A place I have never seen but it's name is a beauty unchained,
Crooked Wood a village in County Westmeath,
Like a dark cloud having released it's negativity as it rained,
It's mighty tears running off the bareness of the bark of trees,
Trees that reach to sometimes turbulent skies and sometimes calm skies,
Trees are the rich sap of nature their roots are free
To grow with dignity, grace and defies
Cold concrete with it's internal sighs,
Trees stand proud they are masters of creative nature that never dies,
Crooked Wood is a picture of beauty that is never perfect,
Just contorted, complex like a confused sect,
Just trees accepting their crooked wilfulness,
I dream of acceptance that I will always want to dance,
With all my doubts, fears and entrapment,
To surge through the breaking waves to romance,
Life is a chance, love is romance with a heartbeat to dance,
Crooked Wood is a sign of freedom away from conformity,
To sing without a tune,
To dance without rhythm,
To walk in the dark and feel the magic of the sultry glow of the moon,
To live and love withour fear like a Crooked Wood,
To rejoice because love is setting ourselves free,
Like a contorted tree embracing nature because life is good,
To believe in ourselves because we should!
Love your portrayal of Crooked Wood, it brought pictures of trees to my mind, their symmetry always following their individual sources of inner power, forever being perfect in their own way! It is a lesson from nature to be who we are and fill the world with the uniqueness of our beings just as trees do. Beautiful portrait of Crooked Wood you have left within my mind! 10+++ Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn
To live and love withour fear like a Crooked Wood, Very good metaphor, people will live strongly. Thank you.
I like this place called Crooked Wood- it has individuality, a poet could really cut loose with it! ! ! And you did! ! ! ! I think those last two stanzas set this place right in our hearts- - - - -] Crooked Wood is a sign of freedom away from conformity, To sing without a tune, To dance without rhythm, To walk in the dark and feel the magic of the sultry glow of the moon, To live and love withour fear like a Crooked Wood, To rejoice because love is setting ourselves free, Like a contorted tree embracing nature because life is good, To believe in ourselves because we should! [- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Well done, Hazel! ! You're right, Imperfect can be much easier to snuggle up to that cold austere perfect beauty.
We all wish to be accepted the way we are and this poem the ' Crooked Woods, ' distills this inner urge. Excellent.
I wish I could see the Crooked Wood Village in the county of Westmeath, Hazel has so nicely described its charms in a beautiful poem.
A song comes into my mind while reading your poem: '' Love your curves and all your edges All your perfect imperfections '' - John Legend's All of Me. Your poem portraits beautifully the scenery of the place; a place emanating beauty and tranquility from its uniqueness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ι liked the text.Out of it try a form of poem as I did with P.L.Fermor's text on dolphins.I'm sure you will have the same result.