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Blair May 2021
Isn’t it sweet?
This light, smoky scent,
and humming birds
of orange or blue,
singing for their kids
a lullaby to sleep.

Looks like the clouds are being cruel,
by scolding us humans
and raining upon us,
wetting the dusty land.
“Aw, my poor ants!”
Here, they hide in their holes.
While some snails joined them too.

I remember hearing woodpeckers,
Did they go to have some snacks?
And some tea?
I wonder.

It’s quite,
even in this heavy rain,
Only the tapping is audible,
like tingling glasses
Quite pretty, I say..

The sun, sure is playing games,
Or is it his pride?
Nevermind.

The leaves certainly are having fun,
and there you see a peacock!
“My my as pretty as he is!”
Who’d want to cage him?
That’s cruel for god sake!

Surely the green vine up there,
Is glaring at me;
Am I his prey tonight?

Oh, how the moon is up,
as always, bright.
Now the bats I hear,
vigorously flying,
must they also be trying.

The leaves appear to be greeting me,
“Gee, my pleasure!”
They be hailing,
for all this water.

The soil seems to have slept
beneath my feet,
must be comfy, with all the moist.
Be sure to sleep tight.

The wind is dancing,
and the music is grandly being played
by the trees
and wet trunks.

The kids must be awake
by now
I see,
Mr. woodpecker is having some wine,
and there is the arrogant peacock,
performing in the spotlight.

All in a mood,
under the moon,
having a blast,
inviting me in
with an open heart.

I sit up at the top with Mr.Vine.
He’s still having thoughts for me,
but my apologies,
you’ll be sleeping an empty stomach tonight.

There I notice,
this little beetle
in search for his honey
climbing up the branch,
with all his might,
joining us in.

And my god, those ants are working hard,
carrying the berries I dropped,
for their desert at twilight.

Dear me, Mrs. snail!
Where is your husband?
Or is he taking the role of wife tonight?
Well, nothing to be disrupted in your sleep.
“Haha, she is lazy enough to even care!”
So like me.

There, there, you Ladybug,
small enough to be even noticed,
but beautiful enough by her red polish.
And the butterflies seems to have vanished in the dizzy air,
guess, they aren’t in the mood to mate
on this rainy day.

Tick- Tick
Aw, my time’s up,
I wonder what more lives would be there
enjoying their daily life
Smiling at every moment.
How warm
Wish I’d visit them again
They’d greet me with just as much as love.
wait...
“ Gah I forgot to beware Mr.Vine of those eagles above!”
Isn't it beautiful to just get drown in the nature?
Mark Toney May 2021
hardwood memories
well-rooted, time-tested, safe
~ hiking in mind's woods






Mark Toney © 2021
Poetry form: Haiku - Mark Toney © 2021
LC Apr 2021
she walks along the trunk of the woods,
pausing when she sees branch-like paths
nonchalantly lying down in front of her.
each path sings its own song for her,
but the songs clash against each other.
she steps back and covers her ears,
then starts singing her own song.
she looks away from the other branches,
letting her voice guide the way
as she strolls along her own path.
#escapril day 24!
Jim Apr 2021
Sat down to listen to the world today:

Heard a holler from the wood shoutin’, “They’re takin’ my land away!”

“They’re takin’ my fish and poisonin’ the waters.” I heard the ocean say.

And the air blew by with all the same problems ~ except it was enjoying the day.
Brian Turner Feb 2021
There is a space in the woods
Where the light bends in
The bushes form a large circulate nest
I go there sometimes 'n crawl into a ball
It's safe there, safe from harm
Time stands still

There is a space in the woods
Where the temperature is cool and the floor is dank
No technology can find me
No knock on the door
No demands for more

No one knows where the space is
Not even God
He keeps asking me
'Someday I'll tell you' I smirk
Have you ever found safe place to hide in the woods? If not keep looking. When you find it, sit down, close your eyes and meditate.
Within his paw
smeared bloodied red
by a deliberately mocking thorn
sat a
blanched ripple-y
guarachera strip of cloth
confined narrowly
between the love and the life lines.

TWO ROADS!

what remained of her
remained of the underthings
beneath

fluffing rows of silk
the heavy skirt had been raised
above the ankles
the creases no longer hidden in shadow,
one leg hoisted over the back,
the reigns held expertly.

Hey Beauty!
As it happens, the card numbered Eight is
Strength (also Lust)

She had surely fled
She has surely flown
through the trees and away
Not on foot at-all
while the three saw her pass.
great speed.
The two sisters
with that prince vulgaris looking on
curiously
Three daemon goblins watching from a distance
a disturbance
a smallish crashing
and afterwards
a scrap, sleepy and unfurled, relaxed
within the leaves that shudder
and give up the delicacy, slyly
into stubby fingers

Lovely
Dark
Deep
The Woods are Laughing!
Did you notice any scent?
Did it linger between
the thumb and the ring?
the remnant of her flowers,
Petals flouncing, swirling
in odorous potentiality.
a scrap, yes
a deep seated souvenir
Can we re-fabricate the whole from this little thing, you think?

we want her.
there are things that we want to do with her.

dangerous, they lean in close, nostrils flaring slightly
searching for the ambergris or the sticky  jasmine
sweet,
settling instead to gaze upon
the still clutched
still a little springy
sprightly, o! the remnants of her liveliness
and ***** and yet
No memories

3: at least let us show you the stage that we’ve built
with a clean sheet for the curtain,
paper cut-outs
and some sticks.
it’s called acting.
the wine and the wafer.
hidden in the trees’ darkening
‘the mattress’ lays where
the leaves will crumple

meanwhile, he’s petulant:
- why, if you’d just get off of that high horse!
- how long are you going to resist?
- are you STILL angry?
- why won’t you just let me stick it in you?

she telegraphs her response, cough:
‘you do know that in this
particular scenario
(fingers pointing downward and across
as if to suggest
that the scenario
had a specific location)
You are the wolf, right?
The wolf...

I, the girl,
am in the forest with my basket and
I have got a
cute little
blood red
crushed velvet
swing coat
With matching hood and a single task
And YOU
(with those other two *******) have decided
to bore ME with this ****?
Daresay slow ME down?
Of course I will get rid of YOU.
Wait, who am I talking to?

Let me also add that
there never has been any
high-stepping on my part,
nor ankle twirling,
no mandate to impress a stale balcony,
no sign of gaslit
illuminated
pink bows
that lay down flat
perfectly upon the straps
that snap
perfectly at the thigh,
NOT to be slid off a buttock (mine)
NOR crumpled into a dubious ball, ripped and torn
and yet I know that
that determined creature,
a hairy monster
more faithful than Argos,
is prepared
to wait a lazy eight
at grannie’s cozy house
in a sickly corner
over-eager and overwrought with
pandered fantasies
and explosions of once sort or another, irrelevant to me.

What I WILL admit to is
that the touch of those grubby fingers
transubstantiated at my waist
invisible
approach
as usual from behind
impatient and
impractical,
always too quick to make himself a beast
to rid himself of being a man

knowing how way
leads onto way
but I doubt if I should ever come back’
In shape and life more like a monster, than a man. - Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queen
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