03-20-2016, 04:03 PM
This is a long poem, [edit] a romantic fantasy tale . Again something I would envision illustrated in a book. Probably full of cliches. Anyway, please let me know what you think. The title is an afterthought and open to suggestions.
The Spell at the Oak
They met in a clearing, in a shaded space,
Somewhere in the west of the woods.
Of the fruits they ate, and of much they spoke.
Then at last made love by the shade of an oak.
Danced they three rings round the old oak tree,
Where a spell was cast that they didn’t see.
But far away could be seen its glow
Rising up from the west of the woods.
In a forest so vast and of such an age,
There are many a fruit and an oak tree’s shade.
“Such a time may i spend, and moreover, again!”
So to triple his pleasures in search went the man.
But his logic would fail for a spell did prevail
At an oak in the west of the woods.
Now in this calm clearing came the lovers to dwell.
To enjoy of the fruits, and the shade, and the spell.
“A home must we build in this west wood so dense!”
“With a hearth, and a roof, and a bed, and a fence.”
And fast did it come, for served were they well,
By the spell, in the west of the woods.
A time came to pass when the union need pause.
A fortnight’s pilgrimage east was the cause.
While the man undertook, leaving woman alone,
To a nearby oak did she venture to roam.
And there did she sense of his failed dalliance,
And the discarded fruit in the woods.
In a pain and grief struck rage was she.
“A home of lies have he buildeth me!”
As she tore and kicked and burned it all,
The spell was broke and the smoke rose tall.
So she left. The fire cooled. And returning came he,
From the east to the west of the woods.
His spiritual sojourn had played its good part.
The prescribed introspection had opened his heart.
So with love it was that he drew near their home,
To find ashen foundations, like smouldering bone.
And a mournful tread could be heard all the night
As he circled the oak in the woods.
“Oh woe is me!” Cried he, cried he,
With bitter regret and dismay at his deed.
“That it comes like a claw to carve at my chest!”
Well a lesson learned hard is a lesson learned best.
So as this soaked his bones, in an ashen bed
Lay the man in the west of the woods.
And of our woman should our man have known;
In another time she’d another home.
And another man, when her heart was whole,
Had forsaken her and scarred her soul.
So from lessons taught are lessons learned.
A house is built, a home is burned.
And though a fire may scar an oak,
Much more will pass where once was smoke.
For fruit and shade will there ever be,
Somewhere in the west of the woods.
The Spell at the Oak
They met in a clearing, in a shaded space,
Somewhere in the west of the woods.
Of the fruits they ate, and of much they spoke.
Then at last made love by the shade of an oak.
Danced they three rings round the old oak tree,
Where a spell was cast that they didn’t see.
But far away could be seen its glow
Rising up from the west of the woods.
In a forest so vast and of such an age,
There are many a fruit and an oak tree’s shade.
“Such a time may i spend, and moreover, again!”
So to triple his pleasures in search went the man.
But his logic would fail for a spell did prevail
At an oak in the west of the woods.
Now in this calm clearing came the lovers to dwell.
To enjoy of the fruits, and the shade, and the spell.
“A home must we build in this west wood so dense!”
“With a hearth, and a roof, and a bed, and a fence.”
And fast did it come, for served were they well,
By the spell, in the west of the woods.
A time came to pass when the union need pause.
A fortnight’s pilgrimage east was the cause.
While the man undertook, leaving woman alone,
To a nearby oak did she venture to roam.
And there did she sense of his failed dalliance,
And the discarded fruit in the woods.
In a pain and grief struck rage was she.
“A home of lies have he buildeth me!”
As she tore and kicked and burned it all,
The spell was broke and the smoke rose tall.
So she left. The fire cooled. And returning came he,
From the east to the west of the woods.
His spiritual sojourn had played its good part.
The prescribed introspection had opened his heart.
So with love it was that he drew near their home,
To find ashen foundations, like smouldering bone.
And a mournful tread could be heard all the night
As he circled the oak in the woods.
“Oh woe is me!” Cried he, cried he,
With bitter regret and dismay at his deed.
“That it comes like a claw to carve at my chest!”
Well a lesson learned hard is a lesson learned best.
So as this soaked his bones, in an ashen bed
Lay the man in the west of the woods.
And of our woman should our man have known;
In another time she’d another home.
And another man, when her heart was whole,
Had forsaken her and scarred her soul.
So from lessons taught are lessons learned.
A house is built, a home is burned.
And though a fire may scar an oak,
Much more will pass where once was smoke.
For fruit and shade will there ever be,
Somewhere in the west of the woods.