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LRF 1d
At the moment when
the last rays
acquiesce
to the faint glimmer of stars
and the time we have had
looks to be setting
on a far away horizon,
a finger of light
slips through long shadows
cast by tree trunks
and sparkles in the mica particles
of blazing red dust;
a trail to follow
a possible promise of a reclaimed day
that creeps into the undergrowth
and vanishes
with the pink sky.
May 2020

For a man who holds more promise than a red dust path.
JW Mar 17
body hurting
mind wandering
you lie wide awake
cuddled in comforting darkness

you wonder
why and how
while the glistening sun
burns deep wholes into your dark soul

thoughts drizzle
merging into a wild stream
that leads you
into the darkest forrest

beautiful old trees
block your vision
that is clouded to begin with
by a million dry tears

in the far distance
you spy with your redened eye
what might be a blooming glade

                                                 R U N  
                                                 F A S T E R
Wouter Dec 2019
The forest must have been colorful,

peeling off greenish yellow towards rusty brown

The ground is soggy, paths unclear

branches and wind-blown vegetation.

There must have been walkers huddled

or full with their face in the watery sun,

who was perhaps there. They must have looked disapproving

or agreeing. There were also solid beech nuts,

chestnuts or a single *****; fall in November

as you know it, from before and pictures. I don't remember.

You were there.
Written in fall after visiting a forrest with her
Keiri Jul 2019
Captured in an empty forrest.
My mind has left me today.
Ran away on it's own, alone.
He has fled me, when the sky got grey.

My body, alone soulles.
Never to be found, here in the ground.
But he's off to a better place, my mind.
And I have gotten used to it, the sound.

It's the noise of madness that keeps pesting me.
Silence is lonely, but can ease me at times.
My mind now in a lush pink cloud.
While my body is stuck with self influenced mimes.

But when he got back, my mind.
He was in for quite a shock.
He would never have expected.
Chaos, disaster, as timed by a ticking clock.

Being back to reality as if awaking from a dream.
But the dream not ending but becoming a nightmare.
And your life is filled with monsters.
The judgement, the dissapointment, the deadstare.

As if everybody can live your life better than you.
Yet they still prefere to live their own lives.
And my mind being numb, not knowing were to start.
While others are still on a pink cloud, thinking of their strives.

If there was a better way to live my life.
Don't you think, I'd live it that way?
I'm not as masochistic as I seem, you know.
I do not prefere things this grey.

I know what I'm doing, and know much is wrong.
But many of the thing I do, the things I've done.
Where only when I got pushed against a wall.
Or do you think I did it all for fun?

Captured in an empty forrest.
My mind will leave me tomorrow
Run away on it's own, alone.
Leave me again with my own sorrow.
It's the middle of the night, I won't be surprised by type-o's... feel free to appoint them, but don't shame me for it pls.
Jon Thenes Jun 2019
Starved
sleep depraved
and braving visions

This is how I take my walk

One song
tucking over and over
in my headspace

This is how I take my walk

Map-less

My dry head tugging
from behind my eyes

This is how I take my walk

My bag
packed with care
(by list and by experience)
I abandoned it by the front door

This is how I take my walk

There’s this note I’ve left for you
much is explained
lots is left held
(that content
I carry with me)

Leaving a trail of my clothing
I am body naked to the weather

I carry no knife
but am married to my teeth and my fixtures

I’ve outstrided my pollution

Upon reaching an unfamiliar forest
I unlace my shoes
And place them on a rock
I draw a breath
Place my fear

I trend tender into the trees
Will May 2019
Dirt, grass, leaves, rocks, trees.
Looking down at my grubby hands, scuffed up from foraging for a soul.
Light gleams through the branches above, yet my eyes cannot unsee the darkness around me.
Stumbling forward, tripping on the forest ground, searching for meaning in a meaningless land.
My eyes blink, salt and liquid try to blend, but nothing leaves the eyelids as they contort and bend.
After a lifetime of crying alone, my river of tears seems dried to the bone.
Heat subsides while the sun sets, coolness of night begins it's rise from the depths.
Feeling weird
Girard Tournesol Nov 2018
. . . there's a path that could not have been
can't be but shall be seen by wise eyes 
all seeing all knowing belonging to you 
yet not you in some form sideways 360
nonexistence up safe in a tree perched 
on the brink a vast ethereal forest 
nocturnal wide-eyed visionary
A tribute to  poet Byron Hoot.
Shadow Dragon Nov 2018
Your fingertips planted trees on me.
You left a forrest
full of life.
But with no rain
there was no healthy leafs.
So the forrest crumbled.
And I cut the tress down
for I did not wish
to have a memory of you
on my body.
Yet, roots of the forrest
remained deep beneath my skin.
And I will now forever,
if I wish or not,
have memories of your fingerprints.
Jolan Lade Apr 2018
I have to be careful, not to lose my mind.
I wonder in a world of thoughts, drawn to what i can find...
That i think of, is love, hate... might be fate
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