“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Mountain Men
Listen,
It said to
Stop & Breathe
Forest
For the Trees
are lain out like a lumpy quilt
pinned to dry under fiery skies
of patchwork orange,
a citrus of sepia
trimmed in sheeny emerald
sat in
wonder when a wind yawned
wide, stretching cool brisk air
over my shoulders
gently stirring the quiet giant
in his bed of canopies
where he lies leisurely
tickling the sky
who cries in merry laughter
some times
while nobody's watching
He must have just turned over
and fallen back
in the deep
thickets, amongst
the dark womb roots
settling down
lulled by
a song
Foresting.
Image titled 'Orange Forest' [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
We Sea Trees
Caressing her steam from the trunk
Hugging her clouds from her crown
The heart blood is trapped in sap
Awash in the beams, lasers of light
through veins of amber rings
through veins of amber rings
Slice the pillared shadows
Spraying musk that bursts
bark rust forth,
settling for dew
likewise, hanging on
to every loose end.
bark rust forth,
settling for dew
likewise, hanging on
to every loose end.
She breathes you in
as you pass
A sapling too slight
to care whose airs
of mutual aqueous
evanescence is about them
re-membered reaching
and thirsting for the light
to rein down atop our crowns.
and thirsting for the light
to rein down atop our crowns.
Photo of Redwoods By NPS Photo [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Seeing the forest for the fantasy
I have watched like an arrested witness,
I have observed, from inside the bubble,
silenced from interruptions,
the echoes of my thoughts reverberating,
muffled and bouncing, hollow all around me.
A slip, a fall, down a tumultuous trail that unwinds,
sucked through a straw of destiny's tube.
If you can conceive it-
you should believe in burst bubbles,
suspended amid weightless fantasy
land, ushered by passing spires,
reality-threatening a poke
around the rocky fables.
Wishes evaporate into splashes,
hope heavy plummets,
hydrogen bound heavy,
drowning in carbonic dead wait-
Oh, if you could see the view-
if you only knew...
Up the boughed birch the searcher barks,
mocking today while dangled legs,
pins pricking shins begins,
Dreams fall as rain in bulging bursts
drop-
lets,
where mystic wishes, with thin traces leave wisps and wishes,
elements evaporating before my eyes,
rolling on and back.
Walking on wine,
Turning truths into tales,
Deep, in the fabled forests of immaculate youth.
I have observed, from inside the bubble,
silenced from interruptions,
the echoes of my thoughts reverberating,
muffled and bouncing, hollow all around me.
A slip, a fall, down a tumultuous trail that unwinds,
sucked through a straw of destiny's tube.
If you can conceive it-
you should believe in burst bubbles,
suspended amid weightless fantasy
land, ushered by passing spires,
reality-threatening a poke
around the rocky fables.
Wishes evaporate into splashes,
hope heavy plummets,
hydrogen bound heavy,
drowning in carbonic dead wait-
Oh, if you could see the view-
if you only knew...
Up the boughed birch the searcher barks,
mocking today while dangled legs,
pins pricking shins begins,
Dreams fall as rain in bulging bursts
drop-
lets,
where mystic wishes, with thin traces leave wisps and wishes,
elements evaporating before my eyes,
rolling on and back.
Walking on wine,
Turning truths into tales,
Deep, in the fabled forests of immaculate youth.
Composed 6/7/15.
Image By Ida Rentoul Outhwaite (From: 'The Enchanted Forest', 1921) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Waterfall Fairy, from 'The Enchanted Forest', 1921.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Follow the Trail
The long
and wind-
ing road where
a river runs
through this Place.
My nest-my shelter…
A bough heavy with its
Burden throwing weight
under -fractured –arms-bends
splitting branches and hairs.
Shedding, peeling, bleeding
New growth smooth raw
and glowing in vibrant appearance
of new buried in the piles, behind the
Brook, between the pulpy sheets in the
Pillared fortress of my dark wood. Followed
by History, taunted under timber, mossy muffled
movements like the pumas pads, stalking, following
His instinct upwind of fragile deer quaking in the breeze.
Led innocently but not blind by the familial scent which
Rushes past as white noise……………
The rivers running away in daily rush,
the commute of clear water swelling
and surging. Overflows with dripping
anticipation, a communion-yet lingering
all ways, touching baptismal branches,
alone with the alchemy
tossed in the leafy mix, where lights
refraction concentrates and showers,
beaming and bemoaning,
the straightforward path
Toward the new season,
rooted in reason,
salt over the shoulder,
tears condense.
No turning back!
Abandon All Pride!
Mists obscure all distinction
of form-that is confidence-
The kiss of order, standing up
to reason gushing with fortitude
in the flow of perspiring possibility.
Down long halls lined in
mirrored repetition, rhetorical echoes
only bounce; bouncing rhetoric in repetition
mirroring echoes the eagle’s fading scream,
A crier over town, sad jays bicker greedily
gathering, stealing and mocking in their way
out of the thicket of things. Wandering wearily,
coming to corners where speckled rocks
from brooks and granites gain
cowering recluse, a charging cavalier
out of the mist. The berth anew, bewildered
by this liquid leariness.
Not a place to sea the source etched
in deep groves. Matters not of maps;
forecasted, charted, re-routing, and
never doubting.
Blind faith, la selva obscura,
branches of beliefs stretching,
growing isms opening buds,
revealing tips of truth.
From: The Past
To: The Present
A sacrificial lamb
sheared of
symbolic strength
covering paths of tortuous trails
dead ends trap and pray
begging of another way
boughs for none bending astray
beckoning behind knotty burl
snarled in growing, tread softly on shed
skin exposing the elements
Aware of wind, heightened
yet heedless of escape, leave in fear
bursting bold and brazen
The eternal flame
Embers, never forgetting
pulsing vein, rhythmic, infinite
bleeding, gushing forth,
in the current forward motion
breathing the days away
In the middle of the grove
downstream and deeper
drowning in the thick
Redwood Forest
Redwood Forest
"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more." -Lord Byron
Feature image (1st) by Ilya Repin (1844-1930) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Second image, Redwood Forest "Fall Creek"
Friday, December 5, 2014
If I was there (as pictured)
You
can see
The Forest
Over there-
Hills bent like knees, folded and prickled with trees, textured tones of green shadowed by their own darkness unseen. Lush in mossy folds of exploding ripe oxygen with spores sparking their sperm of wild plumage fans its layered feathers blurred in flight, this sight you can see-
Wherein,
fawn and stag trample broken arms under hoof…a trail, a scent, a nymph of notion. (Not I)
Smoke of an obscured roof floats billowing
a periwinkle blanket of Big open skies under Venus’ belt, who tucks in the sprawling landscape-or tries. Soaring in sacred circles on the crown of canopy raptors released, flying cage free.
Blurs of sweeping leaves, fingertips brushing the panoramic pastels, strokes of infinite-wait-
What-
Was
That sound- Did you hear?
Just a raccoon, bat, owl, opossum, puma or deer…falling down-playing dead, maybe.
Things echo in cathedrals.
Sounds are carried, strung together in symbols, the pin drops but the sewers eyes are sewn shut.
Fears flourishing outlined with dread.
Can you see? Inside, where the trees hide and words disappear-I cannot see, I was not here.
Image by Anna Ramsburg, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service via Wikimedia Commons, (public domain).
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Bonsai Sequoia
'Foghorn Leghorn' approximately 10 years old, 2 feet tall
A proud hopeful twig,
A mighty little sprig,
reaches, stretches, grasping for sky-light,
drinking the coastal fog and dew from overnight.
Wise wee wooded sapling,
on your branches birds will sing,
and you will carry their tune,
on timber and echoes-yet not so soon.
Longevity like oozes sap, as the blood in ones vein;
through aortic roots, a statuesque feign-
except for the unmistakable air,
climbing higher than one could dare.
Rings notching decades like days,
breathless moments and canopy sways,
fall like whispers, awe around your burly base,
bursting to the Heavens, you continue to race.
Already you have your bark
eager and preparing to make your mark.
You have been called “Giants among Men”
forests and wilderness from way back when…
Thousands of years, all that you've seen,
optimistically each year peeling virgin green.
A giant sequoia, a prehistoric tree,
Sempre virens, stoically notching eternity.
One day little tree, you will go in the ground,
in a place I’ll make sure is safe and sound.
But for now-
I wish I could say how,
I want you to get really BIG-
and show you are no longer a twig!
I do love watching you grow, forgetting how slow;
and despite the fact that I will never really know,
get to breathe your nectar air-or live to see,
just how big you'll really be.
Photo By Ngresonance at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons
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