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Eloisa May 2020
I sang my anguish to the winds
And followed the ravens to the woods
The trees, the wildflowers
froze in silence
But the leaves began to dance
like witches casting spells
I howled and shouted my despair
The rivers seemed to wail with me
The way was dim, the path was dark
I took the trail and endured the pain
I felt the darkness and heard the silence
My heart was torn and lost
but it was enlivened
by the nature’s glorious tapestry
The little sunshine hues
that seep between the branches of the trees
The joy of streams, the thousand greens
The nature’s been my muse
It wakens my spirit and fuels my energy
Wearing its color spirits
I have now reclaimed my wild and magic
laying in a bed of wild flowers in a clearing in a wood
calms me
a gentle breeze brings the scent of the flowers
cleansing me
the silent sound of the wood
awakens me
and a flap of a bird, the cry of an animal
heightens me
sunlight breaks through the leaves  to
enlighten me
and peace washes
over me
THEN the music from my phone
disturbs me
Turn your phone off when walking in the woods.
LC Apr 2020
the vibrant plants
and talkative animals
cleared a path for her.
she followed that path
for a while, then paused.
she sat at the bank of the river
watching the leaves go by.
she placed her fears,
doubts, and troubles
onto these leaves,
whispered "goodbye,"
and let them float away.
#escapril day 22!
Casey Apr 2020
Take me to where the sidewalk ends.
Past the dark streets that wind and bend.
Return me to what I used to know.
Bring me to the roads diverged into the wood.
Let me take the road less traveled as I should.
I refuse to stay along this normal path.
Our prompt was to pick our favorite poem(s) and write a response.
Mujen Suraj Mar 2020
When she close her eyes
the world shrinks,
and with the bee buzz she fall in the woods.
The woods beneath her eyes.

She find herself in mystic and safe place,
and settles there like an unborn soul.
Free of all dreams and bounds.

She doesn't afraid of howling dark clouds, which never let the sky blue.
neither of gigantic trees,
which let realize her exiguity.

She hids there sometimes,
willingly, to provide her calmness.
She creates the puzzle of thoughts,
an keep in her pocket.

The woods beneath her eyes.
Isabella Mar 2020
Just a lone girl, wandering the woods.
All she has is a book and her quill.
She can write, but doesn't know if she should.
And you'll just have to see if she will.
Leigh Everhart Mar 2020
The glen where felled men slept
Where the creek’s deep bed trembled, reeled
Where the green ferns, restless, crept
Where the breezes blew, flew, wheeled
Where the trees, the sweet elms wept
Where the gentle red wrens nested
Where the elks, when freed, then stepped
Where the fleet, serene deer rested
Where the scented bells were kept
Where the jeweled, fresh dew met green
The glen where felled men slept,
Where men were never seen
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