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Melody Mann Jun 5
A treacherous journey one embarks on to heal,
With unexpected turns in the path it is not linear,
Through adversities there will be triumphs,
In hardship you will prevail,
Keep going in the direction the universe has set for you,
Keep growing at the pace that is right for you,
Individualize your experience and embrace your process,
You are deserving of the kindness bolstering within.
Greta Peden May 7
I find these days my head bows down,
Lost in trees which bear no roots around.
We all continue to strive for their peaks,
That we might find the validation we believe speaks.
Because in a forest of hard line and concrete,
We think all there is, is a standard to meet.

Our bodies are young, but our souls are so old,
And craving some place wild and bold;
Where the forest which hems is ancient with moss,
And the rivers carve streets no foot can cross.
Tall mountains send out the wake up call,
That every man and woman will fall.

At the end of the day, the wild remains,
And strives to survive through mans foolish claims.
Yet I am lost to the toil and to the strife,
Of simply trying to make it with my life.
But make it where? As what? And why?
Because I try to escape the fact that all will die?

No solace can be found in the wealth of a king,
But give me a glimpse of an eagle on wing,
Amongst valleys and coasts where few eyes see,
Where the snow melts and brings new life to be.
A morning crisp with dew, and a chorus of song,
Some place wild where our old souls belong.

So short-sighted, so corrupt and insincere,
We try and conquer all that we claim to hold dear.
Even though we are but fleeting on a beautiful plain,
We are determined to burn, to clear and contain.
What if we were to become who we could be,
Honouring and reverent of all that is unbound and free?

To feel insignificantly small again,
That is the amazing gift of summit and glen.
A simple reminder that we are all but participants,
Not gods, completely unaware of our littleness.
Sitting in awe of the symphony of life abounding,
Lost in our utterly magnificent surrounding.

So I choose to take to the trails, the ridges and paths,
Which lead to the furthest and cosiest hearths;
To meet other wandering souls who have left behind,
The confusion and delusion of a self-obsessed mind.
And be prepared to lose and find myself again,
Away, into a wild embrace, her rugged domain.

My soul cries for freedom, some vision to see,
New life bursting as a bud on every tree.
Swept up in the miracle of a tale much bigger,
Than the measurable wealth of my yearly figure.
For in the wild, can be found the perspective I need,
For my searching soul to truly be freed.
ria geneva May 4
the light tore through her eyes
as she rolled in the green grass
laughing through her tears
as she watched the sun’s demise

and seeing the sky turn from arctic to indigo
she lifted herself from the earthen bed
rosy cheeks aglow

tumbling drunkenly down cobbled ground
hearing the concertina player’s refrain
the air cradling the forte of the sound
and the breeze thickened with the cool evening veil
so she walked
past the mosaic homes,
sleeping in their wake,
somewhat yearning for the mundane
and her heart begins to ache

for she slept
not in the cotton sheets of a sun-warmed bed
nor in the arms of another
because her eyes streamed storms
and she belonged to the wild

waltzing between cities that she had long forgotten
gently removing the bandages of long-healed wounds
bright unsure eyes like a child

and though her hair was held in beautiful black drapes
and her body clothed in a flowing white dress
her curiosity like a little boy’s traipse

her heart roared fires
spitting with ash and flame
her mind like a tiger
no man could tame

she was a living breathing storm
calm on its surface
fickle to transform

so as she rolled through the grass
watching the sun’s demise
golden fires blazed in her eyes.
Raven Feels Apr 26
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, some dreams can keep you thinking for a billion years:--)


the pure turquoise shivers diamonds down my spine

torture to the power I stand naked in line

endgame towards that brown

cluster mind surrounds that shrieking sound

to her to him undeniably I **** that escape for no more

a huge leftover on my soured piano box in a vein core

a question I ponder concerning my slate

am I even ready to lead the way of knows on this plate???

or even a remember of that cursed undestined for them for us to be

a far away excluded fate

                                                                                  --------ravenfeels
Descovia Apr 18
If he makes you cry more than an onion

Just think twice if he's the one

My brother you a ******* fool

I will leave your memory on a white tee

pray that a memory will restore all you

believed to gather in unison.
deadhead Apr 13
please do not try to
tame this free-spirited heart
it's meant to be wild
Raven Feels Apr 7
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, you can bleed without a shed of a drop of blood:}


in surrender to the real

a shirt is torn a cut was named a deal

for the release to greed then the skins to bleed

I draw you margins a put test to bend to kneel

to the torment in the heat you shoot to feel

in there where I see

no one has a view but me

your veins of pure temper dripping in jealousy

raise in no empathy


                                                       ­                ------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Apr 7
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, my lover is my bed;=]


chest to the bed

laying on my head

arches for the dead

they talk I know but in the air not said


                                                                                       -------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Apr 6
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, let them talk---not even hearing;->


as if they talk

like to a fault they swirl to get a may

as if they walk the walk

like its not in me for this day
                            

                                                                              ------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Apr 6
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, colors are the reason we're alive---at least for me;>


purple purple

in my mind forced hurdled

been scraped on my timeline

been worn on my curves fine

yes the archer in the water associated

stupid but for the imagination to retake it

on those eyes that looked into my defenses

affection in the caresses

of my defined tenses

rather than that of the skies illuminated on beach

or hairs on backs so hard to bleach

now I see clearly

nothing but the signs that come freely

butterflies that I hate secret narrows

walls already painted threatening arrows

already loving for them hollows




                                                     ­                                 -------ravenfeels
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