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Timothy Venard

Rookie (November 29th 1995 / Lewes)

A poem from the waling woods: 1- the waling woods


The waling woods
Their quiet now
A strange name you’d think
For a wood that’s as silent
As an infants dream

But years ago,
Oh so many years,
The woods were alive
And restless
And so were the people in it.

For miles and miles
One could hear the woods cry
Carried on the wind
And as alive as fire
And as cold as dead

The waling woods are sleeping now
Some say they’re actually dead

Submitted: Saturday, December 26, 2009

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  • Rookie - 5 Points Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello (12/28/2009 10:56:00 AM)

    'Orlando Furioso' by Ludovico Ariosto is a very famous epic and is almost completely set in a wood. 'Women, knives, arms, loves I sing..' wrote the poet: how many things! I remember girl bodies, dog, mushrooms and, above all, trees. The young Timothy writes very well, in perfect English, recalls John Keats, is active and serious. At the moment I write almost completely in Italian, what's more unpublished stuff. I'm going to read some lines by Mr Venard, Happy New Year. (Report) Reply

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