Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
forests of pines
were besieged by flames
in the California hills
hot devil tongues lapped
at the timbered landscape
Marte Lindholm Jul 2018
I washed up on the shore
You were already standing there
Like you were expecting me
You made me feel warm again

I could feel the sun burning my neck
As I turned around and followed you into the forest
It was like a warning
The sun trying its best to make me stay

But I couldn't resist
And you led me deeper in
It was so dark

I remember falling asleep
And when I woke up
You were already gone

I stumbled around in the dark
Time went by
I thought I saw the shore
Where it all began

I rushed my steps
My blood started pumping faster
In a hurry towards the light
A twig scratched my left arm

I didn't feel any pain
But then I saw the blood
First just a few drops
Then my arm was all covered

I kept on running
Faster and faster
The light was getting dimmer
But I could smell the ocean now

And then I was there
I was too late
The sun was setting

I could barely see it shining
Behind some tall buildings
That weren't there before

The sun disappeared
And so did I
Finding Paradise, look it up
Bardo Jul 2018
Once above my face the Sun did
  weave a joyous spell
And rested calmly upon the backs of
  the great stone Giants
Whose stance used bring early night
  to bear on these tired eyes of mine.
And the dutiful Moon too, did smile
  down
Reassuring me with her presence
Patrolling the dark heavens till the
  Dawn would order her away.
Down the wild slopes rode my
  children, brimming with life
Their blood ensuring my Youth
  forever, or so I thought.
Watching over their shadowy green
lanes, noble cedars and majestic pines
Vigilant watchtowers upholding our
  green faith:
Caressed the Bloom's feet I did and
  raced the drinker's pace
Precious memories slowly eroded as
  now in lonely exile I dwell.

First warning I got, carnage floating
  downstream
Severed trunks of trees and their
  stricken branches
Finally laid to rest upon the worm
  eaten lock gate -
Saw a mass exodus taking place,
  whole tribes on the move
Telling of trouble coming and of a
  world soon to disappear;
Pagan storms they brewed ominously
  overhead, their seed
Did burn my skin and burnt through
  the silver scales
Crippling the little fishes who'd bury themselves prematurely in that cold
  graveyard depth;
Those blissful birds too, that used eat
  out of my hand,
As my countenance grew steadily
  more gaunt and pale
They too, did decide to leave, seek
  food elsewhere.

And the ailing flower wishing the old
  days would return
As my ears they began to pick up a  new sound growing louder all the time
Gnawing away like a worm in my
  brain, the razor-toothed saw
Singing in the woods his eerie Death
  song
Leaving in his wake a grisly trail of
  ****** and mayhem.
My own days numbered then; I saw
  the savage leaders come
With their strange ideals and talk, of
  quotas profits and costs:
Who beside me built a Fortress, a
  sinister smoking structure -
O! those Dark forces it sent forth to
  finish me off
Looting and burning, laying waste my
  beautiful Kingdom
My exiled Spirit indeed, all there is now to tell of that terrible cost.
Environmental poem. The stone giants are the mountains around the lake, the children are the streams flowing into the lake, the tribes would refer to animal tribes. Although about a lake it reminds me also of a human soul.
Nayana Nair Apr 2018
The forests I have burned to land
is now a green pasture,
with flowers too beautiful to have a name.
Though the land has forgotten
the pain, now lost.
The fire still blazes in my heart
every night.
blue mercury Mar 2018
there’s a place where the trees collide as if they
are making love and the hush of the leaves overlapping
is like a whisper of,
branches and plants and limbs and bodies.
maple and palm and sandalwood
and fresh air.

the roots messily fall along edges and depths
of soil
and i just want a love like that

natural like nature
quiet yet passionate
messy and thoughtful

the kind of love that is clear like a waterfall
like laughter and fish nipping at your toes
peace, sunbaths, the chirp of the birds
at the sunset bay,
where the moon tucks in daylight/

it’s like in this place,
there’s a hyperawareness of bruises
and there’s a gentle caress of the wind.
and the way your lips part at a near death or when
a song is on the tip of your clicking tongue
is lacking
numbness.

unwavering sentience
an empath spinning in a hurricane.

the best lover to is the one
that feels like home
when you
are homeless.

and i know, for
the trees tell me so.
adira Feb 2018
Some would say the lush green forest on the mountainside is perfect
But I know almost every forest
Lush or grey
Is plagued with disease
Whether it is the tiniest of parasites
Or the most destructive of predators.
everyone has a problem a trouble not everything is all joy and no ones life is perfect
Snehith Kumbla Feb 2018
pronounced now in
their diminishing magic,

over the populous, rash,
self-destructive, tragic,

refuge for the scatter-hearted,
giant cover for the romantic,

trees for memories, smiles,
journeys, and paths nomadic
Next page