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 Nov 2018 Tori
Cné
The Tree
 Nov 2018 Tori
Cné

Through the withered branches
where the verdant leaves once grew,
I stared up at the old oak tree
against a sky of blue.

The branches stretched to heaven
as a supplicant might do.
It seemed to pray, as if to say,
"My time at last is through."

I wondered at the gnarly trunk
and limbs of twisted wood
And for a moment thought of life
and almost understood.

Life and death go hand in hand.  
Our time is our's to spend.
But like the tree against the gale,
‘tis better if we bend.

I'll pay it forward when I can.  
Thy brothers' keeper be.
I'll keep the roots well watered
and learn the lessons of the tree.

It shares the world with nestlings
and it's acorns oft abound,
To feed the hungry denizens
that glean them from the ground.

It's leaves give shade to those below.  
It's branches form a gym.
Children climb to see the world
and love this gift to them.

And as I watched, the farmer
came and laid the old husk low.
Firewood now, would be it's fate
and make the chimney glow.

Ashes unto ashes and to dust
we must return.
All of life in cycle goes
and from this I hope to learn:

This gift of life to all below,
all creatures great and small,
Is just a stop upon the trip
we travel, one and all.

Inspired by a photo shared by Melissa. Happy Earth Day!
 Nov 2018 Tori
Valsa George
Like a toddler taking maiden steps
The narrow stream moves through the woods
Tripping and falling over pebbles and boulders
Chiming its silver anklets

Forcing itself in irrepressible flow
It thrusts and shoves its way down
Through thickets and a line of ferns
And the tangle of creepers and thorny brambles

Drowning the whisper of bamboo leaves
Its sweet murmur falls in my ears
As an eternal living melody
The cosmic song heard over eons

As the water sluices down the rocks
It becomes a frothing braided torrent
Producing a harsh grating roar
Like the crescendo of a tribal symphony

There it forms into a small pool
With its waves gently rippling
Where birds merrily come to take a dip
And sunning their feathers, fly back refreshed

Sometimes travelling unseen
It suddenly emerges into the open
Cutting its way through cracks and fissures
Never willing to surrender before hurdles

With a bearing immaculate in grace
It sends out waves of pure delight
What joy it is to watch the dilly dally
Of this sedate pilgrim moving to its destination
 Nov 2018 Tori
Thomas Bodoh
The flaming jewels now burn with phoenix fire
Red as rubies, alive as sunlight fair,
Within your woodland eyes, a glowing gyre
Each morn reborn to fly with splendor rare.
The forest dark, alive with creeping death
That lies beyond our cottage warm and true,
Writhing with wily worms and ****** breath,
Withers to meet such elven souls as you.
Your arrows straight fly true with poisoned peaks.
Each well-aimed word impaling wicked foes.
Your bow drawn taut will taunt the shadow-freaks;
Your mystic blades will blaze with azure glows.
Blow the sky-blast trumpets! Split the quiet night!
She wields the deathly darts; she fights with phoenix-light.
To my sister.
 Nov 2018 Tori
Thomas Bodoh
Thank you for asking all the hard questions
that I tried to answer but you never believed me

Thank you for that ring you dropped into my bag
the golden one with the intertwined hearts

Thank you for making me love the wrong way
each glance like someone that doesn't hug back

Thank you for darkening the sky over my head
with your horrible grinning and coaxing and breathing

Thank you for begging me to tell you what's wrong
so I can fashion a fantasy of black hoodies and grief

Thank you for letting my lie to your face
slipping through my teeth under lips with a smile

Thank you for making my poetry crumble and
become rambling lines about love

and other awful things
that kind of don't
matter when
it gets
down
to
it
 Nov 2018 Tori
J.R.R. Tolkien
The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet,

And whither then? I cannot say.
 Nov 2018 Tori
J.R.R. Tolkien
All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.
 Nov 2018 Tori
Thomas Bodoh
Just another broken heart
flattened into words again,
Smearing across the pasty page
like black or blue-blotched blood again;
Just a touch of token art
with which to whip the world again;
Fearing a cross too crass to carry,
They faerie-framed their thoughts again:

Take time, took time, take time this time
To clash colors, a mix of chromas, aromas:
Molten gold, glinting, told tales this time
Of sins staining souls, a soma, a coma;
Forge phrases, four ages of metals to melt
Syllables, words, still able swords, vaunt,
Down and up high the hammer to **** her
Or him for whatever however we want

Looking for troth or truth, that thing;
Maybe by binding books we can find it.
It should never make sense, confusion is
Beauty apparently; form or frame has aged
Too sage, or something, just a splash of
Words on a page, repeat, repeat
Sounds lovely, drip, drop, break, love, hurt,
He said, she said, forever and for ever, then
Stop

Something simple, sight or sound,
Take a second, and rely
On real eyes
To realize
The real lies
We're all just
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