KINGSDOWN WOOD

This is one of the first poems that I ever wrote, Rich's poem reminded me of it .

 

 

Come walk with me along these ancient paths

and listen to the wind sigh through the dappling leaves,

then pause awhile, and gaze between those shafts

of golden light that filter through the shading trees.

 

Watch with me in this quiet glade

let your senses be aware we're not alone,

shadow people flit from sun to shade

and gather in this place that was their own.

 

this is where they sang and told their stories,

this is where the fire of life began,

we knew these people well and spoke their language

shared their hearth and hunted with their men.

 

They knew the stars that we still see above us,

knew the sea that pounds our pebbled shore,

their spirit lingers in our psyche

and their memories are pulsing through our veins.

 

Kingsdown wood is a small ancient wood that crowns a hill in the chalk downland near my home, it is in sight of the sea.

The wider area is known to have been the home of 'The Beaker people'

The poem tries to put into words the fact that we still share our ancestors DNA, and in effect, they are still living within us. - Not sure if this makes sense?

 

◄ THE SILENT MARCH OF 2001

GLORIOUS ANARCHY ►

Comments

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Kate G

Wed 6th Mar 2019 09:00

Dorothy, the Photoshop story just adds to the charm. As a redhead in Australia, hats are an essential.... good to have a selection to try on. Glad to have "met" you. 😀

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Dorothy Webb

Mon 4th Mar 2019 17:00

Kate

I am ashamed to say that my cheetah is nothing but a cheater,
my Brother in Law photoshopped him on.
What I was actual doing is trying on hats, I am not a hat person hence the laugh.

I am so happy that my poems have been getting such warm comments, it is a life changing experience for me.

I love WoL and the people that I have 'met' but most of all I love to read other poems - and think about them - and chat about them,
Dorothy

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Dorothy Webb

Mon 4th Mar 2019 16:45

Cynthia
I am so sorry about your cancer, stay safe, stay strong, stay well.

I have a photo of myself and my sister, as children, playing on the stones at Stonehenge, sheer magic.

I agree about touching not being a mere whim, it is a very strong drive, I felt it even as a child,

Rich describes this in his poem aptly named 'STONE' and it is for this reason that I am now talking about it. (Oh! the power of poetry)



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Kate G

Mon 4th Mar 2019 12:28

Good to see much love for your work Dorothy, I'm dying to ask about your big cat. Is it a cheetah? The image is small.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 4th Mar 2019 12:23

'Pressing my palm against an ancient stone placed in worship' .... Oh, that's me to a T.

Last did it in the Hebrides in April, 2018, and wondered if I had contacted something ghastly when I then became very ill. But, no, it was cancer just lying in wait. But I did wonder, and berated myself for being so 'silly'.

I was lucky enough to touch the Stonehenge pillars as well, before they were made unapproachable. It's a driving force, this touching business, more than a simple whim.

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Dorothy Webb

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 19:52

Rich
I have been thinking some more about your poem.

How many people, on visiting standing stones or neolithic tombs press the palm of their hands against the stone to feel - feel what? - some sort of communion perhaps? - I don't know - and who will actually admit to it? not many I'll bet.

"I fear for what we can't discuss"

That's true, but now we are.



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Rich

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 17:53

Hi Dorothy, I love this poem, with its intriguing question and mystery. I'm pleased my poem reminded you of this one, and thank you for sharing.

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Dorothy Webb

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 16:56

Thank you Cynthia your wam words and comments they are quite overwhelming.

I love this little woood, the poem wrote itself while I was walking my dog through it.

It makes me so happy that so many people can 'see' what I meant and understand where I was coming from.



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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 15:34

Of course, it makes sense. Much enjoyed. Your 'word usage' of what 'flies/grips/attracts' with real power is astute. I really think it is an inborn gift, the love of words and a musical mind.


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Dorothy Webb

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 15:06

Ray Thank you for both reading and commenting it means a lot to me.

Ah! why not try 'Fifty Shades of Grey'

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Dorothy Webb

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 15:01

Jason
I could get to enjoy being a hero, do heros get to eat chocolate cake every day?

I did not intend that this poem should see light of day - but having seen Rich's poem and it's competant desciption of the mystery of ancient 'things' I decided to fish it out of it's confinement.

So, thank you Rich, your poem has depth and insight.

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raypool

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 14:53

I agree with Kate here Dorothy, I couldn't put it better so I won't try. I used to read Famous Five with different voices to my wife in bed, but she always fell asleep after a few paragraphs. I wonder why?

Ray

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Dorothy Webb

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 14:48

Kate
I was such a fan of Enid Blyton she whisked us away from our dull lives and took us somewhere magical.

Dorothy

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Jason Bayliss

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 14:25

Oh yes Dorothy, it makes perfect sense. I said before, I think you're becoming a bit of a hero for me, well hero status confirmed. Love it and so glad that I have the chance to read your work.

J. x

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Kate G

Sun 3rd Mar 2019 13:11

Dorothy, this put me in mind of The Folk of the Faraway Tree. Something very Enid Blyton about the whimsy and magic you've weaved here. Simply delightful.

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