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    These Woodlands: Poems
    These Woodlands: Poems
    These Woodlands: Poems
    Ebook107 pages34 minutes

    These Woodlands: Poems

    By C. G. Schalk

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    About this ebook

    In his first volume of poetry, C. G. Schalk contemplates nature, meditates on faith, and observes Western culture. Wrestling with a sinful nature, he finds resolve in the grace and salvation offered in Christ. God is celebrated as Creator, and emotions evoked by the changing of the seasons are explored. The tension of living in a world that is both beautiful and affected by the fall of man is pondered. For readers seeking simple verse to enjoy with coffee, this book is sure to invite reflection.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherResource Publications
    Release dateNov 28, 2023
    ISBN9781666762945
    These Woodlands: Poems
    Author

    C. G. Schalk

    C. G. Schalk is a poet, songwriter, and musician. He was born and raised in Missouri, where he currently lives. The landscapes and seasons experienced in the rural countryside there have provided inspiration for many of the musings found in his poems.

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      Book preview

      These Woodlands - C. G. Schalk

      Basking

      It is autumn,

      And the musky dust from fallen trees

      Mixes with the steam from my coffee.

      I listen to the gurgling stream, as pleasant as a child’s laugh,

      And the groan of ancient cedars,

      Imparting wisdom in the creaky way of wizened elders.

      Nothing hurries. Nothing worries. Not a voicemail,

      Nor a text, or a buzzer, or a bell, or a siren, or a schedule

      Or a calendar notification, or a time-card, or a yell.

      A squirrel perches, twitches, curious on his oak bough,

      Then scurries off.

      The only burst of motion in this serene sagacious space.

      Swwwwwwish, ccccreeaaaak, slowly sigh the branches of the oaks

      Leaves all ruddy, orange, and brown.

      It seems a shame, how many modern man hacks and haws to the ground

      To add another chain store to a cookie-cutter town.

      Thinking of this, I sigh with the trees.

      Do not worry, they seem to say, "We’ve been here since the dawn of time,

      And we’ll always stick around."

      Autumn In My Mind

      Swirling leaves inside my head

      Make me wish that I was home instead

      Of

      Lying here in a hotel bed

      Far away from all my dreams

      Well

      I smell the fragrance of a slow born spring

      I hear the song that the streetcars sing

      All of the subtle scents and sounds

      Like a symphony of seasons in my mind.

      The call of the wild rings again

      And the hotel phone is trying to pretend

      That

      It is my friend for waking me

      From all my pleasant dreams

      Of you.

      The light from the window is pure and warm

      The morning flies are beginning to swarm

      I startle and I wake as I realize the time

      It’s the summer of my life, but it’s autumn in my mind.

      November

      And something in the dark, brown upturned leaves scattered across the pavement

      Is singing a eulogy to the summer.

      The air is crisp with autumn’s favorite flavors,

      The trees are dark as ale.

      A whistling rustling wind carries musty whiffs of smoke across the fields

      Moistened with a lolling, lifting fog.

      The browned grass is wet with November rains

      The sky is gray and hale.

      Late Autumn

      Hale and hearty is the air

      Hot and gleaming is the hearth

      Crisp leaves everywhere

      Except upon my cozy berth.

      Here I sit by the fire

      Sipping my apple cider

      Losing track

      Of time.

      Bloody Mud

      I thrashed and I kicked in the quicksand

      As the mud oozed up to my neck.

      Thorny branches slashed at my skin

      And threatened my throat like razors.

      Blood mixed in the mud till the

      Reddish-brown slime oozed up to my chin,

      And I knew it would cover my head,

      Fill up my nostrils

      Fill up my mouth

      And choke me as death greeted me in that muddy bed.

      Then a hand reached through the

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