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Nigel Finn Jan 2016
Did you know that dogs
In their natural state
Never bark?
That we gave their sprogs
Such an acquired trait
For a lark?

They would whine and growl
If they were left alone
To be free,
A dog will even howl
But won't bark on its own
Naturally.
Apparently dogs don't usually bark. One of the little-known and wonderful facts I acquired whilst skimming through Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase & Fable. I'm starting to wonder if everything I learned in nursery school was a lie now...
AJ Nov 2015
Along the cracks lining
The spaces in between
The bark of this tree
Sits two carved halves
That break along their seams
And curl into the shape of a
Heart.

I wonder when
The knife was plunged
Into the tree-trunk’s chest,
When the blade carved
Out words unspoken but
Seen in an image from
God.
Has time aged it so
Quickly, or has death
Taken over the supple, clenched
Hands of the
Lovers
It stitched together?

Have these moments been
Forgotten
Along the years that
Wear into the gray bark
Like ebbing tides
Along sand-dotted shores?
Have these remembrances been
Lost
With the swaying serenades
Of the plump green leaves
That hang like a canopy over
The shadows cast across
The dust-kicked soil?

Where has the time gone?
I can almost hear
The black heart wail,
Where, oh where,
Has the time gone?
Has it been washed
Away
Like the rain glistening
In the the sky that
Has cradled the branches
As if they were sleeping
Children?
Has it wept like the
Glossy roots
That have upheld the trunk as
The days have worn away
The etched heart entrenched
Deep within its core?

Where, oh where,
I can hear the leaves whisper,
Where have the moments gone?
This poem is based on a photo of a tree with a heart and initials etched onto its bark. This is my take on it.
John West Oct 2015
Dog
Woof, bark
His name is Clark
He has dark hair
And runs like a bear
Cat Fiske May 2015
and her scars healed,
and her wrists mimicked,
*the treebark,
a old poem I just typed up now
Cat Fiske Apr 2015
And though,
Her scars healed,
they left rough,
tough,
scar tissue,
wear she was once weak,

And he ran his hands over them,
Kissed them,
And told me I reminded him of the trees,
The kind of tree's to beautiful to cut down,
or carve your name into.

And he told me how,
the Trees kept him rooted down,
and helped the wind wispier,
Mother natures secrets in his ear,

Telling him,
To tell me,
He was standing there
with the most beautiful Tree out there,
Among the all the Trees in the forest,
and he was too lucky,
to have me.

Thats when my tree bark arms,
went around his rope burnt neck,
and for the first time,
we both felt,
like our jungle of emotions,
was as calm as the forest the surrounded us,

I had the wrist like tree bark,
and he and the trees,
had tried to carry him,
with a badly tied rope.

My tree bark didn't let him hang.
the trees knew better,
he needed to stay rooted.
This is just supposed to be a cute little story about two people who are helping each other recover though there attempt in self injury and suicide. I used nature as the medium for this story.
mads Mar 2015
the bark where we carved our lilac promises fade,
the touch of your black night hair that day stings my mind.
fleece blanket,
count the stars.
stars in heaven,
stars on your tongue.
the bark where we carved out lilac promises may fade,
but your starry tongue and midnight hair.
with me,
it will remain.
CW warmup: wrote a poem using the words bark, hair, fleece, and sting :3 you guys try it and tag me in your poems :)
Marie-Chantal Feb 2015
That beautiful sir keeps watchful eye over the land. He carries an armful of lilacs, he says nothing but walks, his black plumage glinting in the near-spring light. He swings something along his side. Too afraid to ask. Why does he hide it? That's because the trees have eyes.

Roasting, dripping pig flesh and sweet dough, cooking ever so slow. A warning whisper is sent through the woods. How do trees know? They have eyes.

One lilac drops on the floor above the decaying bird carcasses. There are bird carcasses. Is this one of the beautiful sir's kind? That cannot be. But it is because the trees have eyes. They don't say much, trees, but they send a whisper up the woods and warn the fleshed pork eaters of coming lights. Snap! Fire out. Don't make a sound. Can they hear?

And suddenly the trees whisper as loudly as trees can:

"RUN"
                                    
For the beautiful sir is hardly man. There swinging at his side is nothing but a human head hanging on some golden thread. There is a stench of death that could never be described as anything other than fear. The beautiful sir with his black plumage is death.

His head jerks and he looks the fleshéd in the eye
they know they are the next to die.

But, how did the trees know?

*"That's because the trees have eyes."
Have you ever noticed that trees have eyes?
Ronjoy Brahma Feb 2015
सोरबा लामाजोँ फैदोँ
गिथाव- बाथाव मुस्रिया
फौ फौ सैमाया सोँदोँ
सान्दोँ आं, बियो जानो हागौ सिखाव।
A hair fell from my eyebrow
and landed in my eye,
it caused my eye to water
just like when you cry.

I cleaned it with my finger
which made this small hair slip
it landed underneath my nose,
just above my lip.

I hadn't noticed where it went
it lay there on my face,
and over time it rooted
and then multiplied this place.

I started scratching at the spot,
I thought I had a rash
but when I looked more closely
I found I had a moustache.

It was as I point out to you
protruding out of the skin
and spread out over many days
and now its on my chin.

I know I didn't have a rash
and it was as I feared
I never only had moustache,
now I had a beard.

This spreading still continues
and I don't think that it's fair
for from my head to toenail
I am now covered in hair.

I've tried so hard to cut it off
and every time I fail
but what is really worrying
is now I have a tail.

So if you see a hair that's loose
and resting on your face
I do suggest you take it off
before it grows some place.

Cause when this hair gets rooted
you see how it can take over
and it is so embarrassing
when people call you Rover.

I don't know what is happening
but when I'm in the park,
I run around, I lick my nuts,
I growl and I bark.
14th December 2014
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