Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!
Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com    Poems On Site: 198,500+   Comments On Poems: 427,000+   Forum Posts: 105,000+
Custom Search
  Welcome ! Home  ·  FAQ  ·  Topics  ·  Web Links  ·  Your Account  ·  Submit Poetry  ·  Top 30  ·  OldSite Link 01-July 21:39:01 AEST  
  Menu
  Home
· Micks Shop
· Our eBay Store· Error Submit
 Poetry
· Submit Poetry
· Least Read Poems
· Topics
· Members Listing
· Old Site Post 2001
· Old Site Pre 2001
· Poetry Archive
· Public Domain Poetry
 Stories
· Stories (NEW ! )
· Submit Story
· Story Topics
· Stories Archive
· Story Search
  Community
· Our Poetry Forums
· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

  Site Help
· FAQ
· Feedback

  Members Areas
· Your Account
· Members Journals
· Premium Sign-Up
  Premium Section
· Special Section
· Premium Poems
· Premium Submit
· Premium Search
· Premium Top
· Premium Archive
· Premium Topics
 Fun & Games

· Jokes
· Bubble Puzzle
· ConnectN
· Cross Word
· Cross Word Easy
· Drag Puzzle
· Word Hunt
 Reference
· Dictionary
· Dictionary (Rhyming)
· Site Updates
· Content
· Special Content
 Search
· Search
· Web Links
· All Links
 Top
· Top 30
  Help This Site
· Donations
 Others
· Recipes
· Moderators
Our Other Sites
· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

  Social

Array ( [sid] => 166981 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => i stopped building dens when I was ten [time] => 2011-08-13 01:43:55 [hometext] => [bodytext] => A muddy trail of many feet
cuts into the canopy
the silence it intimidates
as I enter breathlessly
gold and green did set the scene
but grim and grey cover the way
I stare alone, as time stands still
This place will not bend to my will
another world remains outside,
burning sweating, losing pride
a leaf drops, spinning, gathering
not welcome here, I am a sin
no echoes just a thumping shun
knowingly watched by other ones
twigs crack sharply under feet
now my entrance is complete.
foliage finger at my face
my hands sweep just to check the space
fear of spiders and small things
that bite or scratch or offer stings
becomes so real whilst I am here
tiny nuisances cause fear
pungent smells of vegetation
not known by the concrete nation
neither pleasant nor obscene
but real enough to banish dream
I carry on, a lumbering fool
reminded of my times at school
when we would all create a den
a pleasure lost since I was ten
bottles dug up from the ground
tales of treasure to be found
torture metered on the boy
who did not grow out of his toys.

The path goes on up a great bank
a smooth root rippled broken staircase
I take a step back for the run up
wary of slips, hands out just in case
intermittent steps of purchase
suddenly, I'm at the top!
freshness,clear light warms at my face
canal bank, I have to stop
on the other side the tow path
home of dog walkers and the poles
of fishermen who sit for hours
staring at their orange rolls
of tape around their floating lures
this is leisure for these types
one looks annoyed at my invasion
of his trap set for a bite
I nod somewhat apologetic
wipe my hands clean down my side
I look around like a small child
wondering if it seems all right?
is it okay to walk this way?
when you are old enough to know
that ghosts and treasure
life and leisure
ended a long time ago.

[comments] => 1 [counter] => 204 [topic] => 44 [informant] => poeticjestix [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Nostalgic )
i stopped building dens when I was ten

Contributed by poeticjestix on Saturday, 13th August 2011 @ 01:43:55 AM in AEST
Topic: Nostalgic



A muddy trail of many feet
cuts into the canopy
the silence it intimidates
as I enter breathlessly
gold and green did set the scene
but grim and grey cover the way
I stare alone, as time stands still
This place will not bend to my will
another world remains outside,
burning sweating, losing pride
a leaf drops, spinning, gathering
not welcome here, I am a sin
no echoes just a thumping shun
knowingly watched by other ones
twigs crack sharply under feet
now my entrance is complete.
foliage finger at my face
my hands sweep just to check the space
fear of spiders and small things
that bite or scratch or offer stings
becomes so real whilst I am here
tiny nuisances cause fear
pungent smells of vegetation
not known by the concrete nation
neither pleasant nor obscene
but real enough to banish dream
I carry on, a lumbering fool
reminded of my times at school
when we would all create a den
a pleasure lost since I was ten
bottles dug up from the ground
tales of treasure to be found
torture metered on the boy
who did not grow out of his toys.

The path goes on up a great bank
a smooth root rippled broken staircase
I take a step back for the run up
wary of slips, hands out just in case
intermittent steps of purchase
suddenly, I'm at the top!
freshness,clear light warms at my face
canal bank, I have to stop
on the other side the tow path
home of dog walkers and the poles
of fishermen who sit for hours
staring at their orange rolls
of tape around their floating lures
this is leisure for these types
one looks annoyed at my invasion
of his trap set for a bite
I nod somewhat apologetic
wipe my hands clean down my side
I look around like a small child
wondering if it seems all right?
is it okay to walk this way?
when you are old enough to know
that ghosts and treasure
life and leisure
ended a long time ago.





Copyright © poeticjestix ... [ 2011-08-13 01:43:55]
(Date/Time posted on site)





Advertisments:






Previous Posted Poem         | |         Next Posted Poem


 
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.
Re: i stopped building dens when I was ten (User Rating: 1 )
by CommasCanSeperate on Saturday, 13th August 2011 @ 04:43:56 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
I love the way you've written this with such skill, even though it's almost in child form you look deeper into it, and lives commiserations appear x




While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com