"foraged" poems
A Breath of wind is wind itself,
should true and steady braided shelfs,
foraged fords from handsome lords,
prayed hopes & proper ropes,
could life and science meet the world beyond Biology?
"A home," it cried, "a home for me with trees and lakes and reverie."
I tried and cried for something else, elsewhere
I found a leaning shelf.
Should what was true and even hold nothing told or helpless here,
I cannot hide a place inside,
though I cannot say I really tried.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
big black bug,
bled black blood.
crunching carapaces,
caught, crawling contentedly.
magpie's morning meal.
warbling, wistfully,woefully, wanting, weighty worms.
grabs, grub greedily,gulping.
magpie makes much, munch.
click, clack, clack, black beak.
famished family, finally, filled.
***** flies.
finished, foraged feasting.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Time exploded,
Space expanded,
Gas turned into ***** of fire,
Suns,
Gravity made cosmic dirt into planets,
Oceans raised, life grew...
Swam and then walked,
Hunted then foraged,
Lived alone then lived together,
built villages then cities,
fought and then lived in peace,
lived and died,
all this so your auburn eyes,
could make me feel like a kid,
again...
in a toy store.
If you ask me,
I'd say we got off cheap.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:19 AM UTC
Wandering silently
though the wilderness woods,
far and away from the potholes
of well beaten pathways
The soft breeze slowly moves
the shadows cast in the moonlit night,
past the thorny bramble vines of time.
Wildlife paths illuminated by starlight
adorn the alluring wooded trail
Secluded pathways foraged by natural instinct,
ancestral prudence and intuition's guide
Each shadow drawn willingly
into a deeper enlightening journey
As if synchronicity united hearts
learning to speak minds
The depths of undaunting transparency
rendezvous with awakening breath
Looking back .., softly questioning
life withdrawn in discontent;
exhaling an unashamed freedom without regret
Lost in perpetual motion, found in heart
Separate souls illuminated by the moon
stood alone yearning for the touch
of healing light
Ardor of hope shines an inward light
as moonlight restlessly slumbers,
passion blushes in radiant colour
The night has a thousand coquettish eyes
shining on practical mysticism
The laughing owls of midnight
Echo allusions of crystal clear reverie
Stirred by swirling tempest breeze
showering down from high endeavors
where treetops pierce the constellations
Wisps of the twilight sky unfurl stardust dewdrops
drunk by earth’s thirsting sod
Nocturnal Cricket’s rhythmus acoustical wings
very quietly chirping a bashful courting song
Laughter rings out,
blissfully released,
like the joy of a shameless child
Nature sways with a gentle motion
Her leafy arms groan and moan the silent toil
as she holds up the weight of the celestial unfoldment
Moonlight moves across the dappled shadows
budding love born beneath her branches.
Two shadows embrace as one
emerging rapturously
from the tantalizing wilderness oasis
Reborn as naked as the free
mesmerized by the enchanting forest's spell...
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC
"Should we break up?"
(like the universe that, lying, we once worshipped
where I found the wooded field
/you foraged flowers.)
"Is it over?"
(like the night that you mistakenly uncovered and,
unknowingly, addressed my naked fears.)
"Please don't go yet."
(from the back of my old car, we learned to stretch the time and space
to make them ours.)
Should we break up,
(like morning does),
(unlike to lie in bliss, so-laughing)
I'd lose foresight
for my eyes, so full of tears.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
grass grows through the cracks in the asphalt
of what was once glass avenue.
flashes of grayed sunlight reveal blasted facades
offering a peek through the gauzy veil of
years both distant and near.
woe be unto those whose days are spent
looking backward, for the past holds naught but
the pail glimmer of souls lost
to all but thought and memory.
shade and spirit haunt this place.
the river rages unabated over the locks at TVA;
a reminder of the folly of all grand designs;
there is no power here.
gone are your craft beers and artisan pickles and
small plate miracles filled with
foraged mushrooms and
duck confit.
gone are your bike trails and long hikes and
nature walks
down around the *** the pan and the handle.
appalachia has fallen.
the last stand lasted all of sixty seconds;
a minute too long.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
he laid me spread
like petals of a rose
in mornings dew
wet...
and gentle fingers
foraged; tormented
pleasure ripple
whimpered aches...
as I delight in his touch
gazing into warm brown
eyes, his sweet torment
begging
hungered panting...
hangs in our space, tingles
run rampant where tongue
glides; breathy sighs spill
flames of want
melding...
naked in blush; lips alight
against wet petals, spread
unabashed for his pleasure
eagerly...
hips ****** flush as tongue
touches, nibbling, tasting
consuming wet essence of me
ahhhh yes...
filling me stroke after stroke
the breadth of me in rhythm,
guiding; gliding flickering
front to back again and again
ecstasies trembles...
wet and wild passion rides,
taking him in deep up down
in out pulsing plunging in
stride
fingertips...
glide across aching breast
taut tips, moaned pleasure
slips between lips each dip
I ride; wielding flamed wetness
tip to shaft as he gasps
and I dismount...
tasting our bemingled wetness;
lingering in mid stride, teasing
veined throb ready to burst
easing, slowly...
tip tongue flickers head, he
tenses; to throat I engulf as
he begs, entrapping me tightly
between his legs
flushed...
his final ****** leaves me
submerged within our heat of
passion
still vibrant...
slides in the softness of me
where lips played, lush inside
my heat; enwrapping me in
the warmth of him
© D A Baugh. All rights reserved
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
This is a tale of a bird and a tree,
All revealed to a poet like me,
Once there stood a broad tall tree,
A bird flew, perched, and looked for tea,
Flew down and foraged in the grass,
A cat appeared, would the bird last?
"Quick, fly back to me..."
whispered the branches of the tree,
Safely landed, high in tree,
Munching little worms for tea,
Friends forever now, you see,
A little tale of a bird and tree........
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
I have climbed the highest mountain tops, yet you were their peak
I have trekked the vastness of the deserts, yet you were their oasis
I have foraged in the deepest of forests, yet you were their smell
I have swam in the bluest of oceans, yet you were their melody
I have explored the grandest of cities, yet you were their light
I have designed the most decorative of art, yet you were their purpose.
I have conceived the craftiest of culinary plates, yet you were their taste
I have engineered the most complex of structures, yet you were their hearth
I have lived a hollow life, and you filled it.
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 9:20 AM UTC
We buried the truth somewhere in this valley of lies,
Somewhere beneath countless years of nostalgic regrets and shattered dreams.
Its imbedded somewhere between foraged memories and our unbroken hearts.
We dare not unearth it
because our self induced amnesia will forsake us,
intuition will deceive us and
our thoughts will shun us.
So we stumble and stomp
over germinations of a colder tomorrow
but we let them grow
because we know
that the harvest will fruit its rewards,even if we are apart.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
I will love you gone. Fluttering heartbeats shake trees into homes. Planting feet in the disposible cottages I roam freely from. I love you Brown even though all I've ever known was Green. Once an alive thing now foraged. Barren as I am wingless, Cant turn away from lacking leaves. I will love you deathly even if you dont nourish me any longer. You return greener than before, but sap only so sweet can be found on a dead tree.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
I foraged the forest deep to write
And slow to loath the pens ink I fight.
The sounds of fall will purge this blight
A leaf blower sharp and smell of crisp air
Not a natural sound, but what do I care
It helps me write of fall’s natural flair.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
Recall the training days of April with
juvenile curiosity , myriad painted butterflies
sailing golden-green opportunity
Wisteria , honeysuckle fencerow borders ,
Young Cottontails darting to an fro over
flowered , broom sage cover
Honey and nectar filled the air , Quarter
Horses worked the stair step valleys on
dew covered morns , Longhorn cattle
called home by the tolling farm bell ,
Rhode Island Reds foraged the fresh turned
farrows , sunbeams emblazoned woodland narrows
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
on Stage
a peacock of makeup
the comedian
bating thunderous uproar
knighting fury
turning humour over the belfries
of the overcharged assemblage
he fouls with them
utilizing his vile material
putting together ideas that no brain wants scribe
visuals
you create yourself
(but
your twist at his bidding)
you become broken down and ******
applied apart by his gagging speech
and his splintering costumes of mood
the comedian builds from this
until rage
and ruptures of relief
integrate...
a berserk laughter is result
kettled in the mob reaction
a collective convulsion
a need
more than a mirth
japes dressed in death
have foraged a credible rebirth
his soldiers attired
he has seized his corps of souls
his Mad recruits of Chaos
the comedian pulls out a plastic toy Sabre
and directs the revulsion
(the Grand Prank)
in a charge against
the wealthy neighbours
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 11:41 AM UTC
Man is cruel, Man is kind,
Far from home, on arid land,
A litter fell on Arab sand,
Mother’s milk did taste so sweet,
She foraged out on hostile streets.
At night as humans sealed their fate,
By leaving each to nature’s fate.
For food and water the ***** did *****
That pup and her could live in hope,
Each win brought forward sunlit dawn,
The pup awaits her new day morn,
Till one desperate day the padding paws,
Of mother did not return at all.
Weak abandoned, struck with stones,
The starving pup abandoned home,
Cruel sun and humans tortured her,
And she decided she’d had enough,
Of constant hate and absent love.
Allowed by Law of God above.
She crawled with last remaining force,
And whispered with her throat so hoarse.
“Leave me be - beneath this bin,
When it’s over, throw me in.”
A week of cowering, ‘neath the steel,
Giving up each moment to mortal wheel.
Turning closer to the end,
Of pain, despair and suffering.
Whenever humans did come near,
With dehydrated constant fear,
She buried herself deeper down,
Away from hope in hopeless town.
One noise persisted above the rest,
But human kindness cannot expect,
A dog-eared dog in plastic shroud,
To welcome those inhuman crowds,
Whose only act in her short life,
Was taunts and stones and sharpened knives.
Still weakness and despair did come,
And to the gentle hand succumbed,
Unguarded neck - she did not care,
If flash of blade would cease her pain.
Light? Blinding sun! And sweet caress,
And milk? And water? And what is best!
The soothing stroke of calloused hand,
The coolness given as air was fanned,
And vaseline to smother ticks,
Head and shoulders, giving licks,
Of love and thanks to one whose kindness,
Battled through the Basra blindness,
The fate of Warpaws, so far away,
Was followed close by those who cared.
And all of those who did donate,
Were praying for her to be saved.
There’s millions more, but there’s no ban.
On trying to save the one you can.
So Alex, Jen and countless more,
You fought the fight but knew the score.
The chances of surviving past,
Emaciation and then at last,
Damage she’d never overcome.
Still - you tried to save this one.
Think on this now all is done.
Her final week – no baking sun,
Nor plastic melted to her skin,
But care and food and water in,
The faith of he who wrapped her up,
In tattooed arms of endless love.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
*
as two colours held by a single rose
just next to eachother 'n' right aside
tho of no existence when not beside
together as whole as beautiful arose
as water never mingles while frozen
but even if with Thy will not collides
tho all oceans work only within tides
flowin' into whoever Ye have chosen
for these are rivers full benevolence
to sail upon an everlastin' knowledge
tho misled to have of no beneficence
without understandin' bein' foraged
tho i do not know i will acknowledge
'n' ponder upon a rose's true essence
*..love always...
عرفان بن يوسف © AH 03/07/1436**
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
I've no master
In a lofty mansion
Forgiving wrongs,
Addressing my transgressions,
Throwing my daily sustenance
To be foraged before the dogs;
All-powerful and glory-ridden.
That's reserved for the down-trodden,
Praying from boxes,
Lucky to inherit the wind,
They're told.
But don't bank on it.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
Temple of Artemis;
Steal the cheese,
But remember
It isn't free!
For Artemis is always hunting!
Hunger.
But who puts out the dairy?
Wisdom.
For the kid who doesn't
Feel the need to thieve.
For the outsider of the pack;
For who wanders back
Carrying foodstuffs
They foraged,
They collected.
This is a leader.
"For why did you not steal, coward?!"
"I am not cowardly."
"Not fit then, lackey!?"
"I can lift, I can run."
"Then what was it?"
"The others couldn't."
"Your kind then, eh?!
You're kind then, eh!?"
"I'm good
As long as 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥."
It is for the stranger of the temple
Who is no stranger to the temple!
One who cares for the altars, one & all.
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
water fowl foraged
along the river edge
for small morsels
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 4:24 PM UTC
*Mercurial , lonely Sandpiper , combing the watery shores
Invested in the day , without regard to a stormy afternoon , strolling the sandy , familiar edge foraged by her ancestors with diligent , quiet reserve , a living lesson to be learned* ...
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
*Brown Winter grass hung like Spanish
moss , hardwoods dangled like Virginia Creeper
in planter boxes , a blue ocean laid placid , nary
one ripple , the earth was King , gravity a harlequin ,
songbirds whistled and foraged non-stop
Airplanes flew inverted
Rain flew into my sky
The engine winced , then died
Blue and red light flashed before my eyes* ....
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC
I foraged
The universe of words
Seeking a few
To remotely
Define you;
But I found
None...
Love...
~ P
(#FromTheHeart)
3/5/2014
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC