Okay, should I call this now `quarantine poetry´, or what…? Anyway, I came up with this story / poem on Wednesday, and wrote it on Wednesday and yesterday.
Sunshine in the early spring, a peaceful serene day
How peppy, you´ll see, a hare is hopping amidst the dry hay
Time to rest, for a wanderer, by a pond
the scenery´s mellow
A little stream, the sound you seek, when you do not
miss the snow.
A campfire feels like home, she looks up at the tall trees
Evening falls. The forest, the stories... Write now,
no one sees!
- A cheerful greeting - Then a quiet leaving. She says
smiling "That was an owl."
What you do not see is there to be sought, playing
a meaningful role.
Moss all around, the campfire, the scents, out there
is no light
Flames dance in the air, the words, expect nothing, then
feel the might
At night, stand guard, the fire, pen and paper, oh,
how the day is old
Be curious. The hoot - ask yourself what it told.
Embers, morning´s cold, thoughts are fresh on paper,
the day´s birdsong, fair
She steps out of the woods, it´s so bright in a field, now
into the woods hops the hare
Nature has its rhythm, wisdom in the moment, the best
now is the spring
The road goes on, she stops "On second thoughts...",
back to the woods she heads and starts to sing.
- Leena, March 18-19, 2020
I have wanted to do this since Christmas – to write a story or a poem (necessarily needs to rhyme :p ), the kind that I could immediately publish here in my blog. Yesterday I finally had the time and everything to both come up with a story and to write it.
Late-winter night, wise and bold,
The secrets it might hold...
Two moose are wandering in a field, the moon is
The scenery is pale in white, still, a meaningful sight.
Three deer are standing in the field, listening side by side
A hare is leaping in the forest, there is no need to hide
Snow starts falling from the trees, the deer flee, the hare
looks up and stops,
Frozen moss beneath his paws, more snow falls down, he hops.
A fox is running in the snow, now swiftly past the trees
A black figure is watching from the shadows, everything
A swish, then a croak, oh look, it is a raven
The pine forest for the bird is a sublime haven.
Sunshine in the morning about the spring us tells
Birds are chirping around a frozen pond, the scene is like
softly ringing bells
A long road between the fields, it is daytime, a light and
an easy pace,
A wanderer humming to herself, a happy and thoughtful face.
In the evening, in the forest - Hush -
The sound of a campfire and a stream somewhere near
Dusk. She closes her eyes and listens, thinking
"That´s an animal, I can hear..."
A rustle and the sound of a creature hopping, the campfire
is so nice and warming
All this is beautiful, familiar and wild, curious, forever
- Leena, February 26, 2020
A wolf wandering in the wilderness that is dressed up in snow white
The night is falling to caress the silence with the moonlight
The mid-winter frost is biting the paws of the beautiful beast,
For the breeze that the chilly morning sent, has never ceased.
The animal is walking up the slope of the shadowy fell,
Looking backwards where the den of the paleness can be seen well
Beneath the starry cover the frozen lake of the wild is slumbering
The falling flakes reflect the glow, and the wolf’s grey fur is glittering.
On the fell-top the lone wolf many times has cried,
But the howling only is for the moon to hear, there is no one by his side
Yet the beast keeps on yearning for his beloved and the never promised moon,
He knows his endless calling might reach someone any time soon.
And that night the echo brings a message cried out by another loner,
But will they ever have a true encounter, or is everything merely over?
(Written by me in winter 2002. :))
Late-Night Life in the Wild
A courageous vagabond in the silent wilderness of the fabled north,
For what is his smothered cry worth?
Twinkling stars a comfort for the lonely hermit’s soul
Silence suddenly break by the voice of a cheerfully greeting owl.
He accepted the captivating call of the distant wild,
The whispering condemnation not for the fragile
The glimmering full-moon lightens the path never-ending,
An autumnal message the honest glow is sending.
Strong northern-breeze chants kindly in his ear,
Accompanied by the howling of a whining wolf so near
The brave animal dwells in the shelter of an echoing fell
Lone wolf’s tears for the sacred full-moon are not due to farewell.
If a shiny star should shoot in the black sky,
Would the melancholic man wish or tell a white lie?
Is the blaze of the northern lights an omen of the end of his sorrow,
Or awaits there just another hailing tomorrow?
Bare dwarf birches beside a glittering, dark blue, flowing river
A longingly screaming eagle is giving him the shiver
A campfire sparkling nostalgic warmth which will the nighttime last,
Is the softly singing hermit missing something from the past?
(Written by me in autumn 2001. :))
The depth of winter where the moon is rising,
The weak daylight dwindles without compromising
Pale glow takes over, the shadows grow dark
Behind the wood a vigorous dog begins to bark.
The winding road between the fields that are gleaming white,
For evening’s walker the frozen landscape is a peaceful sight
Snow flurry covers the footprints on the ground
Cool breeze sighs, the flakes dash gently all around.
Silence captures the falling night, standing bold and wise
The stars stay awake observing with their bright eyes
A door creaks casting light when thrown open wide,
The shivering dog hears a whistle, and rushes swiftly inside.
(Written by me in autumn 2001. :))