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    Doctor Oger
  • Doctor Oger
  • Author
  • 02/28/2017
  • 369 Words
  • 2,554 Views
  • 4 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Sock Drawer - 39. The Shepherd Bush

Try it with Mike Oldfield: In Dulci Jubilo

The Shepherd Bush

 

It's joyful walking in the woods

where leaves and sticks crack merrily

under my boots,

where caterpillars twirl on threads

of silk and on protruding roots

trails of ants march in curving queues

and the foliage, with time of day,

changes hues.

Not mindful where I put my shoes,

I skip and drag my heavy treads

through nature's ancient flowerbeds

until I reach a smooth and shiny

bush, leaf-covered and viny,

that I've seen so often before.

I've been aware of the fruit it bore

every year, but this time it's more

of those black berries, galore!

And casting about I can see

no one around this time, but me.

 

Each year, all year, it had been

beleaguered by the clever and quick,

the ones that really know how to pick

the juiciest bits with the prettiest sheen,

and I never knew their taste.

How would I know how to eat

them right, I thought, what a waste

it would be and my feet

always remained planted in place

when everyone else joined in the race

for a sweet berry.

And how they would hurry,

how I would just stare,

so sure not only I was aware

of the beauty of this plant, its leaves

stiff, veined and silky,

when it rains they shed milky

drops to the ground like green eaves,

its branches dark and furrowed

outside, with elegant twists borrowed

from pixies that must have danced

around the sapling it once was.

Among the hardened tendrils dark

I can see without grey bark

here and there a pale green bough

that slowly moves in lazy curls.

 

How it beckons to me now.

Who knew this bush could move

like this, its vines could twirl

around my arm and leg

when I come near?

I just reached out for a berry,

the nearest, the first I could see,

touched a leaf with my knee,

and already on my neck

I can feel its vines unfurl,

snake and swirl,

until they cover

me and draw me close,

gently, like a lover.

The red, sweet juice

runs over my smug smile

and it doesn't let loose.

It's me he chose.

/
Copyright © 2017 Doctor Oger; All Rights Reserved.
  • Like 3
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

J.HunterDunn

The title of your poem got my attention immediately, for when you have been in London UK now and then, you eventually will get on the Central Line with Sheperd's Bush as one of the tube-stations. Reading it, I found no connection, but there's always the possibility that you intended to fool me and that there is a hidden meaning ... one never knows with you :) .

 

The reason I write a review is that I'm a bit appalled that there's only one "like" after you posted this yesterday. You deserve many more "likes" in my opinion.

 

Like the rest of your work, although I not always fully understand the contents, I love your choice of words and the mystic and dreamlike atmosphere you are able to evoke, sometimes with a surreal twist somewhere along the line.

 

Please don't be discouraged by the lack of response. There are people outhere who enjoy to read what you write, so please continue doing so.

 

Peter.

Lisa

I totally agree with Peter. As I've told you, many of your poems just fly over my head. lol I'm such a deep person, after all. :lol: But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy reading them! I love reading you poetry! I don't need to understand it to enjoy it. I think. lol

 

Anyway, I really enjoyed this poem, Doc. :) I could just picture a little kid standing around waiting to pick some of the blackberries, only to get up there and find out they're all gone! I'm glad the narrator finally had a shot at getting some of the fruit. :) I love the way you set it up, though, with the description of walking through the woods, not caring what flowers and ants you step on, and then the description of the blackberry bush itself was just beautiful. I could picture the berries dripping their 'dew' onto the ground after the rain.

 

Great poem, Doc! :)

Doctor Oger
On 03/02/2017 06:09 AM, J.HunterDunn said:

The title of your poem got my attention immediately, for when you have been in London UK now and then, you eventually will get on the Central Line with Sheperd's Bush as one of the tube-stations. Reading it, I found no connection, but there's always the possibility that you intended to fool me and that there is a hidden meaning ... one never knows with you :) .

 

The reason I write a review is that I'm a bit appalled that there's only one "like" after you posted this yesterday. You deserve many more "likes" in my opinion.

 

Like the rest of your work, although I not always fully understand the contents, I love your choice of words and the mystic and dreamlike atmosphere you are able to evoke, sometimes with a surreal twist somewhere along the line.

 

Please don't be discouraged by the lack of response. There are people outhere who enjoy to read what you write, so please continue doing so.

 

Peter.

Oh, thank you so much. What praise. It's an honour to me that you, someone who really knows words, appreciate my words in some way, even if you don't think you can figure them out completely.

This poem is pretty personal(ised), but I'm glad not only the person I wrote it for gets something out of it. Thank you very much for your feedback!

I didn't know there was a station called "Shepherd's Bush". It has nothing to do with that, no. Shepherd is the name of the poem's addressee. So it's one of the love poems that AC claims are so rare, haha.

Thank you so much, your review is very nutritious to me.

Doctor Oger
On 03/02/2017 03:17 PM, Lisa said:

I totally agree with Peter. As I've told you, many of your poems just fly over my head. lol I'm such a deep person, after all. :lol: But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy reading them! I love reading you poetry! I don't need to understand it to enjoy it. I think. lol

 

Anyway, I really enjoyed this poem, Doc. :) I could just picture a little kid standing around waiting to pick some of the blackberries, only to get up there and find out they're all gone! I'm glad the narrator finally had a shot at getting some of the fruit. :) I love the way you set it up, though, with the description of walking through the woods, not caring what flowers and ants you step on, and then the description of the blackberry bush itself was just beautiful. I could picture the berries dripping their 'dew' onto the ground after the rain.

 

Great poem, Doc! :)

Thank you so very much yet again! You keep inflating my ego with your comments. As long as you can draw something out of it, whatever it is, as long as it means something to you then you "understand" it in some way, and if you enjoy it then I've done well. And I'm glad you do. Thank you.

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