Maxine Smith

House In The Woods

Log fire burning
Rose petals yearning
Music romancing
Silhouettes dancing
Lust so entwining
Energy thriving
As the suns rising
Sleep desiring
All in my hidden
House in the woods
Now it’s your turn
And we can all learn
About your hidden
House in the woods

Far from all the turmoil of this busy world
Surrounded by the mountains
Deep in the woods
With an ivy-covered home
Where native birds sing & flowers bloom
The whistling of the wind,
The sound of water streaming through the stones
A small fireplace, where I sit on my own
Where the dew on the grass is glimmered by the stars
This is where I shall reside, in my beautiful demise.

Where ranks of oak force whistling winds that wrap the stuccoed walls
where balconies weep winters rust with shutters bolted shut
inside the tags on tea stained strings and embers turn to ash
Asleep I lie in my retreat.

U NUSUAL NAME ! ZUMBROTA population 3,500 !
M ARY Our Friend ~ said she would show us the
B ELOVED Log Cabin where her GranPa & GranMa
R ESIDED ! We expected to be able to meet with
O NE of them ~ In the HOUSE IN THE WOODS ~ BUT
T HERE was nobody there ! The Cabin was clean
A ND MARY said They died TEN years ago ~ SPOOKY
The really SPOOKY thing was the CABIN was clean
and fresh ~ no dust or insects etc. The TABLE
was set for FIVE ~ just as if they were expecting Three VISITORS. I felt I heard a LADYS
voice saying *Ooo MARY how nice of you to visit*
BUT maybe it was just the WIND ............... !

Ah... house in the woods exemplifies cosmic, fantastic, idyllic, lyric, operatic, rhapsodic, universalistic... close approximation, where one ascetic, dogmatic, generic, Jurassic minimalistic poetic Socratic voyeuristic, (not really - only in poetry) yellowing Zen characteristic, fatalistic, ironic, laconic (yea right Matthew Scott Harris), opportunistic, realistic, utopistic zealot, who offers the following tangent accompaniment to the well worded intoxicating tranquil abode somewhat reminiscent of Lake Woebegone.
Now, unlike my usually trenchant literary librettos, I regale the unknown (tum me) reader for savoir-faire articulation, elocution, and indomitable tour de force proffered by the spectrum of bounteous expropriated hegemony rightful to Mother Nature.
A Place Revisited Within The Mind
(an illusory escape during dead of winter).
The shafts of a golden veil, spring sun at noon
break through the heavily coated
overgrowth of leafy foliage
and cause shadows spar upon the forest floor.
In a field of wild
a mosaic of crystalline color
from the prismatic play of sunshine
upon the silently talking heads
of the swaying stalks.
the scintillating and sparkling rays
in unison with the weft
(and warp across an invisible loom)
weaves a delicious tasting warm breeze,
(which sways the boughs of treetops to and fro,
akin to an unseen baby being cradled)
brings a ladled spate of cool freshness
from the map-cap world (webbed wide)
of a manmade existence.
The grandeur of the fallow spring meadow
a pageant of exquisite dignity
by the graceful movements
from the un-choreographed fall and rise
of the unplowed acres
eyes orbit, ear re Canal,
and twitching nostrils of sensate beings
to the mellifluous sounds
and sweet smelling aromas
that gently teasingly assault the senses
beguiling the sight,
and lulling ears into a transcendent state.
A buoyant airy tonal plume
rises into the surrounding heights
touches the breadth of cerulean sky
and scythe lent lee gently tumbles back down
like a merry widow waltzing flowery waterfall.
In quiet circumspection
the antics sans plethora of BuzzFeed ding
busily buzzing foraging insects,
which contentedly hum and alight nearby
flitting to and fro
oblivious to plaudits encore
harmoniously thriving
within the living laboratory
of Mother Nature,
sans, Insects or Insecta are by far
count as the largest group of
hexapod invertebrates
within the arthropod phylum,
where simultaneously
underneath the earthen surface
the ground tis a bustle with
glorious heartthrob
of one micro universe
comprising architects, builders, and weavers
engage in all manner
of natural devices for a livelihood.
This brilliant splendor tantamount
with top-notch operatic performance,
a sensational visual and audiological feast
hypnotizing one humble human (me)
into an inebriated state of bliss.

Surrounded by ghosts and misfits
Among the fairies and talking mice
Sits my cabin, rustic and weary
Yet full of life
My thoughts, they wander
My pen against the page
My place of slumber
And quiet days
It's where I go to hide
Even if it's just in my mind

A lumber pile across a yard;
The chilly air, breathing wood -
Pine and moss collect - and there,
True refuge, is understood.

MI PADRE is Spanish from SEVILLE
I used to go for my holidays in JULY
I stayed with my GRANNY ~ and it was brill
The days were sunny and seemed to FLY
We played in the River
We played in the Wood
Naughty ? No never!
Cos I was always GOOD !
But the most FUN we had
Was our favourite PAD
Our secret HOUSE in the WOODS
Its location was secrete
We were very discrete
INCOGNITO and we all wore HOODS !
The games that we played
The friends that we made
Are gone now ~ 20 years since
We spooked & we cooked
Made CHILLI CON CARNE with mince.
IF I go back ~
I will find that OLD SHACK
And relive the days of my YOUTH
The fun that we had
Each Girl & Lad
When we sought to discover the TRUTH !

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