Description: Thanks to nan for her helpful comment and helpful suggestion. Is this any better?
The taste of Sequoia -------------------------------------------
Great trees tower above me
as I lay on Ashton Court grass
What a word to curl around the tongue.
Taste the syllables in your mouth.
What a beautiful sound
and how strange
to find a Californian redwood
in an English country house garden.
They circle the ornamental pond
where the yellow irises grow
and cast their reflection in the water.
Only two hundred years old
young yet for a Sequoia.
Many of our own oaks
even some in this park
are older. I f their leaves
make a sound in the wind
they are too far away,
I cannot hear them
alone, lost in silence
beneath the sequoia
The base of their trunks
would make a dining-room table for ten
but what a desecration
to cut one down.
My mind cannot comprehend
their older cousins.
Their branches lean towards me
as I lay in the afternoon sun
the interplay of light creates
a thousand shades of green.
How strange the bark is
How parchment dry
to the touch of my fingers.
wonderful...having grown up around sequoias ( native to the region of California where i grew up, they were planted in suburbia near houses, where by the time I was 20 the foundations were being squeezed up and out of the way...and so the baby giants, only 75 years old or so often came crashing down after the chain saws ripped the air, leaving a huge gap in the familiar edge of the sky. The wood has a particular smell. the needles or leaves are amazingly adapted to trap the moisture in fog into a condesate, where it drips from them into the soil to water the behemoths...either 80 or 800 gallons a night...and the roots do not extend out beyond the rather narrow circumpherance of the branches...so they are shallow rooted and apt to tip if their environment is disturbed,. There aree groves of ancient Redwoods so wonderfully preserved from the lumber boom of the 1850's to the 1920's where their silent presence surrounds and dwarfs us tiny humans.
A wonderful poem, I quite liked it all. Brava...an odd corner of the brain in a talented woman sparked a poem into life which made a gabby middle aged guy in California want to share his sense of wonder spawned by Sequoia relatives of a tree in an English garden. uplifting. Koster
You capture the moment, the one the poet recognizes and writes about. It is both a decree of thanks for the moment and experience and then writing about it is the act of sharing.
Beautiful, I thought I was right there with you. *deep sigh* The only sense I don't think you covered is hearing, and if there was something pleasant to record it might be nice to know.
They circle the ornamental pond where the yellow irises grow and cast their reflection in the water. Only two hundred years old young yet for a Sequoia many of our own oaks even some in this park (like the Doomsday Oak) are older.
In this strophe you have me intrigued by the sight of water and irises, a comment about how old the Sequoia is, but going further into facts seems to destroy my dreamy splendor. Maybe this is where the idea of sound could go.. if leaves make sound in the wind it must be far away?
And that is truly nit picking, because the piece is beautiful just as it is. Thanks for the experience, too.
This is really good. Imagery: This has some great imagery in it. I can picture a little garden with a big tree in the middle of it, surrounded by pretty, delicate flowers in a variety of yellows, reds and blues. Also, this appeals to the senses, in that you describe the touch and such. It really makes this poem come to life. Changes: I don't think that any changes have to be madee. Maybe double check punctuation, but I think it is pretty good. Questions: I have no clue what Sequoia is, but I am going to guess that is the type of tree that you are descirbing here. Overall: Excellent job at evertihng here. ~Caotic!~
Trees. I'm in the city right now, at a netcafe. I just went to One Tree Hill and wrote about that-- but the thing is, the tree got chopped down by an activist... anyways, totally off the point (I'll show you that poem later lol)... what I was meaning to say was 'synchronicity'. Weird stuff. Anyhoo, carrying on...
You've got the perfect blend of imagery and emotive play in this poem-- to me anyhow. "Taste the syllables in your mouth" is an example-- just lovely. I like the play between an American Sequoia growing in an English park-- besides the literal aspect, it also carries personal interpretations for everyone: cross-pollination, ideas, the dynamics of culture in a nutshell.
Well, can't stay on here forever... time is running out for me... eek lol.