stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 14130
    [post_author] => 4
    [post_date] => 2013-10-25 14:40:06
    [post_date_gmt] => 2013-10-25 14:40:06
    [post_content] => When I was a child,
I believed in magic.

I used to walk in the woods
skipping ahead, searching
for goblins and fairies
hidden in the shade of the trees.

The air used to glimmer
as if invisible boundaries
were becoming thin.

I glimpsed an elf’s scaly hand
creeping around
an oak’s thick trunk.

Small lights flickered on bushes
chattering things
with small, fragile wings.

Now I have grown, and
I believe in stories.

I sit with adults at the table
and smile with my lips
but inside I am thinking
of a wild wooden ship.

I tell tales in my mind
of men in shackles
who searched for freedom.

I read faces, now,
instead of walking on the fens.

Now I am older,
I give words
to the stories in people’s heads.
    [post_title] => The Storyteller
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => the-storyteller
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2015-11-26 13:59:25
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2015-11-26 13:59:25
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=14130
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2013
            [wpcf-summary-description] => Charlotte said: I really like the clarity of the language in this poem. The idea of believing in stories like we believe in magic is gorgeous, and I like the language used to describe the supernatural in the first few stanzas. I like the sparing use of rhyme, it’s all the more effective for not using it all the time – and although this closer to page poetry than some of the other poems in the challenge, the sound patterning means it would still work well when read aloud. I particularly love the last two stanzas – ‘Now I am older, / I give words / to the stories in people’s heads’ is an incredibly beautiful line.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Winner, Performance poem challenge 2013
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 13646
            [forename] => Imogen
            [surname] => Wade
            [title] => Imogen Wade
            [slug] => imogen-wade
            [content] => Imogen Wade is a winner of the Young Poets Network 'Performance poem' challenge.
        )

)
stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 13646
    [forename] => Imogen
    [surname] => Wade
    [title] => Imogen Wade
    [slug] => imogen-wade
    [content] => Imogen Wade is a winner of the Young Poets Network 'Performance poem' challenge.
)

The Storyteller

Imogen Wade

When I was a child,
I believed in magic.

I used to walk in the woods
skipping ahead, searching
for goblins and fairies
hidden in the shade of the trees.

The air used to glimmer
as if invisible boundaries
were becoming thin.

I glimpsed an elf’s scaly hand
creeping around
an oak’s thick trunk.

Small lights flickered on bushes
chattering things
with small, fragile wings.

Now I have grown, and
I believe in stories.

I sit with adults at the table
and smile with my lips
but inside I am thinking
of a wild wooden ship.

I tell tales in my mind
of men in shackles
who searched for freedom.

I read faces, now,
instead of walking on the fens.

Now I am older,
I give words
to the stories in people’s heads.