#foraging - Hello Poetry

foraging on the shores of silence - songs on the wind

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Mar 25

Mar 25, 2026 at 6:01 AM UTC

nivek

10w shores of silence

foraging on the shores of silence - songs on the wind

2

I was out foraging in the woods today, This morning, when it was cooly, dark, and quiet, only the birds had a say — I saw the sun force the darkness to hide, Allowing me to see; Strewn branches, twigs and leaves astride. Dead waste or my fire’s delight?! I came home successfully, Joyfully and proudly with the efforts of my might.

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May 12, 2024

May 12, 2024 at 6:09 PM UTC

bekahalle

Foraging

I was out foraging in the woods today, This morning, when it was cooly, dark, and quiet, only the birds had a say — I saw the sun force the darkness to hide, Allowing me to see; Strewn branches, twigs and leaves astride. Dead waste or my fire’s delight?! I came home successfully, Joyfully and proudly with the efforts of my might.

9

I take Rowan to pick blackberries. I knew where they’d be Up through the allotments beyond the windmill, brambles hanging heavy in the sunshine We each carry what we could find in the kitchen: me a jug, he a plastic box. He clutches it to his chest with both hands, stepping carefully over cracks in the pavement. Here then, The clutches of fruit perch like children sitting on a gate. Rosehips and sloes peep yet through the leaves, biding their time. I say, look at the colours. Green then red and then finally shiny, glowing, deepest purple. And oh how the fattest fall just so into your hand, as if they have been waiting Soft bubbles bursting with juice Our fingers and chins turn pink I give him the biggest and sweetest. I like the **** ones, sharp as a high summer sky. The evening sun sends our shadows on and on As I stop to watch him he grows, transforming right in front of me, long fingers and a wide wide grin, daisy faced, I must tilt My head to meet his eye. Now his hands find the furthest blackberries just beyond my reach.

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Aug 24, 2020

Aug 24, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC

rhiannon-clare

Margate, August 2024

I take Rowan to pick blackberries. I knew where they’d be Up through the allotments beyond the windmill, brambles hanging heavy in the sunshine We each carry what we could find in the kitchen: me a jug, he a plastic box. He clutches it to his chest with both hands, stepping carefully over cracks in the pavement. Here then, The clutches of fruit perch like children sitting on a gate. Rosehips and sloes peep yet through the leaves, biding their time. I say, look at the colours. Green then red and then finally shiny, glowing, deepest purple. And oh how the fattest fall just so into your hand, as if they have been waiting Soft bubbles bursting with juice Our fingers and chins turn pink I give him the biggest and sweetest. I like the **** ones, sharp as a high summer sky. The evening sun sends our shadows on and on As I stop to watch him he grows, transforming right in front of me, long fingers and a wide wide grin, daisy faced, I must tilt My head to meet his eye. Now his hands find the furthest blackberries just beyond my reach.

38

the humble dandelion a **** to some but a wondrous gift to me clusters of yellow flowers decorating fields of grass like tiny smiling faces signaling the birth of spring delicious bittersweet leaves nourishing earthly roots cleansing to liver and body abundant and free nature’s most overlooked plant

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Jun 25, 2019

Jun 25, 2019 at 4:18 PM UTC

pacelli

humble dandelion

the humble dandelion a **** to some but a wondrous gift to me clusters of yellow flowers decorating fields of grass like tiny smiling faces signaling the birth of spring delicious bittersweet leaves nourishing earthly roots cleansing to liver and body abundant and free nature’s most overlooked plant

12

Happiness does not come packaged in prescription bottles Or plastic baggie, top carefully sealed It cannot be found at the bottom of empty shot glasses Or finished beer cans, that is not where it's revealed. Joy will not be found rolled up in a joint Not discovered in a small cardboard box Or scattered among powder lined on a mirror I have scoured many vials stocked with shiny rocks. Smoking herb might cause you to laugh and smile Hallucinogens can open your mind Fun feelings fade you'll feel worse than before Without aid of drugs contentment will be hard to find. Soon you will spend time chasing chemicals In form of a **** tab, straw, or syringe Whether you puff, eat, snort or shoot It comes down to the same unhealthy binge. Do not waste your life wrapped in burnt-up foils Foraging through crumbs for a shroud of hope We all have different ways of escaping Some fall too deep and never climb back up the steep slope.

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Jun 26, 2018

Jun 26, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC

AmandaKayBurke

Where NOT To Find Happiness

Happiness does not come packaged in prescription bottles Or plastic baggie, top carefully sealed It cannot be found at the bottom of empty shot glasses Or finished beer cans, that is not where it's revealed. Joy will not be found rolled up in a joint Not discovered in a small cardboard box Or scattered among powder lined on a mirror I have scoured many vials stocked with shiny rocks. Smoking herb might cause you to laugh and smile Hallucinogens can open your mind Fun feelings fade you'll feel worse than before Without aid of drugs contentment will be hard to find. Soon you will spend time chasing chemicals In form of a **** tab, straw, or syringe Whether you puff, eat, snort or shoot It comes down to the same unhealthy binge. Do not waste your life wrapped in burnt-up foils Foraging through crumbs for a shroud of hope We all have different ways of escaping Some fall too deep and never climb back up the steep slope.

20

Sometimes i wish life could be easier: i wish that i could live in a cabin in the moutons of Austria, where snow blocks all the roads, and the only company i have are deer and birds maybe the odd bear, i wish for peace and tranquility, for a time where everything just stops moving so fast. i wish for a place where even the most mundane jobs take hours, like chopping wood for the stove, hunting for food, foraging for sweet berries, making everything yourself, i wish for a time where i can just be at rest and not worry about coming back to this life that i live.

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Jul 28, 2014

Jul 28, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC

pookie

I Wish.

Sometimes i wish life could be easier: i wish that i could live in a cabin in the moutons of Austria, where snow blocks all the roads, and the only company i have are deer and birds maybe the odd bear, i wish for peace and tranquility, for a time where everything just stops moving so fast. i wish for a place where even the most mundane jobs take hours, like chopping wood for the stove, hunting for food, foraging for sweet berries, making everything yourself, i wish for a time where i can just be at rest and not worry about coming back to this life that i live.

12