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Corey Boiko Sep 29
I've been wondering
How to want what i need,
Pondering how to
Say what I mean,
How to not plant trees,
Instead, to sow a seed.

How I could listen
Instead of talk.
How i could show
A bean, a beanstock.
How we might one day grow
From raindrops to mighty oaks.

So why is it
That I've taken us here?

And how is it
that 'us' has little to do
with you and me?
And What marks the cycles
Of an Acorn to a tree?

So why is it
That I've taken us here?

And how is it
That 'where i've taken us'
Has little to do with 
You and i
Going somewhere,
Side by side. 

No strings attach
My moon to your tide,
And the ground is softer
On the other side,
So let the wind,
A breath, a sigh
Sweep you up,
Be brave more than shy.
The world is much brighter
If you fall far from my side.
Vines can reacheth up to the sky
Supp'rt'd by the sturdy pine
Given the chance to groweth and thrive
Curl and twist'd up rough skinn'd oaks
To seeth the w'rld through eyes up high
Unreachable but f'r those deep, stout roots
Anon finally able to floweth'r and fruit
Climbing up by the crackling bark
On the backs of the pines and belly of the oaks
@LadyRavenhill
2018 rewrite of 2016 poem
Starting a collection of just my Shakespearean poetry called
W'rds of a Nimble-Footed Mistress. check it out on my profile as I add more, I have so many still to post. Who knows, maybe I will finally publish something?
mikumiku Mar 2018
“Let’s burn oaks!” my mother said
Then she lit a tiny match
Still can’t fit it in my head
So much fire made from scratch
She said: “Oaks! Let’s burn them all!”
Then she drank a glass of wine
‘Twas a sunny day in fall
Fire started, I was nine
Red Panda Poetry Apr 2017
You were once vast, large and never lied
Stretching far and reaching high
Now you are a wooden twig
Pulled away and Broken by a pig
The pig who didn't care for what used to be
the magnificent tree
who sat in my yard by the garage and the pool
In which, you had rule,
over all those tiny sapling oaks
who now look up and mope
Because trees are limited and rigged with beehives,
but many see that as the loss of their wives.
This was brought up many times during Earth Day, Pencils. So we owe them and Conrad Gessner, for inventing the pencil. Some people bury their family members in their yards, under a favorite tree, so that is where the last line came from.
Lady Ravenhill Nov 2016
Vines can reach up to the sky
Supported by the sturdy pine
Given the chance to grow and thrive
Curl and twist up rough skinned oaks
To see the world through eyes up high
Unreachable but for those deep, strong roots
Now finally able to flower and fruit
Climbing up by the bark
Of the pines and the oaks
@LadyofRavenhill 11/13/16
Costructive feeback on my poems is always welcome.
rachel burch Nov 2015
We have stood ship backed
Against the wind, and the rain
Our roots delve deep in the Devon soil.
Moss, and bird song protect us
We watch, we breath as the sun turns.
Our branches hold a thousand lives
Earthbound we know our songs.
Spinning endlessly under the ancient stars
About the trees that grow around Dartmoor, Devon U.K.

— The End —