This site uses cookies to enhance the functionality of the site.

Non-acceptance may result in the site not functioning as expected.

The More button will take you to our Privacy Policy page.


2 minutes reading time (450 words)

Back to my Roots - Poetry Inspired by Trees


I went to the Creative Writing group in Avebury today. It was perfect. The room we were in looked over the stones and the local pub. It was a day of sunshine, then showers, then sun again, just in time for our walk! Magic. 

One suggested prompt was from the walk and I was drawn to the well known "trees" and their amazing roots. This was the inspiration for a poem about my childhood.
"The Trees" are very, very old near the Avebury stones. As I stood and looked at them, I was struck by how their roots seemed to be almost above the ground. 
In my head, I heard the words " back to my roots", which took me back to my childhood. These places such as Avebury, Stonehenge and Glastonbury always affect me emotionally.
My childhood was happy and sad at the same time. I always found it difficult to "be good", although I knew deep down that I was very loved. My mother was always trying to "keep up appearances" and I suppose we were an extension of herself. She spent hours on her sewing machine late at night, I used to here it "whirring". She made all of our clothes, including matching outfits for my sister and myself with coats! Naturally, I guess she did not want them to be dirty or scruffy. No washing machines and "vanish" was available then! 
If I feel "wobbly" or disturbed, I always go back to my roots.
Jenny Miller, in the poem, was my best friend. She was exciting and naughty and got me in to trouble. My mother tried to break the friendship. My father died when I was ten years old and I went to boarding school. My step-father later said "they are trying to break her spirit."
They suppressed "my spirit" it for a while. I became a "good girl", a prefect and passed all my exams,went to Uni, met the" right man". Of course it didn't last, hence the bid for FREEDOM in the poem!
Oh Jenny Miller!
My best friend Jenny Miller,my naughty friend
My troublemaker friend
Why did we get into trouble?
Why was naughty so much fun?
We were forever on the run, from parents, teachers, grown-ups and some...
tell -talers ..troublemakers
Why is it so hard to be good?
It was under wraps for 20 years, then burst out ,no more tears
grown up naughtiness, I have to confess.
Hidden there beneath the surface
Waiting to find a purpose.
In life I found it for a while,helping others smile.
Never again the wedding aisle
Never again trapped by his "guile"
Freedom I cry-let me fly!
Blog post and poem written by Anita Pepper
World Mental Health Day 2019 round-up! #WMHD2019
Mirror image – an opportunity for cultural practit...

Related Posts



No comments made yet. Be the first to submit a comment
Already Registered? Login Here
Thursday, 18 April 2024

By accepting you will be accessing a service provided by a third-party external to