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I was here, in this dark wood
To find the treasure, I believed I could
But after wandering for years alone
In this forest of thorn
Under the sky, whose color so deep
I cannot further hold my weep

Is there anyone to help
Please tell
Can I cross this cruel forest
Or by coming here, I become a bonehead

'cuz if "or" is true,
I want to die
As I cannot handle a hope
That will become a lie
Ever go in the Forest of Thorn
hand me down stories
an indian burial ground
figures in the woods
three piles of rocks
the same log
bundle of blood


               i am so, so sorry
Aparna Oct 18
rain mist wreathed
virid groves
of evergreen
sun languished
behind clouds grey
overcast sky
lachrymose;
distant rumble
thunder;brontide
pellet-laden gusts
of wind;cold
leaf-stirring
nubivagant drops
falling
glistening foliages
rustling;
celadon leaves
rain-washed
brushwood damp
galore humus
dewy silence;
gerful downpour
incipient
another rain poem:)
Erian Rose Oct 1
Green nights dusted newly fallen leaves
tumbling about aimlessly
in the mid-autumn breeze
creating pathways to the unknown

Deeper woods trailed sea salt skies
Smells linger of
forgotten books, hollowed trees
midnights up past sunrise

Stars twinkled above
A guiding path for all
of adventure that awaits
In the mountains to the coast
mark soltero Sep 29
searching for a door
to the forest
i can’t seem to find the way
the crickets echoing cry
can be heard in the halls of this sprawl
what will become of me?
is the envisioning of the murky waters
behind the woods going to give way or
will we ever overcome the weight of the greed around us?
will the pits filled with cellophane and bisphenol break hold of gravity
can the earth fall to the bottom of the universe?
will we feel the blow of the astronomical damage that we have done?
can the money you paid to wipe away your sins truly be forgotten of?
when the world begets its metamorphosis
to the hell it’s always meant to become
you won’t see me
your money will be gone
i’ve always been meant to see the inferno
but this is your doing not mine
prim' Sep 27
There was a witch
In the meadow near the forest
Living in a tiny house
With walls of woods
And roof of grass

There was a witch
Dressed in black
Picking Chamomile,
Sage and Thyme,
Rosemary, and Mint and Chives

There was a witch
Dancing in the night
When the moon was high
And the stars all out
Singing a song that no one knew

And I couldn’t help to wish to be that witch
For she lived happy and simple
Tizzop Sep 23
black branches of memories
fill the space of asking, dear
frost is wandering over your face
as you trying to wash away the past

black branches of ruins
the land of destroyed desires
numbers are useless, speed up
as dem shadows are scenting you

black branches of the woods
naked, purple-eyed like zinfandel
clearing the way, get out of here!
wired thorns ripping off your skin

black plumage of the crow
attachments burn fiercely in hell
nobody is to blame for, brother
in deep respect, esteemed sister
M Srisaravana Sep 15
Out in the woods as I walk,
Senseless time had passed,
Watching the leaves fell on the feet,
Green has turned into black,
So much trunk, all around me,
No one else there to be seen,
How did I end up so much deep?
Only the dream could tell,
I wish only the dream could tell.
Sanjali Sep 14
Whisper me the story
Of a man walking through woods
His bare feet on warm earth
And his ragged face in a hood.

Sing to me his thoughts
The life of his green eyes
The mirth of his fingers
And the peace in his smile.

Mumble to me the language
That he spoke to old trees
The sweet embraces he left
To fragrant petals in the breeze.

Tell me a story
Of the man of the woods
Who slept under starry nights
And woke up to the truth.
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