Willowed will

Willow me from wont, let be
just you and me; let old be gone
send silver, gold and let us see,
in billows, fields aglow, the way,
from habit to adventures, from
what’s withered into spring.
Take my hand and bend your
will to want what willows send.

Pollard Willows by Vincent van Gogh

Pollard Willows by Vincent van Gogh

Brendan wants us to write a charm to drive whatever darkness away we feel at toads, somehow I feel that wont and habit is one of the curses I live in, like one of records set on repeat. As with every charm it needs to have some rhymes and rhythm. I will link up to Poetry Pantry tomorrow morning as well

September 10, 2016

35 responses to “Willowed will

  1. Spot-on, friend, and a darkness which shadow every person who contents with the known rather than be troubled and trebled by the unknown. Great stuff.

  2. This is so cool! Love the rhyme – you do rhyme so wonderfully well, Bjorn. But what I really think is inspired about the piece is the willow invocation. My Dad was a water diviner (ha! can you believe it – but it’s true – it has more to do with body density and a bit of tree knowledge, than folklore, I gather) An-y-w-a-yyy …I’ve seen tree branches in action – they really do bend as if by some magical power or will towards water – williows, of course, being in a league of their own. Willows will always seek water – even a severed willow branch will do that. And water is life. I took this charm/chant to be a plea for a return to the purity and simplicity of life and away from, as you put it, want and habit. Really enjoyed this!

  3. “…wont and habit” are, indeed, accursed bastards. I love the way your poem banishes them, so prettily… like a dance. If we can curse habit out of our daily living, I can’t even imagine the wonderful things we could accomplish.

  4. “From what’s withered into spring” — seems to me to express what it is like when seasonal changes take place. So often when spring comes it seems like a miracle. I hope the willows send only good things.

  5. “the way, / from habit to adventures,”, very hard but definitely rewarding and only meant for the courageous…your lines & that Van Gogh art complement each other…

  6. Such an enjoyable read, I can’t pull out a favourite line, liked it from start to finish.
    Such an apt painting to go with your poem too.

  7. I love the exploration of the word willowed – and also perhaps it’s magical properties.. the painting and the sense of moving away from those habits and wants is very refined

  8. Beautiful meter and words which seem to wander yet pull the heart to the place the poem describes. Wish I could have written this, Bjorn, and I very seldom say that.

  9. Willow me – to the whispers of her song, let me bend to hear the oracle of the willow speak for here lies the mystery of her allure. Discovering weakness and strength.

  10. Even before I read the description, I thought this could be some spell or chant. Reminds of some lines in Harry Potter 🙂 Will remember this in time of darkness, Bjorn.

  11. When came in I said to my self Van Gogh, i’m good, it was, luv his style.
    Luv your charming poem, I read where the Willow is symbolic for “increase the essence of love in our lives. ” i’m all for it

    much love…

  12. Hi Bjorn ~~ Love this Bjorn. Leaving this mess behind and going for the better life. Pilgrims?? Romantic for sure, really intriguing.
    “Willow me from wont, let be
    just you and me; let old be gone
    send silver, gold and let us see,
    in billows, fields aglow, the way,
    from habit to adventures, from
    what’s withered into spring.
    Take my hand and bend your
    will to want what willows send.”
    Sorry that I didn’t post you comment the first time I came here. I left to figure out Van Gogh, where he was and what he was doing when he painted this (the Engineer in me). I didn’t recognize it as France, and it wasn’t, should be around Nuenen, Netherlands. It was, 1884, when he was living with his parents, his father was pastoring a church thereV.
    I like Van Gogh, we spent a week in St. Remy, Provence, France, the town where he admitted himself, psychiatric care, after cutting an ear off. Visited the Olive Garden and took a picture emulating one of his famous works. Search my blog if you’re interested. This is one of the posts:

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