Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
In the depths of verdant woods, whispers dwell,
Ancient trees stand tall, with stories to tell.
A tapestry woven with secrets untold,
The forest, a sanctuary for spirits of old.

Through dappled sunlight, gentle breezes stir,
As melodies of nature softly purr.
Moss-clad stones, witnesses of ages gone by,
Guarding the wisdom that time can't deny.

In the heart of the forest, silence is alive,
A hallowed hush, where wild creatures thrive.
The subtle rustle of leaves, a sacred hymn,
Echoing the harmony of nature's eternal whim.

Amidst towering pines and canopies above,
A place where the spirit finds solace and love.
The sunbeams, like leaves, gently cascade,
Inviting us to wander through nature, unafraid.

In the footsteps of our ancestors, we tread with care,
Respecting the balance, the fragile and rare.
For the forest is more than a mere collection of trees,
It's a sanctuary, a refuge, where the soul finds ease.

So let us venture forth, guided by poetic light,
Into the embrace of the forest, an ancient rite.
May we find inspiration in nature's embrace,
And honor its beauty, while we leave no trace.
Zywa Jun 2022
A feather over

circles in the town canal --

Domestic wildlife.
Collection "The drama"
Trojan Aug 2021
They say the city has no landscape
No life
Nothing but concrete
Nothing but steel

They say that
Without ever looking
At the city
In the night

Feral cats
Squirming bugs
And although the trees are small
They loom over small unlit paths

Lonely dogs
Flying moths
And although the buildings are imposing
They too are part of it all

They're our homes
And the homes of rodents
And even more squirming bugs

The city's not dead
But we are
July, 2021
Mr E Writer Mar 2021
pied wagtails seek food
rare quiet times suit them best
pigeons rule the roost
These little birds go about their day happily seeking out morsels of nourishment but sadly the trait of shyness goes against them with the adversely more adaptable pigeons around town.
Eager to grab a meal
It rushes for its ****
Fast as lightening strikes the ground
It grabs onto its neck
With all strength endowed
It tears it's flesh
And as the prey lies helpless
It starts to feed
With the African Cheetah, hesitation means a lost meal ushering in hunger which dooms survival in the wild
Lilythesnake Feb 2021
We wait
It is February
It won't be long now

Winter brought us the Robin's song
Sometimes the blackbird too

Spring is near
They will arrive soon
And sing us through the summer

Chiff-chaff, chiff-chaff
Oh Joy!
Waiting for the voice of spring
Douglas Balmain Dec 2020
I sunk my fingers down
into the loam of an ancient
buffalo wallow and the
land that had quietly
prepared for their species
untold millennia before me.

I held the buffalo’s
mourning in my heart,
and felt the Buffalo Nations’
cry rattle against my ribs.

I opened myself to the
Earth and it spoke
sorrowfully to me
of its broken home.
Red Nov 2020
Soft footsteps echo through a starlit night
Leaves rustle underfoot, where a lone rabbit watches
Is the dark freedom born or chances few?
A cricket considers the melancholy.
Or neither? Something new?

An engine rumbles on a road a distance away,
Brittle twigs crunch under four slow wheels.
Waving goodbye, or merry greetings,
or something else, in between?
There! The golden arm of beech leaves dance in a breeze

an appreciation of the moment,
as moments, come to be.
a collection of seconds and fragments
from so many eyes
strung together,  as priceless as pearls
or an unknown prize.

will you see what the world offers in true solitude?
when it thinks you won't see what it can offer to you?
or will you pause, like the deer
to truly observe?
quiet nights, moonbeams,  and lone beech trees.
all that the universe believes we deserve.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2020
Constant instars
Exiled metamorphosis
So quiet you can almost
Hear the sun go down

Valle de Las Hamacas
Vista Hermosa
Spheres of Paradiso
Seismic dewdrop points
Listening to the night
Fall with the rain
Next page