this time, a fourteener – they can be have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables. i have tried in places on the iambic but run out of time, so here is my first draft… i am just so pleased to have made the restaints of structure!
the “four fraternal”, he called you, steadfast, solid in time.
approached across singing brooks and landscape bogged in slime,
because trees so old and solid brook a masculine tone.
i climbed to your fettered one thousand five hundred year home,
stood amongst those “mossy” “altars”, silence stretched the land.
the poem i read out to you, you seemed to understand,
whilst noise continued, birds and all, it seemed to shrink in size,
the buzz of history linked us all: poem; trees and eyes.
hecate nodded her agreement, present at this dance,
you reach for me, my soul surrenders, magic has me tranced.
your roots creep slowly through the soil, no fences box them in,
as through the years, we’ve tried to fix you, words can never win.
our human boundaries, time, ideas – all clearly you defy,
these scratchings are just noises now, a scrap thrown to the sky.