Enclosure

[Raisin]

Once she leaves the city, she finds herself
in an alien universe, hidden from
the rest of civilisation.
The atmosphere is imprinted
by the memory of a thousand creatures
and their ancestors.
A lack of glass or metal or plastic
encourages her to take off her shoes,
so her toes can squirm in the soil.
It tickles the soles of her feet
and she pushes them deeper in to the ground.
She throws back her head and laughs,
the sound of her voice
rings like a bell and startles the birds,
who launch themselves
from the branches and soar upwards.

The tawny hide of a young stag glints
in the light melting gently through the leaves,
showering him in gold.
She feels wealthier
than the richest man could ever feel
by gouging deep wounds in the earth,
and spitting out his treasure.
The noise of snapping twigs remind the deer
of gunfire they are born to dodge
on a regular basis.
Their heads dart up in fear,
and delicate, skeletal legs tremble.
They bolt. Flitting through the trees
and flying over the ground
like the arrows Robin Hood fired,
sleek bodies curving around thin air.

Brambles puncture holes in her bare skin,
making it weep. The blood spatters on to rotting wood,
ants and other insects scatter
alarmed at this scarlet rain that reeks
of salt, and rust, and iron.
She is not alarmed at the sensation,
a pleasant feeling familiar to when
her cat pulls his claws over her arm
to show his affection.
The sediment oozing from the broken stems clings to her legs
and paints them green so they blend with the foliage.
Her torso seems to float above the ground,
brushing the tops of the ferns
to make them sway,
throwing moisture from the leaves
and in to the air.

The air tastes different without the tang
that comes with pollution stinging the inside of her nostrils
like an offending wasp. She closes her eyes.
Instead, she can smell lavender, and the damp
earthy smell of the forest floor.
The only sound she can hear is her own breathing,
she feels alone and content.
Another odour is testing her senses, shocked
she realises that bacon is frying.
Her eyes flash open, she hears an alarm ringing.
The covers on her bed are pushed back across her legs
and she struggles to sit up. Pulling on a dressing gown as she moves,
she spies the pot plant that waits limply
on the other side of the room.
Picking up a glass of water, she walks to the window sill
and pours it over the gasping soil.

[Helen Bywater]

Once she leaves the city, she finds herself
in an alien universe, hidden from
the rest of civilisation.
The atmosphere is imprinted
by the memory of a thousand creatures
and their ancestors.
A lack of glass or metal or plastic
encourages her to take off her shoes,
so her toes can squirm in the soil.
It tickles the soles of her feet
and she pushes them deeper in to the ground.
She throws back her head and laughs,
the sound of her voice
rings like a bell and startles the birds,
who launch themselves
from the branches and soar upwards.

The tawny hide of a young stag glints
in the light melting gently through the leaves,
showering him in gold.
She feels wealthier
than the richest man could ever feel
by gouging deep wounds in the earth,
and spitting out his treasure.
The noise of snapping twigs remind the deer
of gunfire they are born to dodge
on a regular basis.
Their heads dart up in fear,
and delicate, skeletal legs tremble.
They bolt. Flitting through the trees
and flying over the ground
like the arrows Robin Hood fired,
sleek bodies curving around thin air.

Brambles puncture holes in her bare skin,
making it weep. The blood spatters on to rotting wood,
ants and other insects scatter
alarmed at this scarlet rain that reeks
of salt, and rust, and iron.
She is not alarmed at the sensation,
a pleasant feeling familiar to when
her cat pulls his claws over her arm
to show his affection.
The sediment oozing from the broken stems clings to her legs
and paints them green so they blend with the foliage.
Her torso seems to float above the ground,
brushing the tops of the ferns
to make them sway,
throwing moisture from the leaves
and in to the air.

The air tastes different without the tang
that comes with pollution stinging the inside of her nostrils
like an offending wasp. She closes her eyes.
Instead, she can smell lavender, and the damp
earthy smell of the forest floor.
The only sound she can hear is her own breathing,
she feels alone and content.
Another odour is testing her senses, shocked
she realises that bacon is frying.
Her eyes flash open, she hears an alarm ringing.
The covers on her bed are pushed back across her legs
and she struggles to sit up. Pulling on a dressing gown as she moves,
she spies the pot plant that waits limply
on the other side of the room.
Picking up a glass of water, she walks to the window sill
and pours it over the gasping soil.

Hi Raisin,

First impressions (I must go and make dinner in a minute):

Interesting read. I like S2 a lot, but "on a regular basis" seems superfluous.

a pleasant feeling familiar to when
her cat pulls his claws over her arm

seemed rather a clumsy way of putting it. I'm not even sure it's a correct usage of familiar, and "alarmed" in the previous line is rather close to the previous "alarmed". I'm sure you can improve on those lines.

That's all for now.

Cheers,
H

Edit: speaking of clumsy ways of putting things, I wrote

"alarmed" in the previous line is rather close to the previous "alarmed".

I'm sure I could have improved on that line! Well, you knew what I meant.

[Elphin]

Raisin

Too close to prose for my liking. I think you need to find the essential image from this and build around it - I suspect its somewhere in the last stanza. Be cruel get the scalpel out and cut away all the spare and you will find what you were looking to say.

Be brave

elph

[Raisin]

Hi Helen, thanks for your advice, you actually pointed out the bits I wasn't very comfortable with so well done I thought "on a regular basis" sounds rubbish, you said it in a more polite way. Also the bit with the cat, I didn't really know how to construct that sentence, I'll shuffle it around a bit.

Thanks again

Hi Elph, yep, very prosaic and I'm terrible at cutting things out, I never know what bits to keep and what bits to chuck. If you could give me an example of how you'd change it that would be great. (I'll give it a go but I think I'll make an even bigger mess of it)

Thanks to you as well,

Raisin

[ray miller]

An example of how you might make it more compact and snappier:a thousand creatures and their ancestors imprint upon the atmosphere.'Course you may not want snappy.
birds, who launch from branches soaring upwards?
Wouldn't "showered in gold" be more apt?
You could end sentence on gunfire and begin next sentence with instinctively. The air tastes different without the polluting tang?

Hope it helps. Nice sentiments in the poem.

[Raisin]

Hi Ray, you're given me some good ideas on how to tidy up some of the lines

Thanks,

Raisin

[Lovely]

I would snip it in places for it deserves respect.

There's a powerful rhyme running through her always.

Love this: "Rings like a bell and startles the birds,
who launch themselves
from the branches and soar upwards..