. We have lupine and when they bloom, the meadows are gorgeous–your poem brought back all the lovely times I have had hiking in the wildflowers–really lovely piece!!

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  5. I grew up in England and how this reminded me so much of my childhood glorying in the woods in spring with flowers, animals and that beautiful scent of living. A beautiful poem.

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  6. You’ve done a brilliant job of imbuing this lovely piece with little bits and bobs of rhyme and alliteration – thus, literally, compelling me to read it aloud. It ‘pops’ ,,, it ‘sings’ … it makes me want to go skipping into the nearest woods (if only I, but could ~ sigh~) This is a quite simply, a splendid piece of Poetry.

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  7. I love bluebell woods. We have a few around here; they’re so magical, and you’ve captured that magic in your poem, Laura.I was immediately taken by the opening lines and the ‘dandelion drift’, another favourite thing of mine, and especially love:
    ‘such fragile stemmed parabolas
    hung with bells as bait for bees’
    and
    ‘before the seas retreat like grief
    and trees make cheerful summer leaf’.

    Like

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