Description: Hopefully a poem in it's infancy, striving to become coherent.
The Forest King -------------------------------------------
The forest beckons me
With it's intangible woody silence,
To dark places I go
Immersed in shadow
and leafy fold
Where sun trickles intermittently
Through a canopy
Bejeweled with morning dew,
Dazzling arrays of dancing beams,
Within secret halls
I sit alone---regal
A stump for a throne....
As a child of the forest, I fell in love with this poem. It reminds me of all the days spent in quiet solitude, reading a book under the leaves. I sat and read, breathing the free air of the forest. Love this piece.
I think this is very coherent as it stands and it evokes the calm cathedral awe that such a special place inspires. In BC we are fortunate to have so many spots like you describe, so close at hand. My only wee suggestion is to editout some of the little superfluous filler words that aren't necessary--like "the, and , with--and most pronouns. In this poem, you might remove "it's " from L2, "the " in L3 ( or even replace the bland article with a descriptive such as "cool/fragrant/secret---"[anything that adds a touch more depth] Lines 6/7 could also drop the articles in favor of a descriptive, or another word--or even no word.
I loved the ending too, probably because I relate so well to that "ahhhhhh, this is living feeling.
I moved to the Cariboo last year, and now reside in a 150 year old log cabin on the Quesnel river. Though I spent the previous 10 years in the beautiful Kettle Valley, and the prevous 10 in the Slocan Valley, the call of the forest is always present, and each locale has its own inhabitants, flora and fauna. Here I saw daily the spawning salmon, and could count up to 20 eagles on the short walk to town. There are more moose here, and wild swans as well as the prettiest sunsets I have ever seen.
Even when I grumble about shovelling snow again, or splitting wood when my shoulder doth protest,--I am thankful to be in the thickets rather than the thick it city life.
I have always felt most at home in forests. I am originally from B.C., and I truly miss going for long walks through the forests and sitting on a thick carpet of needles to write a poem. I like the idea of a stump for a throne. You could build on this idea... for some reason I see a children's story of a young boy's imaginary world. Keep up the great work!