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that I had
to wash both my elbows
best peaches I've ever tasted, so I'm always shakin' that tree
The trees have shed everything in defiance of frozen air,
Nudely and bravely they boast of their strength with a stoic’s stare.
Their leaves have deserted them, their fruit has fallen, they don’t care.
The trees in January stand strong in loneliness, and bare.

Is their ***** strength in the wind how they are supposed to be?
Do they welcome autumn, to rid themselves of their greenery?
Perhaps they don’t notice that the lives they gave have set them free?
They have lost something beautiful, but are they less of a tree?

Spring water flows into their roots, branches drop their icy weight,
The first sun-kissed buds emerge to witness the tree foliate.
But does the tree even notice this, its cause to celebrate?
The tree is at its life-giving most, but it does naught but wait.

The tree changes before me, and because of it I change, too.
But in that moment, when I love that tree, it feels nothing new.
And I think back, if the moment someone loved me, if I knew?
But I am too like the tree, oblivious to what is true.
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Star BG 1d
Knock, knock at tree I stood there.
Wondered if someone would hear.
I did whisper can I see?
All the beauty housed in thee.
If I’m let in this is clear.
It will make me surely stare.

For the magic goes down deep.
Hope tree fairy I will meet.
Fairy answered one two three.
It did welcome me with glee.
So I drifted in tree fine.
Mother Nature is Divine.
When I left I bowed with awe.
Then fairy did close the door.

Perhaps I’ll visit soon I hope.
Natures grand and thats no joke.
Inspired by Logan Robertson. Thank you Without your gifts there would not be mine.
A seed, set into soil, seeded to be
a great oak tree.
sprouts in deepest of hells floors
towers unto heaven’s door.
Many try the climb and fail
Not many live to tell the tale
Many try the climb and find
At the top they are forgiven sin.
Many will gaze upon the tree
maybe you.
Maybe me.
Golden fruit and angels high
branches of life unto the sky.
Pleasure below, swapped for the soul
Ecstasy traded for a heavy toll

Angels look down from tree branch high
Demons beckon below
One way yes, one way no

I am climbing from bottom to top
Although at times I am stopped
even when I begin to fall
I catch myself and begin again

That climb from Worlds end
Anna 3d
I see him every single day. The longing inside of me aches for his acknowledgement. His knowing of my existence.But truly I should hate him. He is a monster after all.  I hide in the shadows of halls and argue with myself. There are people at my school who cannot let others joy pass through their sights. It’s as if their desire is to make everyone else weak so therefore they can maintain their power. But what is power that is taken from negativity? I will never know so therefore I will never speak up. I can’t speak up. No one will ever hear me or see me. No one even notices me unless I fall and cry or break when the teacher calls on me. I’m their daily amusement. My hands are always clenched in agony and my heart is always being ripped into shreds from vain conquests. Despite the tear in my throat my heart beats for the ailing souls of the forgotten. It knows what the others don’t see and hear. Despite my agonizing breathes of air I’m still alive today. How I can still walk with my breaking bones and how I can still see through the foggy lenses society has bestowed upon me is truly beyond me.

I cannot allow myself to speak. Speaking takes energy. I don’t have enough energy to simply express my being and then have my voice heard. My voice is quiet and raspy with edges of cut mirrors and thorny rose bushes. I used to be a lemon tree sweet and sour but golden and sunny as most people expected from me and came to realize and to be simply put that was their recognition. But then the hazy storms of dread pricked my fragile fingers and brought forth blood of ruins. I was ruined. But at first they didn’t care. They wanted to see me for the way they knew me and not the way I had became. How was it fair that she got the recognition from her ex and not I? Not everyone knows of my full story simply because of the sacred secrecy I have been cursed with. He has banished all thoughts of fantasy and left me as a beggar for mercy.
she grabbed a soft stone

and eyed  the skipping it does.

she inhaled the misty, fall air

and twirled her auburn hair.

she glared up to the canary leaves

dangling thinly on their limbs.

her flats tapping to the music making

of the trees strumming and shaking.

she beckons down

at the candy corn fronds

wading in the morning stream

like an autumn's dream.
Not often do I boast about my own writing... but this one is good. Perceive the darkness...

I long to hold a can of worms.
Corruption in my hands.
A seething rain of gnashing teeth
to filter through the lands.

Or moths to claim the skies and clouds,
in darkness they shall reign.
And silence shall endear the earth,
the fields and barren plains.

I long to view a memory
of blood, and heightened screams.
A wail of such regretfulness,
it lingers in your dreams.

As the days grew cold and quickly
life begins to freeze.
I long to be the life-force that
resembles your disease.

I long to be a single tree,
the last among the ruin.
Or maybe just a frozen rose,
the last on earth to bloom.
Egeria Litha Jan 12
There is a wisdom in my innermost layer
laying there
Other layers lie, rest assured there is nothing substantial to see
Not a hint of revelation or emotional release
She wasted time under a Bodhi tree
Thoughts insisting she kept on persisting
I will breathe and close my eyes

There is a fire in my heart burning blood
Pumping all through me
My rib cages rage at the overgrown branches
Wishing they had more space to grow
Other people deny my conditions
They stir up wind inside of me with their cigarettes and blades
Instantly, my flames retaliate,
“This wild fire can’t be tamed
As a super star rises to fame
I will destroy the hate you made!”
Fire purifies pain

There is a way no one has been and no will go
It’s my unique path
It’s my highway home
trail blazin’ on the back roads
It’s a bumpy ol’ dirt road
Now, I’m using my hands and knees climbing up a rope

There is a dream in me only I can breathe
There is a place for me in this world only
I can keep
Amy H Jan 12
(a metaphor...)

Turning times on who I had to be
singed and fragile
rigid as a leaf
wont to tumble
in the wind;
make a fist
see her crumble,
death of Spring
scattered on the ground.

Winter comes
to soothe the scorching,
freezing scars
til finally
the hottest Summer ever
is remembered not felt.
But a tree like me
abides the changing season
emerges thriving.
Seasons of change
Crystal Freda Jan 12
I'm a fallen tree
whose limbs have broken off
and everyone has left me.

My branches couldn't support me
and life's storms beaten me down
with powerful streams from the sea.

Damaged bark and broken apart.
The wood is no longer good
for how rotten is my heart.

I'm fallen tree
left to the ground
in fear and in agony.

Nature has taken its toll on me,
and here I am and here I stay
as the rotten, fallen tree.
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