Poetry Blog by Jill Ashforth (Trees)
I sat in the shade of the Giant Sequoia
and it seemed as if I'd been transported to a summer's day.
Only the snowdrops reminded me it was still winter.
Tears filled my eyes as I embraced the soft, burnt umber bark.
I breathed in its life force as I lay my soft pink flesh on its woody flesh.
Time stood still
and I felt blessed.
Monday 3rd February 2020 5:19 pm
A woman at the bus stop wears a candy striped skirt.
It billows around her a la Marilyn Munroe
and puts me in mind of pink candy floss and a fun fair.
Soft, silver silhouettes sway gently against the whiskery wood.
Sharp railing spikes look ready to pierce any shadows with their fierce arrow heads.
And then they are gone behind a cloud.
Ginger, lime and gold lollipops hang from th...
Monday 28th October 2019 6:16 am
The crisp, golden colours of autumn foliage
set a backdrop of warm russets and oranges along the side street.
They glow as the bold shapes of the street lights cut through them,
angular and steely, petrol blue in the twilight.
Dusty, dark bark against the flutter of soft, yet crumpled orange leaves.
So delicate, so beautiful and so impermanent like the heady days of a butterfly.
Monday 28th October 2019 5:57 am
watery, winter sun,
suddenly shoots a
fuzzy spotlight on me.
Cold electric blue sky,
serried ranks of trees
standing to attention,
stripped bare in their
Stripped of the frivolous
garnishing of summer,
growing old gracef...
Friday 20th September 2019 9:45 pm
The traffic fumes and roars, deafening my thoughts.
Bark glistens in wrinkled folds with charcoal accents, smudged.
An electric blue flashes cool and a flood of beauty washes over me
as dark, emerald burrs softly quiver.
A wall of trees shields and deadens all sounds.
Silence beckons me.
Sunday 3rd April 2016 11:24 pm
I walk amongst the trees but who is there to hear?
I whisper and let my voice rustle the leaves until their tremors cease.
Hoarse and weary, not heard, not seen, I wonder if I have ever been.
A Norwegian hillside, a Norwegian wood, I sing your song.
There is much talking but who is there ever to hear?
In life, I roar silently as people pass, unseeing.
Soundless, I mo...
Sunday 3rd April 2016 11:19 pm
Pink tendrils trail
the sky, gathering
in a salmon cloud
of dusky smoke.
Dark brush strokes
of lilac sweep the
skyline, getting lost
in the tangle of
silhouetting the sky.
A morass of interwoven
trunks, like a spider's web
gone wild and
So delicate, so
evaporated, nothing but
a memory in
the heart and soul.
Saturday 19th December 2015 10:55 pm