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    Poem of the Month Contest Winner 
 Category:  General Poetry
  Posted: August 26, 2013      Views: 1177
Chapters:
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Exceptional
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Chapter 16 of the book The Different Faces Of Love
Written about a girl who longs to see the wild, wild Forest
"Oh, Wild Forest, Wild" by RGstar

Oh, Wild Forest, Wild



She comes as she comes; her fiddle plays the tune,
Black swirling hair of distant youth, and a face that melts the moon,
Awake, Oh, wild forest; to you her soul is bound,
Hark you woodland cherubs hark, she walks your hallowed ground,
See how your streams, they greet her, your purest emerald lake,
Your leaves so brown beneath her gown, wild acorns yawn awake,
Tonight, bareback, she'll ride you, and run all through your veins;
She'll splash, scratch, jump and thump, her dance of a thousand pains,
Her feet are bare yet slender, sharp thorns no mark they make,
Her fingers sleek and tender, each touch a flower awakes,

Oh, wild forest, wild,
Wild, wild forest, wild,

She raises thus her fiddle, C- sharp she plays in jest,
Ants prance, recoil, giggle and foil, as they march to nature's fest,
Let the rabbit dance a Jiggle, let the doe hop thrice the breadth,
Let the fox with a swish of a whirling tail, fan leaves from autumn's breast,
Now the dragonflies join humming, a constant minuet,
As the wild boars bass a heavy tune, her fiddle responds the test,
Stomp, wild horses, stomp, let earth receive your drum,
And you little frogs of green and brown, you need not sing, but hum,
Five hundred fairies mingle; descend as heaven's cloud,
Sprinkling dust of diamond lights, their wings so thrill the crowd,

Oh, wild forest, wild,
Wild, wild forest, wild,

As sleep finally claims her, and the fiddle has given its best,
Swans from afar, brought hither a star, their wings they made her nest,
And now as she lay sleeping and counting sheep in rest,
The nightingale sings a lullaby, and the wolves her guardian crest,
And the choirs lay now somber; the crickets pipe the tune,
The owl begins its lonely call, as eagles fly the moon,
''Hush'' the forest whispers, ''tomorrow dreams will fade,
The sandman comes with his old brown sack, with pockets full of jade,
When the sun appears, you'll waken, in your fiddle you'll find a star,
It will shine there to remind you, when you need we won't be far,''

Oh, wild forest, wild,
Wild,wild forest, wild,
Sweet dreams, wild forest, wild,
Wild,wild forest, wild.


By RGstar
Poem of the Month
Contest Winner

Recognized

The book continues with Philosophically Me. We will provide a link to it when you review this below.

Author Notes
This poem I wrote as a dedication to one of our own writers who I think writes remarkably well for her age She read my poem (A Reason to Cry)of childhood agony and reviewed it as though she was an adult. Her poems are remarkable for age. I wrote this for her,to thank her also for sharing a little of her personal situation, as well as a motivation to keep writing. She always wanted to see the wild forest but never has. So I wrote this poem for her so she could be a little nearer the wild, wild forest that she longs to see. This is written for you. You are a star, and you are the hope of the future. Go forward, your time will come. Keep your dreams alive, and keep writing and playing that fiddle. You will survive. With love and great honor. RGstar
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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