Ashridge Forest and its wild deer

Commons and chalk downland
A green and forested wood
Fallow Deers are wild they are
500 acres should
Be the draw for city dwellers
From London and we know
For The beeches and the many types of trees
There are on show

A myriad of wild life
Lots and lots of Deer
The fallow and the munkjac
Sometimes they do appear
Because the cull is often on
Deers work out that they
Would be better off in smaller groups
As they go about their day

It makes a lot of sense ofcourse
As for the munkjacs they
Are solitary animals
That are shot too anyway
From November they are cut down
By the murderers who try
And sell the flesh in the monument shop
Which of course is why

They have found it true to do it
Stalk and murder they
Say there is no profit in the kill
But right away
We know they are making money
And selling the venison on
And probably wont be satisfied
Till all the deer are gone.

its land rich with good wildlife
Butterflies galore
All sorts of birds fly around about
And,insects for sure
Its a really special forest
Landscaped all about
Beautiful trees and shrubs and bushes
And thats without a doubt.

Just being in the thick of it
Soaking up its thrust
There is no artist anywhere
No one has discussed
Every single facet
Engraved on heart and mind
A rich mosaic of wonderment
That anyone can find

Every sentence holds account
Its lexical its there
Along with every living thing
That ever came to share
The clarity of each morning
The exuberance of night
A blow by blow account of life
Threaded with bright light

The forcefulness of being
Both ardent and both bold
The euphony and balance
On the symmetry be sold
Every intonation
Or modulated form
Every part of everywhere
Each shelter in each storm

The forest is beguiling
Its parlance has evolved
The great coming together
Where problems are all solved
History is rampantly
Both boisterous and not
Minimalist and busy
Just everything its got

Drive into its secret places
Let the quietness roll on by
Feel the depths of every moment
Know the vigour let the eye
Wander being inspired gently
Bells and whistles everywhere
The miracles are underated
The wind with its falsetto air
Conversation we can hear them
An intercourse of high regard
Nature the great mother knows it
For On the stage of life she’s starred

So many souls do come together
In the shadows they proclaim
The essence of a moving picture
Nothing really is the same
Only the consolidation
Of spirit in its abstract way
Can ever bring the wondrous meaning
Collectively into each day

Man believes his right of killing
Of choosing which soul he might shoot
No rhyme or reason just the season
Science under siege no root
Truthfully tween eye and body
Who will leave this place today
Who will be sold off as dead flesh
Conservations ruling sway

The curtain call is short befitting
Any life or path we know
The drama of the kill and after
In what is the final glow
Inescapability
Determinism so to say
As the curtains drop like lead balloons
The souls of victims fly away

Ashridge holds its thrilling passage
Astral influence is mine
Sitting in a glade of colour
In a light that dares to shine
Through the branches so descending
Into idylls where I be
Sharing of the glorious spirit
And its spontaneity.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

HTML tags are not allowed.