Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Audience-less, a man
Performing songs of childhood and fire.

Stranger to strangeness
Spinning In this incendiary moment.

He sings a song which lives,
Which intensely lives.

An audience of reflections
Battering tall walls in applause.

Defiant clatter of man,
Adorning, like ribbons, the hall.

Dancing heels are screaming
Like these birds in branches

But the starlings fly their nests 
And make lives in their leaves.

They build slow decaying homes
In gutters and trees.

Sacred and hopeless, 
Promising only to rot.

The essential dwindle here
Refining those presents foregone.

The sad beauty
Of sweet recollection.

While nothing spoils inside the hospital,
Day upon day.

Earnest and aflame
He peeks through a psychical crack

Like a brave voice through an open window
Spilling onto Artillery Road.
John David Washington Ave.

It tastes like violet.
Renaissance and headed towards.
The Maxine.
Mountain only spitting globes.
Of parted jacket.
Leaving electric glass behind.
Though it's eyes.
No weaving of inner fuchsia.
Collected, only slept in yesterday's clothes.

Garrett Johnson.
Redone up for the sleep hours.
What kind of animal
Ringing his death knell
Cuts 10 billion trees a year
Plants only the half
What kind of animal
Ringing his death knell
Sometimes, I wonder
What's kind about him
His fraternity mankind
Manbrute the dialectics
He uproots his greatest friends
Makes way for his enemies
What kind of animal
Ringing his death knell
Know thy friends' great qualities
O brute of mankind
One tree provides oxygen
For four of thy clan
For their survival on this planet
Breathes in carbon dioxide
Defending ozone layer's defence
Dust hesitates to rise
In air to suspend
Less by seventy percent
Near a row of trees
Noise reduces by fifty percent
Peace and peaceful is clime
A tree cools as if an  air conditioner in a big house
Stop ring thy death knell
O brute of mankind
Plant trees everywhere
Nourish as if thy child
Protect thy environment
If thou wish to survive
And lead a quality life
Aly OMalley Jun 1
Seas of anchors beneath the earth
Take hold the dew of morning
For truth givers and life bearers
Hands stretched to the sky, demanding
Freedom and peace and strength and serenity
An understanding of things unknown
Power purely born into existence
From a single, simple seed
Ziploc May 28
Soft, a damp; an umber forest. a mossy way.
rain; wet trickled dirt. distant ravens.
boots; crispy ferns. snapping twigs.
just breathe; a deep gray whisper, the irresistible scent of fern.
falling back into the dark musty bristle of a bear, quickly being submerged by deep grey, smokey clouds.
Look up, in the feathery pines - a flying squirrel! his eyes, lips, and spirit all at once smile saying,

"hi. little duck,"
Just a little thing I wrote a while back... makes me feel good
Donna May 25
Looking out window
I see birds fly trees blossom
and the day begin

Inspired this morning **
It’s been awhile since I was inspired , life is very full on and busy I’m loving it **
I don’t know
the ifs and thens
the chance
the firsts and lasts
i’m slow

i see lacks
and scraps
the straw
the traps

and the grass
and the trees
The exploration of the woods decreases as the artists perfect their virtual ones
From the couch, consume a million adventures without ever stepping a stone
Evil defeated
Dopamine Depleted
Enjoy the glory all alone

The birds and bees cease to be
No eyes outside
No care if nest or hive empty
Just plastic archeology
Bare bones and silcone
Til the last leaf falls from the tree
Svetoslav May 4
Absorbing Sun's caring embrace
and the water's life,
the trees mix them into oxygen for the man,
for he has planted the seeds
which marked their beginning — organisms vital for wildlife and shelter.

The man now receives their appreciation
with the maturing of the fruit.
To eat it is honoring its purpose and time,
for it grew only for you, as a gift.
Earth's hospitality was never meant for granted,
but be returned to the cycle.

It spins like our planet in space,
around a warm core and a cold shell.
Stars there align to the call of energy
designed to dance in gray,
and to portray protons and electrons
in a chemical reaction,
beginning of the first light — pressed lighter igniting candles.
Catching a glimpse
of tiny sparks,
Around the corner
away in the dark.

I run after them
in wild desire,
Were they embers
from a bonfire?

Or shooting stars
fallen from the sky,
Or specks of gold
that can fly?

I run again
in the dying dusk,
After the glitters
on beds of musk.

The lights become brighter
in the fading twilight,
Twinkling alone
in the warm night.

I run faster
beneath the trees,
But they vanish
into the fragrant breeze.
Based on a true experience. ✨
Next page