Dear diary,
August 19th, 2000
Today was my last day at camp. It was so fun, but I am so sad that
I have to leave. This being one of my most favourite experiences, I am
dedicating the following free verse poem to my time at camp, calling it “
Grown by the sounds of the fowl.”
Grown by the sounds of the fowl,
Piping their melodies away
Like the tune
I use to play soberly.
The splendour blinded a watch.
Ears blinded by the call.
Grown by the sounds of the fowl,
Bubbling herbs and fronds,
Loaves and a pinch of sweet.
It could be seen no other verdure.
Throughout tall woods with ropes ever so bent,
With the wind blowing and the hours, I've spent.
Grown by the sound of the fowl,
Water was waving ever so smoothly.
Gently swing the plank on water unheard.
How no simile can be compared
To the luring crude reed?
Beauty at first sight seen.
Grown by the sound of the fowl,
The Alps as a throne.
Shelter disguise, home unknown.
Precariously stood on the cliff ahead,
Trying to perplexedly hear that which is unsaid.
One to three paused was the source.
Grown by the sound of the robin,
Unable to feel thy limbs.
Stricken by water,
Vista the original crude states of beauty.
Melting by the fire,
A warmth that is desired.
Grown by the sounds of the fowl,
Mallow tarnishing with and Coco.
How my shadow becomes ever so small.
The feelings of ghastly sorcery are receding in
the air.
Mother’s braiding their womb.
Oh, how beautiful it is to see.
Grown by the sounds of the fowl,
Uneven sand,
Water on land.
The rainbow Sun.
Risen by the sounds of the fowl,
My soul left with the sound of the fowl.
I hope that I could one day be able to come back to this beautiful place and relive this poem.
xoxo,