Her Heart was the Forest

I met her where the sunlight kissed the earth

I met her where the golden light 

Filtered the branches of the pine trees.

She came into sight, 

From the sheets of the fog, 

The dew on the grass 

Kissed her bare feet 

Tiny rain drops clung to the curls of her hair 

And on the needle leaves 

And my breath also hung,

With the rain on the trees, 

A realm of diamonds flattering the fairy princess in the sugar-white frock.

The blackbird's song bled 

Into my ears 

Crestfallen loveliness in its sound.

She moved with the breeze of the young spring, 

And invited me to sit on the rock that slept,

Beneath the blanket of moss and yellow flowers. 

I had often rehearsed the stories I had wanted to share,

My plan was to inspire and impress her,

To ask her a hundred questions,

And plead with her to lend me strength and magic and contentment,

But the words had dissolved, 

A sigh lost in the mist of her olive green eyes 

Irises that held the wisdom of a thousand years.

The blackbird trilled,

The clouds stretched and cleared, 

And she stroked my face, below my eye,

With the soft back of her hand,

Her sweet smile was my haven 

Her gratitude was my doctrine 

And her heart was the forest.

Author's Note

I love this woman so much and I'd be happy if this poem flatters her raw beauty even slightly. She already knows how lucky I am to have her by my side. I am thankful and all the warmth and kindness she has invested in me, I want to share with the world as well.
All reviews are welcome. Thank you for reading. <3

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Some of your lines are beautifully poetic and descriptive. Keep writing.

Chris

[YouoweYoupay]

Thank you, Christine. I will keep writing. :)

[Chris Shaw]

I've come back to read this delight for a second time. Even better this time round.

[JayG]

Seems to me that you are so busy trying to be poetic and visual that you’re losing sight of logic, and allowing intent to blind you to reality. Remember, you begin reading with all the necessary emotions and understandings already in place. The reader has only what the words suggest to them. Here’s what hit me:

• I met her where the golden light filtered the crown of the pine trees.

Seems to me that this person met the unknown “her” in the treetops, since it didn’t filter through the trees to reach the ground, it filters the treetops—which makes no sense.

• She came into sight, from the sheets of the fog,

The comma seems unnecessary, as does “the” before fog. That aside, I’ve seen a lot of fog, but never seen it divided into sheets. Remember, fog is really a cloud that’s too lazy to fly. In any case, looking through them, one couldn’t tell there were gaps. And in any case, how can we have “golden” sunlight and fog at the same time? It is possible, as the last of it burns away, but that’s what you’ve said, and the reader has no access to your intent.

• The dew on the grass kissed her bare feet

Here we establish that there’s dew.

• Tiny rain drops clung to the curls of her hair And on the needle leaves

Trees have needles OR leaves. And pine trees definitely have needles. And: here we have rain on the needles. You can’t have both rain and dew. Fog can place droplets on everything, but they’re not raindrops. And if her hair is wet, curls seem not to fit.

I’m assuming that for all, you mean the droplets of fog, but that’s not what you said, and the reader has only what you say, not what you mean.

The problem I see is that as you read, every line points to images, memories, and thoughts about her that reside in your mind. And that’s great…when you read—even when she does.

But for the reader? For them, every line points to images, memories, and thoughts about her that reside in YOUR mind. The idea isn’t to tell people how you feel, it’s to make the reader feel it. And that means inviting them in and making it matter to them, not talking about what matters to you. Make them fall in love with her. Trigger images that exist in their mind. Use words and situations that make them recall and relive, not “hear about.”

In this you tell of her appearing, but not of what that appearance does to you, and why. And since you don’t, how can the reader feel as you do, or even know it?

In short, show the reader what it’s like to be there, and be you, don’t tell them. Make them care.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/

[StarNinja]

Hmm, I'm not so sure. Poetry works, even without a solid grounding in the material. Or as some nerd put it, "Poetry uses the aesthetic and rhythmic qualities of language—such as phonaesthetics, sound symbolism, and metre—to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, the prosaic ostensible meaning. Emphasis on in place of. Like, underline that part, peeps."

[John the Baptist]

Reads like an old folk ballad.

[YouoweYoupay]

Yeah? Thanks for stopping by!