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Corey Boiko Sep 2019
I've been wondering
How to want what i need,
Pondering how to
Say what I mean,
How to not plant trees,
Instead, to sow a seed.

How I could listen
Instead of talk.
How i could show
A bean, a beanstock.
How we might one day grow
From raindrops to mighty oaks.

So why is it
That I've taken us here?

And how is it
that 'us' has little to do
with you and me?
And What marks the cycles
Of an Acorn to a tree?

So why is it
That I've taken us here?

And how is it
That 'where i've taken us'
Has little to do with 
You and i
Going somewhere,
Side by side. 

No strings attach
My moon to your tide,
And the ground is softer
On the other side,
So let the wind,
A breath, a sigh
Sweep you up,
Be brave more than shy.
The world is much brighter
If you fall far from my side.
ALesiach Jul 2019
In the shadows of the acorn tree, watching the squirrels race around gathering acorns. Their busy little hands rotating them, examining each acorn. Hoarding them, even brawling with other squirrels for access to the best trees. Daring acrobats that risk life and limb to collect them from the willowy ends of branches.

Trees full of acorns
daring acrobat squirrels
hoards little brown nuts

ALesiach © 07/28/20187
Seanathon Sep 2018
Tear the idea limb from limb, until the acorn of truth falls.
And then, rend the earth and begin again.
Until another, and another
And another thought begins.
Growing slowly with every Fall.
Acorns everywhere. So are thoughts. Growing. Let them go.
Poetic T Jan 2015
It was as it had been, but the
Ring of oak
What was locked behind
Ventured Forward caressing
Was tainted upon its departure.
Hollow structure, a leaf now skeletal
In a moment decayed from life,
Did touch upon depressed oak.
And like ash it was pollen of death, in
What once stood tall, faded into oblivions halls.
All but one did fade to the winds,
As freed upon the world old evil,
Not one noticed, never seen,
This oak of strength from which acorns
Did fall,
Sunken beneath the ground,
Nurtured by the nature, now scarred
Upon black seeds
Is the ground, but these majestic little
Things grow, sprout from the ill ground.
Where tainted now roots invigorate
New growth, the evil is herded upon
This ancient ground, where many had fell,
Now new ones take the places of old,
They are a beacon of strength as that which
Was loose now in this ring of oak.
Buried for time once more for each one
That falls, another acorn will fall to take its
Majestic place,
The old ring of oak, canopy of secrets hoping never to be told.

— The End —