clear winding streams
divide wandering dreams
cool forests filled with evergreens
down twisted trail at deadfalls cross
I took rest upon soft bed of moss
in chorus with ever dimming skies
hear lone coyote's distant cries
fading echoes on the wind
his search and mine
will never end

gmw '17

Where my mind wanders during sleep is beyond me.
Paul Butters Jul 4

Come with me,
Along this path:
Through the forest,
Towering over us on either side.
Smell the greenery
All around.
Orchestral accompaniment
From countless birds.

Hope you feel engaged
As we stroll along.
And now the pathway branches out!
Six new paths,
Six choices.
Let’s take one.
Off we go.

We risk being lost.
What wonders
Or horrors (!)
Will we find?

The woods suck us in,
Further and further forward.
Punctuated by pesky gnats.
Expect itchy red spots
When you get home.

Onward and onward.
Bees and butterflies.
Sun streaming through the branches up above,
Trees topped by fleecy white clouds.

At last – a clearing!
Can I hear the sea or just a lake?
Or is there a stream nearby?
I see a golden parting of the ways,
A little land beyond forever.
But what do You see???

Paul Butters

Hope you all enjoy this.

If you want to find me,
You know I am easily found.
Watching sunsets,
Sitting at the hideaway,
With the ocean breeze.
Under turquoise skies,
Exploring Lanikai,
Kaena on North Side.
Out here by the sea,
And in forests,
Running along wild things,
Along mountain edges,
Roaming free.


Forests were torn down and
cities built because of surety.

How can your child's face
assure me of my future?

Snehith Kumbla May 2016

the cuckoo still sings
over the traffic smoke,
children still carve
forts by the sea,

gulmohars still bloom
over the widening road,

you could still stir early,
jog through frozen silences,
travel for an hour, still
bathe under a waterfall,

walk up a ruined hill fort,
watch the falling of meteors,

you could still save yourself,  
here in this decay and filth,
you could dig up a little earth,
and ply a little spade on it,

feed it like a little child,  
and make a tree out of it...

Gulmohar - A tree that blooms orange flowers in summer.
Robert C Howard May 2014

The Rockies sing to us at sunrise

      when crystal snow-capped peaks
chant iridescent matins to the dawn,
      the dawn of a fresh new mountain day.

Luminous pastel clouds
     hover across the horizon
painting the hills and valleys below
     in mysterial shades of
lavendar, amber and rose.

The Rockies sing to us at daybreak
      when every crest and vale
unites in raising anthems to the dawn,
      The dawn of a bright new mountain morn.

Forests and fields awaken.
      A bull elk grazes by an alpine lake.
An eagle soars through the morning mist
      over rainbows of Indian paintbrush.
A hilltop lake spills over its rim
      and cascades down the slope
etching serpentine streams in the valley below.

We can hear the mountains singing.
      In every creature, ridge and flower
They bring to us their jublilant songs
      of wilderness, wildlife and wonder

We can hear the Rockies singing.

      The mountains sing forever!

June, 2009

Included in Unity Tree - Collected poems
pub. CreateSpace -
Sarah Tayler Sep 2015

Pine tree forests stretch
In the middle of nowhere
And I'm without you

I'm in the middle of nowhere.......oh look a Mcdonalds!
Cori MacNaughton Sep 2015

In the wee hours
as the crickets chirp
and frogs and owls converse
a forest symphony
outside my window

I am reminded why I came here
not so long ago
for the glory of the Milky Way
the Moon and all the stars

as far away from light pollution
as we could have come
for the river
for the woods
for the quiet

And on those days when I would trade
our winters for a song
I think of all the years it took
to bring me to this place

I walk the woods in gratitude
for all our many gifts
and think
the owls feel the same

I wrote this as I went to bed last night, around 3 AM, and at least three large owls were calling to one another.  One was very close, another a bit farther away, and a third I could barely hear; if there were others, they were beyond my range of hearing.  The frogs, crickets and other sounds of the woods gave the background for the sound tapestry.  

Interestingly, as I finished the poem, the owls apparently moved on, as if they had done their job.  ;-)  We have a number of different species in our woods, and I'm not certain which these were, but they were clearly larger owls.

Written 28 Sept 2015, All rights reserved.
Raghu Menon Aug 2015

I like the dark
The dark skies
The dark ocean
The dark forests
The dark soils
The dark nights
If there were no dark
We will never understand
The meaning and value
of Light..

Caitlin H Jul 2015

drowning in a sea of stars and lavender

you fill my head with dreams of forests and our feet on ice

    you text me at 2 am and I pray I am the first thing on your mind

but I'm trying not to let my red string get knotted up in your fingers

   that you play so carefully with

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