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I end with Bloom and sweat

I end with Bloom and sweating,
an achemical green settling on the valley

through my ears I hear him, trudge Dublin streets,
dragging along through interior monologue chains,

allusions I have listened to for years,
they pass as glacial, slow understanding comes

of that intellectual apparatus,
like a mass for the world, none can escape

so said one. My labours begun an hour ago,
of saw, and split, and cracked elbow

have berthed on the shores of these hills:
a bisected tree, low birds deep beneath

sitting slow, dripping, my fog breath
matching that of the valley, grown dark

fuel gone, job half done, I hear the crack
of bracken tundra begun, an approach

of human feet this time, has run,
the phosphor green glow is changing

for orange tender slow, all I can do is look
and sit with its surreal beauty

and wonder at this victory small,
and why no dropping sun from here,

to see,only leaden sky and hill to light
my hungered way home

where smoke and crow roam the sky
and call 'yes, yes' you will come!

Or you end in Bloom, and breathe here
slow, as seasoned wood, on your own.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Last few words: 
I couldn't write a spring poem, but it's Autumn here again, and time to roam the woods, looking for wood, and (only when its safe kids) listen to audiobooks under your ear defenders, after the chainsaw barrage , I listen yearly to the RTE recording of Ulysses - it's truly magical, and the best ever made. Winter is coming! Hope you're enjoying spring up there :)
Editing stage: 


Hi Vandiemenspeak
Some wonderful images there. I love an alchemical green settling on the valley and the leaden sky and hill to light your hungered way home.
I can almost smell the damp mists. Jx

Remember we are a workshop site.
Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

It's a strange season, it's supposed to be just the other side of mid-autumn I guess, it's freezing in the mornings, warm in the afternoon, then can be drizzly and close in the afternoon. I'm an interloper - but the locals tell me that Autumn and winter down here used to be much more harsh. The old English oaks seem to thrive in this climate, along with the hawthorn and elder, in places I almost forget where I am, and it feels like being back on the Lincolnshire/Nottingham border.
This was the product of an afternoon chainsawing and stacking wood, down in the trees, really quite wonderful the light - I never saw anything like it until I came here, hills everywhere in the morning, all seem to blaze with this almost luminous green.

Thanks, take care,


Chris Hall - Tasmania

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

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