Friday, 24 August 2012

The Walk

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This poem was inspired by the line “We walked here when the trees were saplings” which I heard at a recent poetry evening in a poem called 'Sark Revisited' by Joan Ozanne. I decided to write about the woods I used to walk in on the ridge above Minden when I was based in Germany in the late 80’s.

During the many walks and runs I had along the ridge I used to marvel at the way in which the ground cover would vary. I remember the riotous colours of autumnal leaves, The way in which the trees could become coated in ice in the winter, the springs bluebells and snow drops and of course the magnificent views out across the green valley below when Hang gliders launched from one of the cafes in the summer months.

The poem caries several meanings for me, I hope you can find your own.

The Walk

I walk here; with you beside me.
Leaves tumble from the heavens above
as if bearing messages of love.
They leave a brightly coloured carpet of
rubies, bronze and gold at our feet.
Thinking of the riches
with which I’ve been blessed;
my mind wandered to a time,
when the woodland floor
bore diamonds and sapphires.
Yes;
We walked here when the trees were saplings
and looking back,
I wish I’d held your hand.

John Carré Buchanan
24 August 2012

6 comments:

  1. This is a lovely poem. It just reminded me of the times in my life when I thought everything was so beautiful with romance in the air. Thanks for the memory.

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    1. Rum-Punch Drunk, thank you for your comment. I am glad I was able to give you such good memories. All the best John

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  2. Beautiful poem John. I love it.

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    1. Liz,
      Thank you, I am glad you like it.
      All the best
      John

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  3. This is a beautiful and tender poem, John. Hope whomever you were thinking of having taken the walk with had seen this?

    Good night,
    Tasha

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    1. Tasha, In this instance I know that the person I was thinking of is aware, for he is always with me.

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