Lets take a walk through the forest
the birds, the frogs, the flowers
the forest is my home
i could stay here for hours
the squirrels, the brook, the bees
every element forever moving, growing
i climb a rock and fall
now ive scraped my knees
i used to live in town
but the people didnt like me
they called me names and laughed
i was the village clown
but its all fine and dandy
i didnt like it there either
the animals are my friends now,
and the trees are my family
on the prayer of a rose
soars the alchemist's whine
It starts with his beautiful bright blue eye,
So steady and sure as the wings flutter and sigh.
They keep watch of the life below,
The nectar and the flowers that grow
A forest of colours, red to indigo.
Now, when the eyes shutter and blink,
The flowers look up and they think,
'Here is our dazzling friend,
Come here to dance and defend,
And to our gardens tend'.
Here, it whispers to a mother and child
Remembering all the times that they smiled
To each other and held hands
To help the child thrive and withstand
The winter's harshest command.
The mother waves and the child shakes
In excitement and down fall the flakes
Of yellow but quickly goes the protector
Gathering the pieces and the nectar
And hurrying back to inspect her.
Often people suspect that this pest
Eats the flowers and destroys their nest
But little do they know of why
The mother flower strokes the pest's eye.
You see butterflies don't just flutter by.
They have a duty and a burden
To protect the flowers of their garden
And see that everything is safe and sound
Down there on the ground.
A poem for my mum...
There was a witch
In the meadow near the forest
Living in a tiny house
With walls of woods
And roof of grass
There was a witch
Dressed in black
Sage and Thyme,
Rosemary, and Mint and Chives
There was a witch
Dancing in the night
When the moon was high
And the stars all out
Singing a song that no one knew
And I couldn’t help to wish to be that witch
For she lived happy and simple
as autumn plants her feet,
cities burst into smoke, shades
and silence, until I can only sit
& grieve as a ruby-dream fades
into the mist; tell me this is earth
breaking feasts to mark the birth
of our bond, tell me this remains
the season where hearts rain
like leaves as they, as we, fall
in love beneath golden trees
& we'll only need to loosen our all
to cling tighter than we please;
tell me that when the perils flee,
you'll return, arms open-- tell me.
Love's vine stems from the heart;
it is ivy creeping through iron gates.
Wanders free through stony soil,
rushing stream, and bank.
It can loiter in the garden,
and fall victim to the spring rain.
But do not despair, my dear,
for its passion is like a flame:
Forever burning in its tendrils,
its coiled roots and leaves;
survives environs menace,
summer's blaze, and winter's freeze.
On every gleaming windowsill, in each sunny spot
Lives a wide array of house plants, each in a neatly labelled ***
Some need extra sunshine, others demand constant night
Occasionally they move around, bending to the light
I take care of them, satisfying all their basic needs
even go the extra mile, pruning dead extremities
Because I take such good care, they are all in perfect health
But if only I could find the time, to look after myself.
God is a name for the smell of squash plants under the noonday sun.
When the clouds are moving across the sky and you're drifting away in a fold out chair.
God is the word for when it all feels just right. Like you'll never be safer or more content than in this moment. You wish you could stretch it out forever.
God is the accumulation of all these flashes of goodness---an unexpected surprise, the smell of her cooking, his distinct laughter, a shooting star that brightens the sky and disappears, your smile--- our minds unable to comprehend an end to it all.
It must go on forever somehow.
And perhaps it does, just not in the way we expect.
they can be!
Love may be the toughest withdrawal
It fertilizes a garden and blooms the wildest—beautiful flowers.
It’s flourishes with enough love given to it,
as it decays in a catastrophic drought.
Nature needs care and its necessities to grow.
We grew a garden raising it up from the seed.
Withdrawals hit when the desire to revive the flowers and the browning of plant is no longer achievable.
The wanting to of seeing the flowers bloom again. The wanting of how the garden once looked.
The images of what the garden would have looked like. That is the toughest.
All i had to do was reach deep into what I have felt when a certain type of love leaves.