I Sit Under the Greenwood Tree
Photo by Jeswin Thomas from Pexels

Weekly Winners: I Sit Under the Greenwood Tree

Note: Every week we hold a weekly prompt contest where all Instagram writers are encouraged to participate and get a chance to be featured on our Instagram page and this blog here. This was our second weekly prompt titled, "I sit under the greenwood tree."

"I sit under the greenwood" was initially inspired by the book of the same title, "Under the Greenwood Tree" by Thomas Hardy. There is also a poem by Shakespeare of a similar title. This is a reflective prompt and the submissions we got showed this character in almost every other piece.

I sit under the greenwood tree and think of all that has been.


I Sit Under the Greenwood Tree by Rob Dominik

Photo by Rob Mulally on Unsplash

I sat under the greenwood tree,
In awe, the fairness of the day,
Without a friend or enemy,
Did lend itself to thoughts of play.
While dawdling here in reverie,
Construction of a dream divine,
My pensive self did oversee,
Flowing with sun and honeyed wine.
Could I conceive of bitter winds,
While heaven's weather deigned to glow,
The cup before me o'erbrimmed,
No sign of storms above, below?
The distance to your weary brow
Seemed shorter in the present, still,
Under the greenwood tree I mused,
"Could such a brow be life distilled?"

 

 

 

Judge's Note

Reading this was a pleasure in itself due to the rhyme and rhythm set in this poem. However, what made this stand out among all other poems was its gentle, metaphoric, imagery. The Shakespearean inspired style of this poem shows the effort and time put into this. To simply say, this could get no more perfect.

I Sit Under the Greenwood Tree by Kim

Photo by artofraga

I sit under the greenwood tree,
Back against towering bark,
Legs splayed out before me,
watching the blue sky go dark.

The moon ignites the sky,
To hasten the dying of day,
Perhaps she fears we'd soon
Forget her if light were to stay.

Though I'm aware that fire,
does not indefinitely persist,
and must be fed or fueled
continually to subsist.

The fact that such stark
Beauty comes from dying
light makes me deeply fear
the arrival of the night.

I sit under the greenwood tree,
Back against towering bark,
My blue eyes cower as
This world turns dark.

Judge's Note

The imagery you have woven using such simple words is extraordinary. While reading this, I could picture myself sitting under the greenwood tree watching the sky go dark and the moon come out. The flow, rhyme and emotion add to this poem, creating a masterpiece. I especially loved the comparison of moon and the dark. Light and dark will always co-exist. Instead of running from the dark, we should know that we are the light.

An Ounce of Poetry by Indrani

Photo by Dawid Łabno on Unsplash

I sit under the greenwood tree,
        Watching watercolor sunsets,
        Laid out on earth like primrose hope;
        Perched on my eyelids;
As I indulge into intangible memories,
        Of me running into the meadow
        of your vacant arms;
Leaning softly onto your shoulders,
        Stealing unscheduled pleasures
        from under the masked acoustics
        of the rose-gold evening;
Arching its winged heart onto mine,
        And I transform into a silken whisper,
        Under the moonlight.

Your words walk barefoot,
Towards my surging passion,
And I rise in love,
        Amidst the trembling silence
        of cranberry skies,
Tasting flavor of fire
under our deep sighs;
        Seeding moans on miles of ruins;
        Growing flowers on asphalt beginnings;
        Intertwining our universe,
And braving to mend our sunrise,
By planting amber kisses onto our horizons.

Honey, you and I are neon freckles
poised like morning dew on velvet leaves;
        Washing the stains of troubled histories,
        Burning them under sunlight;
We are vulnerable like the tide,
        Humming into the sea
        of our shared serenity;
We choose to adorn each other,
        Like pieces of jewelry:
        I become you and you become me;
Not needing a ceremony
to fasten our hearts,
Perhaps, just an ounce of poetry
to bandage our healing parts.

Judge's Note

The melancholy, passion, yearning and Love imbued in these lines through your words is absolutely stunning. How delicately, yet passionately, you handled the topic of romantic, physical, love is exemplary. The use of metaphors, enjambment, and personification gave this poem a new spirit. In short, I loved reading this.

 

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