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  • Poetry Earthlings

Inner Child Writing Poetry on a Nature Walk.

Updated: Jan 4

To help you heal, rejuvenate and rise - a couple of poems baring a piece of the Poets' souls.




I took my inner child into a meditative daydream and this was what she encountered...


"The heavy rain persisted, pouring down heavily on the woodland canopy, but underneath the tall foundations of the evergreen forest we remain sheltered, cocooned under the vastness of the sweeping perennial branches. The pointed pine needles droop under the weight of the cold, easterly rain and the trees groan under the pressure of the driving wind. Their tall trunks dance around us, branches swooshing and swaying in hypnotic rhythm, coming together before parting like the flirtatious ritual of early courtship. A splattering of rain breaks through the overhead barrier and I watch with gentle intrigue as the giant raindrops land noisily on your wax jacket, trickling like teardrops over the width of your broad shoulders.

Thunder rumbled in the distance but the full power of the skies' vengeance is drowned out by the roar of the nearby stream. Dominating the landscape, it burbles loud and ferociously, bursting its banks as it journeys south into the valley below. The hair on the back of my neck rises in response to the raucous landscape and I reach for your hand so's to thwart the ripples of fear.

I lead you closer to the water, through the cluttered understory and sodden earth, every step sinking our wellied feet deeper and deeper into the vacuumous mud; until I lose my balance. Falling forwards onto my palms and knees, I land with a squelch in the thick mire. The coldness of early December creeps into the wet patches on my jeans, the dirt gathering in the creases of my fingers and staining the tips of my highlighted hair, but I laugh heartily as you come to my rescue, effortlessly scooping up my petite frame.

My heart flutters with anticipation as you carry me over to the water's edge. Smiling at me mischievously, a knowing glint in your eye, and I think I catch a glimpse of the cheekiness of your youth. You threaten to plunge me into the flowing water before lifting me back up again. Like a jay bird taking flight traversing the surrounding woodland, the exhilaration growing more and more intoxicating as I flap my invisible wings.

Higher

Swooping

And soaring...

Until I inevitably slip from your grip, landing unceremoniously with a splash in the freezing water. My high screams, your deep laughter and the call of a disgruntled squirrel echo loudly around the clearing and carrying downriver.

You open your jacket and draw me nearer to keep warm and I close my eyes in contentment as I rest against the cosiness of your knitted jumper. I tilt my head back to taste the aromas of the forest -

Pine

Petrichor... eau de cologne?

And you peck me quickly on the lips. Greenhorn and clumsy, like I were nine and you were ten.



For what better way to spend an afternoon than with you, my friend? Frolicking under the canopy of our inner playground."



Meet the Poet:

Jemma Louise Hunt is known for her Tales of a Wild Woman Columns. She guides in the art of Nature Connection, using the power of descriptive storytelling, poetry, and mindful invitations.

She is a poetic writer from South Wales, UK.






The Magic lives on




Whispering fairies


Sleeping trolls


Mountains deep


Forests cold


Weaving tales


In the head of mine


Sometimes rhymed


Sometimes not rhymed


Crown of fallen leaves in gold


Toothless smile dreams unfold


Talking flowers and dancing winds


Whispering brooks where water sings




Magic was all that I believed in


Moon was my fairy godmother to begin


Ladybugs were my tiny helpers


I was the queen of those little reds


Impossible was so possible then


Why did everything suddenly change then ?


What happened that took the magic away ?


Why my realm feels so far far away


I feel it in my beating heart


But I can’t see if it’s all dark


I believe it’s all there for me


One day I’ll be able to see




I grew up and forgot about it all


Now I remember it was my fault


I never went back to the woods again


I never made the golden crown again


Ignored all the bugs on walls


Stopped talking to the wind’s call


Magic was there all the time


Only I was blind, only I was blind


I got carried away with the world


I forgot nature was my only world




Here I stand and weep and cry


My heart is full of sobs and sighs


How I have missed my golden time


They were awaiting me all this time


So when I went back to the woods


It was empty and there I stood


Hoping for even a tiny sign


Just then I heard a wind chime


Hannah, Hannah said someone


I’m afraid to say, but when I turned


You won’t believe me what I saw


No one believes what I can see


You have to first believe to see


Only then you’ll understand this little story.




Meet the Poet:

Hannah M. Greene is a London-based Poet who started writing while doing her GCSEs and taking up English Literature recommended by her mum. Though she is a Fashion Merchandiser by profession and teaches textiles technology and fashion marketing. She seeks solace in writing and it relaxes her during her busy weekdays. Also an English language teacher and tutor she enjoys the depth and layers of words and their meanings. You can find her writings on Instagram at @thestoryofgreen





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