What is it about the lakes,
And trees, and valleys, and mountaintops
That make the hearts of poets race?
What is it about the trees
Turning brown and shedding their leaves
That flutters the poet’s heart like a breeze?
What is it about the vast expanse of skies
Painted by the sunsets and, on occasion, a sunrise–
That gives the poet life?
Somewhere plays an old, familiar tune,
By a poet with nowhere to run to,
Tired of everyone but her beloved muse;
The song blends in with the air around me,
As I recall a rainy afternoon I spent frolicking
Through hills as lush and green as they could be–
Drenched to the bone, I let the clouds pass me by,
As the refrain from the song echoes in my head:
“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die…”
Chamomiles bloom along the path leading home,
I let the song play in my head, just a little more;
The air around me is cold, but my heart is warm–
As I sit on the porch swing, wondering what to write,
I think of all the poets who turned to nature,
Even on the dreariest of days and nights.
What is it about nature that draws us in so?
What is it about the clouds and the hills
That feels like a part ripped out of my soul?
At night, as I watch the stars peek through,
And the cold winds whistle, sharp and cruel,
I wonder if this has always been true–
For a poet to find themselves in nature,
Like a concept: unpredictable and abstract,
Like the poet who just wanted the lakes to take her;
Me, I wonder if I’d be one with the stars above,
When I finally am turned to nothing but dust–
The truth remains, nature will always be a poet’s first love.
~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.
Today’s prompt via napowrimo.net is to try writing a poem that imposes a song on a place, using the interaction between the song and the place, as well as a reference to a plant in the poem. I knew I wanted today’s poem to be about a rainy afternoon I spent at the hills that surround my cousin’s farmhouse. As for the song, at the time of my visit, the only song playing in a loop in my head was ‘The Lakes’ by Taylor Swift. If you’d been there, looking at the beautiful green hills with brooks and bubbling streams everywhere, you’d know why it couldn’t have been any other song. If you haven’t heard it before, here it is:
I would give anything to visit again. Every time I’ve been there, I’ve ended up having the best time ever. And before I even wrote this poem, reading the prompt immediately reminded me of this song because it has everything that the prompt is talking about. It’s perfect. But also, it made me think how much poets love nature. It physically pains us to be away from nature. We’re either out here staring at the moon and the stars, or romanticizing the rains and the snow. We see poetry everywhere. It goes for every single poet I’ve ever known or read about. You cannot separate a poet and nature. They’re almost synonymous. Almost as if our lives were meant to just be about appreciating nature, and not whatever the horrors of adulting have unleashed upon us.
So I just wrote about it, missing the hills dearly. Missing my cousin dearly. Missing everything about that trip, actually. I hope you liked it.
See you tomorrow, with another poem?
Yours truly,
The Shubhster.
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This has been day 16 of 30!
See you tomorrow?
Cheerio! Xx
~Featured Image by Claudio Testa on Unsplash
The Shubhster Diaries 