The Box (a tromp through the woods)

Added: Jan 19, 2008

From: ravensky23

Duration: 5:31

A tromp through the woods behind our house on a snowy evening... I know this vid doesn't quite match the visuals the poem may inspire. I only hope it doesn't interfere. It serves as a visual back-drop to this poem I wrote about 11 years ago. Showcasing my poetry is new to me on YouTube. So is everything on YT actually. Even though I have been on here well over a year, I have only been making videos 2 months. So I tried sitting and reading the poem to the camera. Booooor-ing! I just stared at the paper, read it and never looked up. So I did a compilation of photos for the last poem video, Mists of Heather. That sort of worked, but now on to this one. I wrote this poem in about 5 minutes upon waking from a dream. I grabbed pen and paper by my nightstand and wrote it down exactly like you see below. Never changed a thing. Let me know what you think. And, if you have ideas for better ways to showcase poetry, let me know. I need a new computer with an upgraded operating system before I get too fancy with the vids. But, I long for the day I can be more creative and use my new camcorder! Maybe these poems will be revisited then. Oh, I zoom in on a beaver lodge on the far side of the pond. But it just looks like a snow-covered lump! The Box The prince removed, from a shelf on the wall A carved ivory box, barely 5 inches tall He studied the work, traced each line with his hand Felt that the workmanship, was unknown to man The corners were golden, trimmed with the sun Each hinge was a masterpiece, second to none But in spite of the hinges, the clasp and the pin It baffled the prince, which way to get in For days, many months, he struggled and tried To open it up, to see what's inside But the box, it eluded, the answer lay hid In mindless determination, he tried the small lid It never occurred that he use any tool Somehow he knew, like some unwritten rule That his hands and his heart would open the prize He'd researched and asked, the old and the wise Many had told him to set the box down To handle it not, or to sell it in town To pack it away, let it gather much dust Forget silly notions, ignore them, he must A plan was devised, to help the prince sleep The small box was stolen, and buried quite deep In the moss covered garden, near a wall of decay The priests of the castle, hid it safely away When it's absence was noticed next morn, by the prince He refused to eat, take no sustenance The wise men were baffled, their plan had back-fired The once handsome prince, now grew haggard and tired Many days passed, and he seemed to go mad Wandered the gardens, empty and sad Till one day a shy child, of the gardener's wife Took the hand of the prince, and saved the man's life She had seen the priests, watched where they'd hid The small ivory box, with the unyielding lid Together they dug, his soul barely living The child gave him strength; she was loving and giving Nestled in linen, he found it that day Pulled it up from the grave, and wept in dismay For the gold had all tarnished, from days of neglect The ivory was muddied, close on inspect The clasp seemed broken, even though he tried It still wouldn't give way, its secret safe inside Tears flowed from his eyes, as he looked at the child She wiped them away, and tenderly smiled "My prince your tears will open the box" She spoke as she wiped them at once on the lock Quite effortlessly, as a feather in wind The stubborn box opened, no contents within At least none that was seen when you looked inside But the prince's eyes widened, saw the face of his bride And several small children, his parents, and others The soft, tender faces of sisters, and brothers For you see many years of politics and war Made this gentle man harden, emotions a chore Daily his duties had enveloped his life Till no feelings were there, not for children, or wife Then the box had appeared on the shelf in the hall Held the love that he'd lost, but had not lost at all The prince was elated, turned to thank the child She was not to be found, only bracken gone wild He searched every inch, by the gray castle wall Then replaced the small box, on the shelf in the hall The child wasn't real, the gardener had said Their only daughter, was long ago dead 'She'd died in the garden, lost her step on the wall A loving, beautiful child missed by us all' So the prince changed his life, and once again loved He knew he'd been visited by an angel from above A small, shy cherub, had watched over his soul Gave him back his life, made love his new goal The prince became king, as time marched on And all people said, he was kindly and strong At the start of each day, the king pondered the box On the shelf in the hall, with the green, tarnished lock He'd send a swift prayer, to the cherub above, That sweet little child, who showed him where to find love by RavenSky June 30, 1996

Channel: People

Tags: box  evening  on  poem  poetry  ravensky23  snowy  the  through  walking  woods 

Rating: 5.00 (11 ratings)    Views: 410    Comments: 33