Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Poplar Creek
















Poplar Creek

Rocks covered with moss,
rough bark I scratch
against my palm,
the swarm jousting
in a patch of light
that sneaks beneath the trees,
the inimitable sound
of water fleeing
over sand and stone,
the silly smile I wear
when wandering alone
as a child wears
when hoarding secret treasure,
the need for pen,
for words, for record,
the small winged thing
that rides inside with me
when I come
to tell my pleasures.

36 comments:

  1. So lovely...I felt like I was walking along too, with that heart-lift one feels in nature's beauty.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Sherry. "My heart leaps up...".

      Delete
  2. You tell your secret pleasures so well I smile. :)

    Your backyard is magical.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It is, Gnome, a place of delight! ;-)

      Delete
  3. I can relate to this- that need to write about a moment, so beautiful this one is!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So we both need to remember our pens!

      Delete
  4. It is really good that one has pens and words to share the pleasures of one's backyard! Thanks for jamming with us, Karen!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My pleasure, Mary. I was one of the Bus poets back before the Jam. I'm happy to be here.

      Delete
  5. Speaking for all the crusty barked old trees I just wanted to thank you for the scratch. That was just what we needed right then.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I wear a silly smile when I wander in the woods too :) I really really should do it more often! AND remember to carry a notepad with me.

    (I once had a job where people often stopped me in the hallway & asked me to do things once I got to my desk. Even 10 years ago I had a hard time remembering everything, so I started wearing a little flip notepad with a pen on a string around my neck. Ha!)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I often end up writing with my thumbs because all I have is my phone. Kind of loses the Romanticism, doesn't it?

      Delete
  7. smiles...i love nature personally...and i retreat to the woods often to find my solace...i love the bit about the little thing inside you as well...always keep my notebook handy just in case you know...smiles...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Your comment makes me smile, Brian! I think I'm happiest surrounded by woods. My childhood was spent roaming the hills.

      Delete
  8. Telling your pleasures ... that is what poetry means to me .. this is entrancing.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I felt your forest as you described it--could hear the sounds and smell the smells and see that patch of sunlight. Thanks for this moment.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for going along with me, Peggy.

      Delete
  10. Beautiful, Karen. I do feel like a child when I get outside in nature with my pencil and paper.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. There's nowhere else I can really lose myself like I can in nature -- except for when I'm writing, of course. Thanks for visiting, Laurie.

      Delete
  11. What a beautiful scene about a place I want to be, too, with my pen and paper of course. Now that is inspiration!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Judy! I appreciate your comments.

      Delete
  12. I don't think poets/writers can ever not write about nature and it's beautiful sights and sounds. This is lovely!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I agree, Daydreamertoo! Not writing is not an option!

      Delete
  13. Lovely poem with vivid images. It's like I was there :) Great photo, too

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm glad you came along with me, Lordana!

      Delete
  14. This really touched me as I read it. Thank you for this. It calls up memories of wandering in the woods as a child.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I spent my youth roaming the woods, too, Carol. I think that's why I'm happiest there stiill. Thanks for your comment.

      Delete
  15. You have taken me on your journey Karen...this is lovely!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks for coming along with me, Carrie!

      Delete
  16. 'the small winged thing that rides inside with me'
    LOve that!

    ReplyDelete
  17. Somehow a forest doesn't quite seem complete without the sound of running water. Beautiful imagery in this!

    ReplyDelete
  18. Oh, this, every word speaks directly to my nature loving smiling soul. What a beautiful write, Karen, I was right in that moment with you. :)

    ReplyDelete