Best Beechwood Poems
With a basket woven brown, covered in linen, hiding goodies under cross stitched flowers
She with the Crimson Hoodie, and a smile like cookies and cream
Heading for the cottage so cute, and the walls pale white, the smoking chimney raising towers
The forest so dark, and the path so long, Granny waiting like a dream
The aforementioned teen, skipping through the glades, miles from Granny, four
Her laugh so pure, and her stride so sure, swallows soaring high above her head
She smelled the smoke of beechwood ash, as she slowed and tiptoed to Granny’s door
And tapped with a knock like butterfly kisses, and entered upon hearing what her Granny had said.
Her Hood slid back, and her raven hair gleamed, her Granny snuggled under the bedspread blue
The lass placed her basket on the table and eased over to Granny, her arms open wide
Her Gran silent and still, the girl leaned over, about to stroke her loved one true
And when the scruff of grey fur peeked out from the covers, the child leaped over to one side.
The deep gruff voice, and the teeth so long, and the breath so foul, and the growl
The now-wise lass, her arms and legs akimbo, her eyes steeled for combat and pain
She snicked out her blade from under the Hood, and sliced and diced the lupine creature’s jowl
The blood sprayed like summer showers, and then the wolf lay still, to move never again.
Soon she had found and untied Granny from under the bed, and made two cups of camomile tea
Then, nibbling poppy seed muffins and ginger biscuits sweet, as the stench began to flee
Hands washed clean, the sweet young soul apologised for her lateness, after she had deep buried the gory Cur
“My Sensei wanted to see me after Karate class, and he does SO make my small heart Stir. “
Over striding downs with grassy scrub
and into the trees with clumps of shrub
Beechwood,downlands and common heath
in earthy limeston inches beneath
The basil spreading six feet tall
by a freshwater spring ,trickling small
Along shaded lanes with gates and stiles
and wayside pubs,to rest awhile
If we go into the woods today
along the path where bluebells sway,
'neath cool beechwood shade
to our secret ever glade;
Salad and cooked meats to eat,
champagne for this treat,
we'll read,paint or write
of this May day delight
In floral perfume,
nectar gnawing bees who buzz and hum,
honeypots abound as maple syrup magnets flit and taunt,
garlands of magnolia upon the beechwood trellis,
lavender’s light purple trail a mint leaf tract from Cape Verde to Southwest Asia.
Lilac buds perspire on lambs skin swathes,
a misty bleat and frolic over far-flung heather muirs.
Summer breezes pot pourri
the spicy petals while they linger over luscious gardens, so ethereally wed.
Blessed are those senses we’ve been gifted with to revel in that labyrinthine maze whose vivid weave transports an earthly heaven in our midst.
Decaying figures, fragile and forlorn,
on wobbly limbs which maybe feeble be.
With grateful pleas we greet each glowing morn,
then to those youthful times our yearnings flee.
Abreast, we viewed the river sweep along
when swallows built their nests in our beechwood
Mine was a husky sound and yours a song
In squall or sol, companions faithful stood.
Yet, our once charming wonder shall not fade,
nor lose the fondly memoirs we create.
Thus, though are skins now favor pleasant shade,
our spirits breathe to reconcile with fate.
To weep for us would do our glory shame,
for it still lives, that strong unwav’ring flame.
Granted, Karen was on Top of the World,
her passionate voice brought her Close to You,
We've Only Just Begun, her gems hid pearled,
her Rainy Days and Mondays changed our view.
Bless the Beasts and Children, expressed warm peace,
The Night Has a Thousand Eyes, sleep awhile,
to being Solitaire, Walk On By, please,
Make It Easy on Yourself. Rest a spell.
Called the yard to buy a Ticket To Ride,
Beechwood 4-5789,
from San Francisco to LA, Cal's south side,
it was 1980, a younger time.
So long ago, it's Yesterday Once More,
Karen's Goodbye to Love was my top score.