Marwood Is
Marwood is a haven
That accepts you from the very beginning
A place where you are loved
Before anyone knows your name.
Marwood is a happy, hugging home.
Laughing people cry with joy.
A caring community, this is Marwood!
Marwood is the smell
Of friends, just as disheveled as I.
Of dirt and trees and water.
But mostly friends.
Marwood is a man
Damp and Dank. Sorely stung.
Mated, committed, transmuted
But absent (It’s okay)
He speaks in service
With simple self-effacing solidity
For the future.
Marwood is hot.
Hotter than a boiling pot.
So I jump in the deep blue pool
It is the only place where I can be cool.
Inside I see Collin.
It looked like he had fallen.
But before I can jump to that conclusion,
I realize it is an illusion.
For tin that moment he zooms up into the air,
And takes off like a flare.
First it is a race.
But then I realize that’s impossible to win
So it becomes a chase.
Marwood is looking at a mirror with blurred reflection
It is only until you notice the frame
That it comes into focus.
Marwood is telling someone the story behind a prized possession, getting honest
compassion and sympathy in return.
It is falling asleep in someone’s arms during free-time, with no complaints from
either person.
It is being able to trust your peers with your darkest secrets over a glowing
flame.
It is a place, no, a world, where you are closer to perfect than you ever were
before.
Marwood is a circle
Holding hands, everyone sits.
The central fire crackles
Like restrained hopeful hatchets.
They listen to the song
Of a long lost freedom
Sharing love and peace
Both alive and numb.
They watch the huge fire
Exploding with courage
The release deep dark secrets
A trust fall from a ridge.
You open yourself up
And pray to your gods
Search deep in your heart
Your mind tenderly prods.
You finish your story
Your soul jumps with glee
Your mind wanders mindlessly
You now can be free.
Marwood is marvelous at open campfire
Emotions are running wild
There are sad stories
There are glad stories
It’s love.
You walk up to smell smoke
It’s not a bad smell.
It’s love.
You feel independent
A wonderful feeling
It’s love.
You know you have everyone’s ears
You know you’re close to everyone
You can’t touch their love
You tell your story
Sad, glad, it doesn’t matter
It’s fabulous
It’s fearless
It’s love.
It’s mainly Marwood
-The Electric Blue Rebellion
(I bolded the part that I wrote. The Electric Blue Rebellion was the name we gave our poetry class.)
That accepts you from the very beginning
A place where you are loved
Before anyone knows your name.
Marwood is a happy, hugging home.
Laughing people cry with joy.
A caring community, this is Marwood!
Marwood is the smell
Of friends, just as disheveled as I.
Of dirt and trees and water.
But mostly friends.
Marwood is a man
Damp and Dank. Sorely stung.
Mated, committed, transmuted
But absent (It’s okay)
He speaks in service
With simple self-effacing solidity
For the future.
Marwood is hot.
Hotter than a boiling pot.
So I jump in the deep blue pool
It is the only place where I can be cool.
Inside I see Collin.
It looked like he had fallen.
But before I can jump to that conclusion,
I realize it is an illusion.
For tin that moment he zooms up into the air,
And takes off like a flare.
First it is a race.
But then I realize that’s impossible to win
So it becomes a chase.
Marwood is looking at a mirror with blurred reflection
It is only until you notice the frame
That it comes into focus.
Marwood is telling someone the story behind a prized possession, getting honest
compassion and sympathy in return.
It is falling asleep in someone’s arms during free-time, with no complaints from
either person.
It is being able to trust your peers with your darkest secrets over a glowing
flame.
It is a place, no, a world, where you are closer to perfect than you ever were
before.
Marwood is a circle
Holding hands, everyone sits.
The central fire crackles
Like restrained hopeful hatchets.
They listen to the song
Of a long lost freedom
Sharing love and peace
Both alive and numb.
They watch the huge fire
Exploding with courage
The release deep dark secrets
A trust fall from a ridge.
You open yourself up
And pray to your gods
Search deep in your heart
Your mind tenderly prods.
You finish your story
Your soul jumps with glee
Your mind wanders mindlessly
You now can be free.
Marwood is marvelous at open campfire
Emotions are running wild
There are sad stories
There are glad stories
It’s love.
You walk up to smell smoke
It’s not a bad smell.
It’s love.
You feel independent
A wonderful feeling
It’s love.
You know you have everyone’s ears
You know you’re close to everyone
You can’t touch their love
You tell your story
Sad, glad, it doesn’t matter
It’s fabulous
It’s fearless
It’s love.
It’s mainly Marwood
-The Electric Blue Rebellion
(I bolded the part that I wrote. The Electric Blue Rebellion was the name we gave our poetry class.)