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 Jan 2017
Pagan Paul
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I go by the name of Rook.
Lord of all that you can see.
I cradle and nurture my forest home,
my throne sits in the Poetree.

The canopy stretches before me,
tree tops licked in morning dew.
A finch catches my eye and winks,
greeting his Lord, then off he flew.

The sounds of Dawn, the forest awakes,
shedding sleep dust to the rising sun.
An owl calls her goodnight hoot,
disappears, rejecting the day to come.

Otters sport, play chase, by a stream
that flashes silver as light rays dance.
A Ladybird, yellow with black spots,
lands surprised, to crawl along a branch.

Clean crisp air, caressing nostrils,
invigorating life through cool beauty.
The vista of sunrise across the woods,
the source of inspiration for the Poetree.

© Pagan Paul (24/01/17)
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Lord of Green series, poem 8
.
 Jan 2017
Joe Cottonwood
In your bleeding cross-section I count
three centuries of wooden wisdom
since that mother cone dropped
on soil no one owned.
Black bears scratched backs
against your young bark. Ohlone
passed peacefully on their path
to the waters of La Honda Creek.

In my lifetime you groaned.
Your bark filled with beetles.
Woodpeckers drilled, feasted.
Needles, whole limbs,
you shed your clothes,
stood naked. I cut your flesh.  

You walloped the earth, creating a trench
two hundred feet long where you lie.
As you fell in your fury
you destroyed my tomatoes,
smashed the daffodils,
snapped a dogwood.

Better you crush my garden than my house
which did not exist nor any of this town
when you first advanced one tender green.
I want to believe the sawtooth less cruel
than another winter of storms.

All good fathers must fall.
Your children surround you,
waving, blocking the light.
My children count rings,
hands sticky with sap.
First place, Sycamore & Ivy poetry contest 2016
 Jan 2017
Ryan Michał
Sun slowly surrendering to the night,

on a cool, calm, dusk in the fall,

leaves colored and brittle crunch under my feet,

the light paints a silhouette, of mountains and trees,

hills and brick walls,

the shadows slowly engulfing the dim light.

Life itself recedes into the gallows of the dark,

as if to stop while the shine disappears,

only to return, and bloom in the morning glow.

Soon it will be winter, colder, darker, white,

until the sun returns, the light, the shine, the glow,

reemerges from the night.
 Jan 2017
Valsa George
Winter, winter how we feel your icy touch
The earth is now under your freezing clutch
All that falls in our ears is the howl of gales from far
The night sky is covered in grayness without a single star

In the dawn, nowhere can one spot the buzzing bees
      Icicles hang from boughs of leafless trees
Birds sit with drooping wings in their woody nests
      Within eye shot, no trace of any roaming beasts

Trees stand sleeping in the biting cold
And the sun has lost its bright sheen of gold
From nowhere comes the song of a single bird
On the slopes, one cannot sight the grazing herd

Roof tops are crusted with flakes of snow
Which the sun with sharp beams alone can thaw
Piles of snow lie heaped on the barren ground
And the entire Earth lies in a sea of ice drowned

Busy streets and pavements are now lying bare
People stay indoors and to be out, they hardly dare
      The rodents have gone into hibernation in their ditch
And life altogether has gone out of pitch

In the smiting chill of a dreadful wintry night
When through every fiber n’ nerve is the cold bite
How we like to sit cocooned beside the hearth
Sipping a cup of steaming tea in rising mirth

In such quiet hours, one can peruse into the pages of tomes
That will transport one to enchanting magical zones
Or engage in a hearty chat with friends and family
Thus turning even the bleakest hours sweet and lively
This poem is written visualizing the freezing winter of the West ! Dear friends of the West, spend your winter dreaming of the coming spring ! I know I am a bit old fashioned with a penchant for rhyming verse!
i.

under a flaming bridge
blue islands,
sky-stream of
light, as the tranquil
waters unfold,
dream of
visionary seers
and haunted rooms.

gold sun running
like a tide,
pads of echoing cloud,
reflections like
mirrors on
the hollowy
water.

ii.

oil on canvas
pond of daydream,
water wrapped in love
and flower.

sunken, bird of grey
wire, fallen stone,
rippling ghost.

iii.

flower of ghost,
ink lady of sapphire
melting and sinking
like lanterns
in a chine,
where the night
wanders and the stars
lean against the sky.

iv.

watery isle,
rivery summer golds,
trembling pond,
flower of the dragonfly
flower of white sun.

v.

shadows in the leaves
monet fire of gold,
strange indigos,
violet sky,
water-dragon of the pond
water-dragon of the flowers.
 Dec 2016
Denel Kessler
transparent seeds
nest in winter hollows
the future reflected
in all-knowing eyes
an internal compass buried
in each golden heart

dappled forest light
on the natal stream
memories of salt
ingrained within
the latent lure
of open ocean

our destinies are silver
a return to clear waters
transformed revenants
glassy-eyed and gasping
on the gravel bed
that birthed us
 Dec 2016
Onoma
Do  leaves  reincarnate
from  the  same
petiole  they  fell  from*?
 Dec 2016
Denel Kessler
It is not enough to see
a soul will manifest
what has been sown
immortal purple flame
gnarled roots in stone
the truth of nature
an external blooming
expression of the world

a flourishing vision
voraciously spreads
animating the meadow
with honey-scented breeze
steep slopes sweetened
magnificent blossoms
open lavender wings
to conquer the sky

here the air is thin
windblown seeds
so carelessly thrown
to harsh alpine soil
become willful weeds
persistently untamed
internally unchained
forever wild flowers
Lupine are symbolically associated with imagination, inner guidance, self-reflection, and the development of wisdom that sees beyond polarizing dualities.
 Nov 2016
Ramin Ara
It is not rain alone
That allows the growth
Of  flowers
There is also need
For a fine breeze
And sunshine
 Nov 2016
Sarah Michelle
A flower bending
in the wind doesn't actually
yield, though it seems so
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