The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

This has the feel of a dream sequence, a merging of tangible realities and intangible thoughts slipping and twining around the prosaic.

I shall read this more than once, just for the way it flows.  I rather fell in love with the following phrase...

'inhale the blush
of bewitched foliage'

Which rather sums up those rare moments when you can feel totally in touch with Nature.

Gyppo

Very much enjoyed T. My general view, as a reader, I can enjoy the surface of a poem without grasping meaning, though I expect meaning to be there. My preferred poem is one layered with meaning threaded with a nuance soundscape.

best

Phil

What a magical write, it recaptures the sense of wonder Rachel Carson advocated so many years ago. I needed to be reminded of how simply it can be captured by a night time visit to the turnip patch

Gyppo -- thanks for the reading and comments. Glad you like at least some of this.

Matty-- I wish I could write the poem you describe. Thanks for taking a look.

Indar -- Silent Spring -- what a different world that iconic book was born into.

Thank yous for the feedback.

Cheers.

T

I wasn't aware of that book -- what great reviews. I am currently reading Backpacking with the Saints by Beldon Lane. Similar import, I think, perhaps from a different direction.

I can't say I like turnips but I like the poem. It seems to have been artfully constructed and for some odd reason makes me think of a 1950s spaceship crash-landed in a turnip field. This raises questions if not eyebrows. What are the farmer's neighbors going to think? Will the turnips go up or down in value at harvest? And how is it that the farmer doesn't know about the decagonic spanner in his toolbox that matches the spaceship's ten-sided nuts? We can only ponder these elements.

In later years, a different crop spontaneously sprouted around it  and the holy crash site became known as The Worship Catnip Turnip Starship Church but unfortunately the rhyming nature of this only attracted poets blitzed on drugs who then tagged the spaceship with nonsensical graffiti. Aha. This then, is the official explanation of this weird poem.          


 

In later years, a different crop spontaneously sprouted around it. . .

Great reply Mark!

Nice poem Tracy.
You can't decipher your friend's poems but understand that you don't have to; some mysteries help us to appreciate the elements we can (and should) value.

I don't eat turnips. However, a few of them (and a few onions) boiled with lots of water in a big pot for two hours, then left to sit for 24 hours, makes a delicious stock for gravy.