Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sorelle Aug 1
I found a staircase carved into thunder
Each step a tooth pulled from sleeping beasts
The air tasted of copper
And half-remembered hymns
I climbed until my name fell off my shoulders
And rolled back into the darkness like a coin
Mirrors waited
Cracked and sighing with old weather
And when I reached for one
It bit my hand
A lantern swung from the jawbone of a tree
Older than remorse
Moths gathered like ash in my mouth
And taught me to speak
In vanished dialects
Even the silence had a pulse
I tried to pray once
But the sky folded its arms
Every word transformed into wolves
Who wouldn't approach me
The horizon was a wound stitched with lightning
Far below
Cities slept in the stomachs of drowned bells
Their windows flickering with dreams left unclaimed
I wanted to wake them
But my hands resembled rivers
And everything I touched forgot its shape
By dawn
I had grown antlers made of frost
And a mouth full of rain
The staircase ended in nothing
Except the sound of wings
Turning to glass
A climb that strips you bare, becoming something else
Is the only way down
-Sorelle
For a moment I thought
it was a butterfly,
the yellow and orange leaf
that took flight from the swishing poplar tree
across my balcony.

It swayed and fluttered in excitement –
here and there, up and down,
undecided if right or left,
to the ground or up to the sky –
Should I stay or should I go?

What to make of perceived options
when you lose your wings to know
that gravity always wins?
And ultimately to the ground
with or without wings.
Written years ago, this poem came to me after watching leaves dance in the wind — free for a moment, then returning to earth. Like all of us.
M Innes Jul 27
It didn't matter

that the bird

survived.

It didn't matter

that the council

drained the lake.

The long

summer

never actually

arrived.

The blue sky

eventually went

and lived else-

where.

I asked the dog

why you were

so sad. Was told

that you always

hated July. Something

about the coldness,

and so

always having to hold

on to the

warmest parts

of each other.
Mustafa Jul 22
I look at the tree standing tall
It's just standing there in rain and shine, and wind
It doesn't move,  it doesn't talk, not a sound
Sometimes I wonder, what is going on inside of it

The tree is there to serve us, asking for nothing
No rent is charged to the birds that make it their home
No sitting charge, no waiting charge, no matter
For how long you stay on its branch or under its shade

Apart from that, the tree is giving us flowers and fruits
It produces them for the birds and animals to consume
It consumes none of its output, only gives it away  
To come and take as much as you can FOC

I sometimes wonder, is this tree for real
How can you give, give, give and only ask
That you leave it alone to do its work
It's work of serving you wholly and totally

I salute you, O Tree, and I salute your creator
For all that you do, for all that you do
For the birds, animals, humans, and even insects
Thank you, O Tree. Thank you, O Tree
This poem is an ode to the trees on our planet. Trees give us so much, yet humans have no appreciation and mercilessly chop them down. The result?Global warming and the gradual destruction of the human race
Ruhani Jul 17
A fallen leaf
from the tree
loves him more
like before.
The tree don't forget
neither do that leaf,
both knew the fact
their life is beneath.
Seasons passed
bodies lied still
and waiting to bear
that end is coming near.
But no one really cares
they adore and miss
their love is eternal
because they never kissed.
Some love stories brew in admiring not in consuming.
Dylan A Jul 15
The sea rose,
a basswood tree
restlessly kept;

perhaps, in due time,
won’t it fall?

It’s wood,
perhaps,
it would.
Yuzuko Jul 5
Mixing pink and white
Blossoms a tree of wonder
Leaves sway in the breeze
Watch with wonder
And from that tree that is the universe
that springs the universe
there’ll spring an apple
and when it falls
it falls forever
so that it can never be rotten
never be eaten
never be tainted by a world
in which it never is to enter
ever suspended
but never submitted
it will be the most beautiful
pristine apple
that ever was created
ever was alive
with its creation
this apple
will be the bliss untasted
long live that apple
that never will live
here it will stay
untouched
forever.            

-                              

i’ll eat that apple though…

i f*cking love apples!
Heidi Franke Jun 29
I'm coming back as a tree
I could leave now
For all I care

The tree is an Ash
Sturdily bends in
In the sharpest winter

Breezes blows the boughs
The waves from the Pacific Ocean
Are jealous of her cadence

I'll take my leave now
I've seen all I need to
When you hear the wind look up

I've returned
Rooted, alive, without a care
Let the cages of birds freely fly to me.
Next page