Tag Archives: woods

Children’s poem: Isabel Chenot, ‘What to Take for a Walk in the Woods’

very sensible story full of very, very, very, very, very good advice

Always carry crumbs 
when you are wandering in the woods
beside the waters –
just in case

you need to mark a trail,
like in a fairy tale.

And always have a piece of tape
in case a butterfly breaks
off its wing while fluttering,
and always 
take a pitchfork
just in case
a cow
is also
wandering.

And always carry
extra food
like
roasted beef
or chicken legs
for escaped
crocodiles,

because they like to gnaw on legs,
and always take a mongoose
to defeat the snakes,
and always take a violin
for when
the birds are stuttering.
And always carry
party hats
and birthday cake
for any sons and daughters
of destitute woodcutters
who might be having
lonely
birthdays,
and always carry
an umbrella
because –

you know why.
An elephant might fall out of the sky.

And always take a shovel
just in case
it rains –

so you can dig a little hovel
and stay dry,

and always take a potted plant
to brighten up that cozy space,

and always take a duck
in case
of lakes,

and always
carry otters.

*****

Isabel Chenot writes: “This was originally written and illustrated as a letter to the most magical six year old girl.”

‘What To Take For A Walk In The Woods’ was first published in Story Warren.

Isabel Chenot‘s first poem as a little girl was about marrying her cat Tig when she grew up: she married a good man instead, but kept scribbling poems and stories. The Joseph Tree, a collection of poems, is available from Wiseblood. For a preview of West of Moonlight, East of Dawn, her retelling of an old fairy tale, visit westofmoonlight.art.

Poem: “The Knife of Night”

Dark Woods

“Dark Trees” by MonoStep

The knife of night
Spreads swirls of black and white
Over the slice of here.

The taste is bold:
A pinch of cold,
Spiced with primeval fear.

This little poem was first published in Candelabrum, a British print magazine that ran twice yearly from 1970 for some 40 years. Its editor, Leonard McCarthy, was a lone voice dedicated to keeping traditional poetic sensibilities of metrical and rhymed
verse alive.

The poem itself came from a nighttime ramble in the forests that cut through the residential areas of Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Hundreds of acres in town are undevelopable because of steep slopes, creeks and ravines. Where the night woods are unlit except by moon and stars, there are deer, possums, foxes, flying squirrels, owls… copperheads… poison ivy… The night is beautiful, but you can’t help moving through its darkness in a different state of being, compared with daylight.