Monthly Archives: March 2015

Genesis of a Dryad

03302015-0001Beyond the Fence
Genesis of a Dryad


Prenatal voyage shelless,
wombless, without shelter.
The human that bore me
a passage way, a conduit
to world of woods and thickets.
Fragment of primal essence
set free for a time, a journey.

First memories of Grandmother:
fleshy, round and delicious;
I wanted her to know
fierceness of my love;
I bit her as hard as
new teeth would allow.
I wished to devour her
so intense my devotion.

I wandered among hills
and copses, a return home,
to the place my mother dwells;
rise and dip of terrain
outline her tender bosom;
pound of waves, heart’s rhythm;
vagrant breeze her breath
against my face.

Since childhood I have run,
from dwelling place of men,
into her welcoming arms
to sleep contented nights
upon her warm earth,
to wander fields and thickets
on winter’s clear, crisp days.
Her many moods reflect my own.

Always concerns, controversies:
their little girl, first born,
so aloof from convention.
A child who spends spans
in forest; returns dirty,
scratched, clutching latest
treasure for growing menagerie.

If I had been the original,
on first rumor of the tree
it would become my quest;
I would not require
temptation of a snake.

Lainie Senechal
 This poem was one( of two) featured entries for the week of March 16th on the website 

The judge, Charlie Whinney wrote about the poem: “My first short-listed piece is the one I enjoyed reading the most. It is a high-quality poem that tackles the title in a brilliant, imaginative and unlikely way. ‘Genesis of a Dryad ‘ draws seamlessly on mythology, fantastical anecdote and biblical themes to build a complete narrative that is both descriptive of nature and also a life story with tenuous but tantalising analogies. I might be reading too much into this, but I liked the use of myth for this title as for young children ‘Mom’ or ‘Mummy’ is a concept bigger than the mere practical and physical; ‘Mother’ is the solid unmoveable reference around which the rest of life revolves, a force in nature like gravity. The mythical Dryad in this poem has many of these qualities, but also has its own life, rhythms and agenda described that children could never perceive, and the Dryad becomes more and more ‘human’ as the poem progresses.”


A Spring Poem

img-929020107-0002Full Moon Caught in Branches

From parents, a gift,
small cottage beside
shore of alluring lake,
where winter wends to an end.
Spring arises beneath snow
as bulbs surge from slumber.
Lake stays silent;
cover of ice stills surface.
Fishermen spend milder hours
near holes drilled into shell;
lazily lounging as dawn’s light
spreads its soft blush
across a blank canvas and
morning’s moon is caught,
in web of bare branches.
Birds twitter and tweet
fresh tunes to set territories;
serene season nears its conclusion.
Soon, ice will crack and moan;
teeth of wind-driven waves
will gnaw at its edges.
Mergansers will paddle between
floes, a respite on journey north.
Breezes will birth a constant murmur
where noisy gulls and silent falcons
will search for sustenance.
The cycle continues, handed down
to former and recent residents
from the native dwellers
who camped along these shores.




On this harsh, blustery day
heart holds only spring.
Sun will not be halted
in its march to rule the hours.
Spirits lift up to the light;
we hear a new tune
trilled in morning’s twilight;
evening’s glimmer lingers
along horizon, competes
with the rising moon.
Storms do not defeat us;
their bellows have
a distant, hollow tone.
We are already infatuated
with the romance of spring;
like lovers in a trance,
no vagrancies of weather
will distract us from
the rapture of life’s renewal.

Lainie Senechal