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Annie Aug 17
Daydreaming of quality time, alone.
Diving into bush pools and rivers,
sun-soaked,
wet rocks under-***,
hair slick down back,
drip on shoulders;
stronger now there’s nothing
holding me down.

Down I dive,
further- deep into peace.
I’ll eat air and drink my own laughter in gulps until I’m drunk
and fall off my rock
right back in the water-fallen ripples
again.

Let the tui talk and the fantails walk
behind me,
as I make my own naked trail
through fairy-forest vines,
over moss-mounds and thick roots.

With no cars, I can climb,
every tree is my castle,
every branch a limb
to protect me.

I’ll barefoot tumble down a Pinetree *****,
carve my poems into soft-bark trunks,
let the wind fuel my fire.
Anastasia Aug 5
Let me go

It hurts

To be in your rose bush

The thorns

Are drawing blood into my throat

And it bubbles out of my mouth

But I can't see it

Because your beautiful roses

Are blinding me
Poetress2 Apr 8
The rabbit is scared,
as it scurries in the bush,
trying to escape.
Julia Jan 8
did u hear
what the president did this year?
and do u fear
that the ending is drawing near?

twin towers
now a blanket of dust
dead flowers
on the graves of the just

how many more
will they send off to war
for the right to explore
oil on foreign shore?

i’m not down anymore

i’m making a change
taking it upon Myself to rearrange
and i know they’ll call me strange
but knowledge is the most valuable exchange

soon we will all agree
that **** cheney
should
         hang
his head in shame
they brought our soldiers home just to replace them with drones.
Logan Robertson Dec 2018
George HW Bush has left the room
For the last time we salute his duty
Save be it the last image of his bloom
The red, white and blue  his beauty

Stars and stripes live on forever
In our heartbeats his wonderful space
We honor his service and endeavour
For preserving  our country's  better place

From dedicated soldier to president
His passion for his country took flight
For he was always there ... a present
In fighting for his country to shine bright

Now his mission over leaves us blessed
The fourty first link's mettle was impressed

Logan Robertson

12/05/2018
Thankyou Mr. Bush for steming into a bloom, reaching heights in this garden we call life. In this country's bed of flowers, one stood always awake, watching over the others.
Nyx Sep 2018
The bushland calls
Of my childhood dreams
Amongst the wild
My soul it, sings

The gentle breeze
light upon the skin
Sun upon my face
it welcomes me in

To the lands of summers
Though now long gone

Memories of the heats haze
With a white juvenile horse
Within a closed off field it lay
But young and free it was born

Birds flying high above
Shielding the rays of the sky
Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue
Not a single cloud in sight

Fields filled with nothing
But the dirt beneath our feet
Dull patches of green and yellow
Amongst cattle it feeds

A rooster it crows loud
The chooks begin to run
As bruce, a little staffy
Chases them about

Work shed full of tools
Covered by a rusted tin roof
Parked beside it old barrols
And a broken down ute

Stone walls of the house
To keep it cool inside
Spread across the cold floors
A reddish brown cowhide

Worn down leather couch
Out upon the front porch
An eski filled with stubbies
Where the boys had their "talks"

I feel the memories flooding back
This peacefulness, this sense of home
Hours pass by within seconds
Losing myself in the zone

My footsteps have long faded with time
As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees
The white stallion no longer grazes near by
Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field

Worn down by time and way of the land
Though I do intend to return again
To share the beauty of this place
Drawn back by the old fate

The day melts away like the snow
And I hear my parent calling my name
This place will forever be my second home
Because I know here, I'll never be alone
Barmah
The only place I can feel truly free
Under the hot glaze of the sun
rebecca Sep 2018
It starts with a seed: small and dark
It starts to grow: a stem and a thorn
It grows some more: twisting inward on itself
Now its a bush: one that smothers
It has sharp thorns and soft, black leaves. they ***** out all of the light
It tightens around something soft. you cant feel it but you sense it
You keep watching the plant as it grows
once it was a seed, now a still growing plant
until one day...
...you cant...
...breathe...
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

You chased
I ran
You yelled
I turned
You swung
I ducked
You huffed
I pushed

The back of your ankle caught
on the underside of a gnarly root

You twirled
I watched.
You screamed
I watched..
You bled
I watched...
You gasped at air
I watched....

The old jagged branch penetrated
through your squishy eye
and kissed the back of your skull
blood burst and squirted
while the rise and fall of your chest slowed
and your body grew cold

A rose bush was born amidst the clutches of an early winter

I left
You haunted
I cried
You permeated
I stayed silent
You spoke in my dreams

I know they found you
I visit and leave you flowers
But I am through,
I finally convinced myself
that it's not my
fault.
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