#woodland
It scurries upon each tainted step,
Countless of seeds sprung beneath its paws,
Beckoning the way to its meal,
Stirringly commends its scheme to await,
Treacherous pounce from a rock to another,
Claiming its place beneath the trees,
A knowing nod to the skies above,
As it leaps towards the clueless quarry,
The mice squeals at the sudden departure of its own life,
Wrangling between the jaws as it shuts it close,
A lively tether released from its tenure,
With a feast to *****
A burrow from where it thrives,
Invaded by its own demise,
The content stoat gnaws the brown fur,
A mouthful filled with the recently deceased.
By Sarah Shahzad, June 2025,
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 3:06 AM UTC
a lifetime
short and simple
living in the wood
bathing in moon
splashing in rivers
watching stars
it's peaceful.
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 8:58 AM UTC
One day I hope to put these feelings down in writing
To find a way to simplify the way these carry me
The smell of worn leather and pine trees in December
A cold wind and a creek half frozen
The line of trees that separate my house from the wilderness
And how some days I wish I could disappear in there with you
We would hunt and forage
forge a path of our own
Play an out of tune guitar around a smoldering fire
We would live in the trees and hide in the grass
You would braid my hair and we would dance barefoot in a clearing
To the sound of cicadas and leaves underfoot
I love, I miss, I want you.
I hope for you.
More than I will ever be able to tell you.
Dec 12, 2020
Dec 12, 2020 at 12:01 PM UTC
A childhood of blackberry stained fingers and butterfly kisses
That turned into cigarette scented Sundays
Mondays alarm is hardly the birth of a phoenix
Everything is so loud
So you make playlists to block the days out
Talk to therapists so your voice drowns the sounds
Of hearts beating to the symmetry of structure
Evenings spent drifting through conspiracies
That put your mind in and out of ease
I have a shortcut, I can show you
Into a world of leaves
Your hair will tangle with the trees
The rain will batter you
Wet silk and scars
Mark promises on your legs
But smoky seasoned scrambled eggs
And a woodpecker at a pine
Is now your divine alarm clock
It will curve your mood
Become your instinct
You’ll be able to tell
When thorns become soft
You dress to un-impress
Ragged ankles of an empress
Enter your utopia
On carpets of brambles
To be danced above
A crumpled tent hosts
Seven sweet sisters
Fresh from the flames
Soul mates are on auction
Interviewed by ghosts
Who decide your wedding gown
You are never unqualified
Don’t let the cold get you down
Don’t let the past nourish you
The way you forget to let the sun do
Hidden in the woods
Branches block the dreams out
Climb to where the schemes rhyme
Disregard your sodden socks
The needles of a helpless hairbrush
Accept the untameable
As you stumble, wild
Your soles bare
You know your worth
Your place upon the earth
You curl up in the dirt
But there’s a nice view
And it’s a green that patterns the cosmos
Subsides the madman’s blood lust
It’s the eyes of your mother
And the scent of an absent lover
Let it cushion you
At least until Monday
Aug 5, 2020
Aug 5, 2020 at 3:56 PM UTC
I made it into Fern Land,
The deepest dark of the wood…
What's there that lies down here
They say we never should
Meddle or interfere with;
The nettle or the grub,
Not trees and not the ivy,
Not tick or grass or shrub.
"If people keep on meddling...!"
Shouted angry Puck,
And stamped his usually cheerful feet
And the mighty oak tree shook.
Puck continued, thunderous loud:
"You wait and see our luck;
Our homes will not long be exchanged
For flats, that them rich *****
"Like to keep all sparkling clean
And empty as a bubble...
For assets, don't you know, not homes!
This, my friends, is the trouble.
"Now, if money didn’t rule their world -
Our crazy human doubles -
They'd appreciate, like we do all,
That they don't need all this hubble.
"What a blindfold are these dollar bills!
That stop them seeing; all they need
To be happy, healthy and prosperous
Comes through strong communities.
"And not just ones of your own kind
Excluding other beings…
We've lived alongside each other
For tens of thousands of years!"
The crows and magpies, foxes, rats
The pigeons too, of course,
All shouted out in dear support
For their human friends and thought:
"Without those messy, greedy ones
Who buy more than they ought,
And throw the bits they cannot eat,
Our food stores would run short!"
"Whose news have you been listening to
My brainwashed forest folk?
You know **** well they tell you that
So that we here don't revolt!
"They treat you with disdain or pity,
Or want to keep you like a colt
Who lives but only half a life -
Unless they dare to bolt.
"Listen to each other now
And take in what you see...
Trust your fellow forest friends,
And you too can be free!
"It's something we must do together:
No man is an island, and nor is a tree.
All creatures here, we must have sign
That on this we agree:
That they must stop their tribal games
And fights for territory -
Terra is not theirs to own;
It belongs to every being.
They can't divide and conquer us
And if they try, they'll see -
The only option left to us;
Our wrath, on them, unleashed!"
Well I was in a sticky patch.
Oh, what was it to be?!
I did agree with Puck alright -
But what would become of me...
If I betrayed my human friends
For these ones to go free,
Would their blood then be on my hands?
What would become of me?
There was only one option left -
An obvious one really....
What if I could unite my people
Like these people in the trees?
What if they all thought,
And could picture perfectly,
That it was really possible
To have love and joy and peace?
And to have all that above without
The thing that we call money...
That there's more power in something else:
It's called community.
Let's stop those corporations,
With too much cheese already,
And distribute their gains
Amongst the poor and needy.
Let's think about our values
And not our property,
Let's take charge and make our own rules
Not live by others' shoddy,
Grim idea of what life's worth
Without having lived at all -
Or only a very privileged life,
So big that others seem small
As small they treat us, don't you see?
They WANT us all to fall,
So that they can pick us up again
And make four feet feel tall
Let's band together, all of us
United, organised,
To march on them and let them know
We're no longer satisfied.
Nor will it ever be enough
To eat the crumbs of their pie;
Not even a big fat slice
If it's not a fair divide
The energy of Puck
Ignited my insides;
For my efforts, courage
And certainty inspired:
The truth I must go out and spread
And nevermore shall I hide
Behind my privilege,
That sees the facts denied,
That forgets about so many,
Not noticing the lies;
Those convenient untruths
That turn our blind eyes.
And if the truth is difficult
And my humans, they deny,
And say they rather like
Eating the crumbs of that big pie…
That crumbs are the best part!
And if we beg we might get more.
Why cause trouble, rock the boat -
What you're saying is war!
War is not an option,
And that we'll see first-hand:
The wave that takes us there will melt
Their castles made of sand.
I'll say not war, but peace
Is what we will demand.
And if you doubt our human strength
Then with the forest we'll band:
I ventured into fern land…
And at that I'll hear them gasp!
The lure of the forest
Is something some can't grasp.
But if they went, they'd understand,
When the woods take off their mask;
The leaves, they whisper in the wind
And the magic, it would last.
I'll tell them how the forest
Is angry and upset
That those who go to visit there
Rarely show respect.
They worry for our humankind
That we're too easily led,
And silenced into endorsement
Of all sorts of crazy ****
Their homes are due to be destroyed -
Imagine if that was you?
And not to house the needy, no!
But to keep governments blue,
So their rich friends can own yet
Another piece of cheese.
They don’t care about us, no!
They'd rather see us freeze.
We suffer here with no safe homes
while they live a life of ease,
And the forest creatures, just like us,
Will have to scavenge on the streets.
Their trouble is the same as ours -
We all want the same things!
So why not join with them
And see what change it brings?
Let's trust each other, take a chance...
It has to be better than this!
And if not for you, then think of another
Who's suffering you missed
One who suffered prejudice,
Whose hand at the deal was worse;
Let's join all as family
And together lift this curse
We can write a new story
Where life and soul come first;
The soul is always equal,
No matter how big your purse.
Let's put our heads together
And try some different things
We'll get it wrong, sure! Once or twice,
But our aim is to have wings…
Let's keep that always in our sights -
Freedom to dance and sing,
And be ourselves in harmony -
Back to life us we will bring!
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 6:16 PM UTC
Way out on the bounds down deep in the struggle.
The killer sits dormant just waiting for his lover.
A fire ignites sparking the struggle.
Lighting the path to feeding his hunger.
The feeling he gets is fleeing at best.
Leaving him with feelings of grieving regret.
It's never enough the voice it whispers.
Crawl with me darling lets crest as Victors.
Up Upon a hill way out side of town.
The killer digs in beds himself down.
Awaiting the moment to levy his strike.
The feelings of eager and willingness bite.
Prowling the night stalking his ****
Taking the life in the morning chill.
Dreaming inside what he's done is his duty.
The thrill of the **** is more than consuming.
Lost among the trees deep within the forest.
The killer loved the wilderness made him feel normal.
He could walk along the woodland for weeks upon end.
No feelings of contempt no loosing his head.
How can a man be judged for making his fulfillment.
Taking another's life when the ******* deserved it.
Lost in the wilderness tasting no pain.
The feelings he felt removed from his brain.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 9:18 AM UTC
Old rings grow great
But the circles are less perfect.
Have to squint
To make the shape
Stand Stout.
Purple on black-
Looks bright!
******* on ****
High as a kite.
Some mornings
Stay stale
As old cheese in the fridge.
Stagnant.
No matter how hard I stare,
Or how much I squint,
I can’t make the blood
On palace walls
Look like liquorish.
I cant make the holes
In my shirt
Look like button holes...
Find the perfect partner-
My hand in hand;
To lead me across this ravished land.
To make it feel alright.
Like human means human.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
Blood-rich, vibrant, swirling petals dance, swing
Around breezes, tremble petulantly,
Feeling power course: green heartfelt stems sing,
Wearing thorn-mail, blazon, nonchalantly.
Cruel thoughts drift timidly toward the wood,
Shady under-shadows conceal pollen,
Ash bees sing the Roses’ song- Ruby food
Feeding volcanic hearts, single chronons
Bounce between young cupid’s glass heart garden,
Dream half coloured mirage: Wood-Nirvana.
Water drips and sputters, flower haven
Calls from woodlands as Father to Maiden,
Calling gently to sail, meander home.
Rest safe in the halls of horticulture.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 10:33 AM UTC
In ancient woodland
this child roamed,
lost in nature,
briar & loam.
Mapping clearings,
badger setts,
the places where
the deer had slept.
Picking berries
hops & flowers,
lying under
stripling bowers.
Until evening's
amber gloam,
with twiggy hair
racing home.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 1:22 PM UTC
The gentle space,
Fertile air,
Dappled light,
Some here,
Some there
Textured trunks,
Shiny leaves,
Hiding moths,
That soon
May be
Quiet sounds,
All around,
Pierced by calls,
Snapped twigs
And more
The scents, the smells,
The sweet bluebells,
That time is bliss,
You must not miss,
A wander in a wood
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 6:04 AM UTC
Through a torn visage, I see the flame
One torch, by day, reflects ages hence
That spark, they say, can't be to blame
But many, still, keeps shoulders tense.
Man, sincerely, calls for homeland
But flame to mirror rends reflection bent
When man, in jest, sets sparks to woodland
The forest, torn, its visage now rent.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
within a dark wood, no sound could be heard,
no rustle or leaf, nor chorus of bird.
though through thickets of thorn, and tangle of vine,
a traveller long lost, settled down by a pine.
it was then that the trees, and brambles beneath,
twisted their branches and made him his wreath.
a crown of late thorns, to place on his head,
by the exact moment, in which he was dead.
the traveller had wandered, for days through this grove,
mistook it for where there'd been buried a trove.
many had done so, the young and the old,
naïve in their search, for fairy-tale gold.
asleep on the fallen, both leaves and past men,
our traveller breathed once, then no more than ten.
his lungs filled with scarlet, his blood running thick,
from poisons and toxins of berries he'd picked.
as night came to banish, the warmth of the sun,
his corpse slowly stiffened, decay then begun.
what of his soul, his spirit, you wonder?
encased by his bones, shall never float yonder.
no other remembers, this story I've told,
long lost in myth and legends of old.
his death was not pleasant, nor lacking in strife,
it felt oh so sweet, to steal that man's life.
for I was the wood, that he'd set eyes upon,
to plunder and pillage, and lay his hands on.
but blind from desire, for coffers of gold,
the man did not witness, his follies unfold.
my treasure's not buried, but strewn all around,
if only one glances, to see nature abound.
the man had such fortune, in the palm of his hand,
but thought nothing of it, of cherished wood-land.
although he still lies here, enveloped in moss,
his death is not tragic, don't mourn for this loss.
a traveller he was, perhaps you are too,
but his soul was crook'd, his values askew.
oh yes he was selfish, and now he is mine,
his body 's held tight, for my roots to enshrine.
the lesson dear reader, I ask you to heed,
is that misfortune awaits, all men filled with greed.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Arrays of stars land softly
on this thick bed of pine needles
under your graciously reaching tree,
and we see impossibly blue, miniature
flowers with centers of infinite white.
Tunneling underground, more
have been born over the decades
since you planted their mothers and fathers
by hand, here in this garden that has become
a secret woodland, even in the middle of town.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
The sighing winds had lulled me here;
The waltzing boughs, too, had fallen for its charm;
The ivy, ferns, alders and the birches;
The quivering hemlock against my arm.
The travelled path was now long left behind,
And on hills of gentle moss I stood and gazed about
To find the purple cloak of twilight painting me,
And all the pines, not one left out.
II
The harvest moon in its splendour came rising,
Had poured itself on the waters deep;
The birds were silent, the wind still sighing
Had brought the woodland a drowsy sleep.
The dawn had come in golden light
And where I was I did not know -
I wandered long to find the path again,
And in the distance heard the river flow.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC