Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Undesignated Feb 2013
The crisp sounds
of the trail
the pure nature
the peace of it all
A headache that was too much to bare
made my nose drip blood
and taint some purified leafs
Guilt began to strangle me
I picked up the two stained leafs
the leafs illuminated the color red
against its dark brown canvas
my nose was still bleeding
The crisp sounds were shuttering about
I fall to my knees
with the leafs in hand
I look up to the branched covered sky
and think
the feeling tightens around my neck
and my wrists
making me let go of the leafs
the pressure in my skull made the blood from my nose spew
the constriction grew stronger
and stronger
as I fall to my side
and grasp for one last breathe
i think
Poetic T Feb 2016
I had tried to cover it with* ink,  but it only
lasted a day before it
 bled from my fingernails.
It was a constant reminder that
 death  was
Inching closer with every month that past.
The ink veined upwards like poison ivy it
Slithered, each month passing another leaf
Grew and I knew it would soon come to pass.

It changed depending on mood, when you
Were younger you'd of  thought it magical.
Each new leaf budding and then it opened a
Colourful show for younger minds. Like a mark
Of maturity but that was so long ago. Now it
Inches above the elbow, shoulder, smiles melted
Away to how many more leafs before the fall.

Once it has ascended the flower blood red
Would unfold over your
 heart. Some so few
Petals, no time was assured. Then the falling
Would start. How many petals would turn
Culminating in thoughts of life that had many
Leafs but now the blossom was ebbing away to a 
finite culmination of time. Tears fell, so many cried.

Watching others when that mortality was arching
Towards oblivion, some were at peace making the
Most of fading petals. Then there were the fallen
Timers, succumbing into limbos insanity. Who could
Blame them in their consumed thoughts, they were
Screaming wildly in the streets, others tried to
Cleaver the flower from their being, crimson fell.

My time was so complex, when the flowers eclipse
Was passing where colour became grey, Dark thoughts
Ensued but I knew that nothing would pass except
My moments of what was left. So I regained my composure
I would not be a fallen I would not be consumed
By the decaying flower upon my chest, I had time left
And I would savour the moments that fell dark.

I lay their family were overjoyed that this time was
Not spent alone, consumed in denied misgivings.
But that I wanted them all here when the flowers final
Moments etched to a lovely shaded flower that was
My final exhalation of life. I could feel it, I felt the
Fragrance fade in that final moment I breathed deeply
Taking in the essence of every moments aroma.

I died, but I past away proud that the ink may have
Started at birth and that the leafs were a monument
To my time. But in the falling I was at peace with my
Flowers blossom and its enviable fading demise.

"We are each a leaf that has a grown,
**"But life is a journey and one day that leaf falls,
Life is finite use it well we all grow, but some fall early to early, make the most of your time.
topaz oreilly Sep 2013
The false Autumn when the leafs shed
like your sleeveless bridal gown,
in a cooler than expected September
that gave you goose bumps
and I imagined like a rumour
you had a tattoo of some past love.
For when I said I do
the past should be a spent,
bereft of decayed leafs and longings.
We have our own pinnacle to the stars,
an unspoken trust
and no false reasons
to be other than who we are.
WiltingMoon May 2016
Small leaf with the veins colours purple
Falls upon the pale skin of mine
Like a drop from the sky
It becomes bigger at impact
Purple greeting blue like a friend
The veins of the leaf now unrecognisable
Looking like a plum to bitter to eat
Beautiful colour
Horrifying meaning
Leafs from the branches of the black tree
With it's evil shading it's world
Sending it's leafs to fall on the weak
The 'loved' one of theirs...
Small leafs with veins coloured purple
Beautiful when fallen on pale skin of mine
But small leafs is what I tell myself
To forget the purple truth called pain...

"This is correspondent, uh, burp...
wait, winds r, yeah, okay go
back on live camera..."

pretend the wind
blowing you back

"This is the most major storm in recorded history of this network!"

"My God,
I could die in this sh..stuff."

"Five star hotel what the ****?"

"Okay, okay, live we are,
look here, pan closer, these leafs on this Raleigh plant here,
see how violently they are moving?"


"That is the fear one feels knowing that a category two,
at any moment, could become a category five."

"This Dave Mowers live from Hawaii,
checking in before I possibly die.
Mom I love you, Dad, well,
look how brave I am!"

"Is that an Asian girl?"

"What an a..cute ***, that,
cut to...
to the violent leaves again you ****!"

"I'll fire you cameraman!"

Four large oak trees have fallen.
 Four large oak trees have fallen.
Jacquelyn Cruz Nov 2010
You hear me from afar,
but my voice does not touch you.
You no longer want to feel ...

So let me speak with your silence ...

You're like the quiet nights ...
where not even a leaf moves .

And your silence, haunts my thoughts.

But let me tell your silence one thing ...
this, is how the dead live, in silence alone.
And you are more alive than anything I know.

Because I, once heard your voice, so sweet in the night...

You hear me from afar ...
But you, do not want to hear my voice.

You reject it as if I were your own pain,
If I am, then I ask your silence forgiveness...
it was never my intention.

I know you feel my words that fall upon you gently,
even the distance cannot tear them away!

So please tell me at least one word ...
it doesn't have to be of love.

So let the leafs move with the wind ...
and break the silence you carry within.
Bring your voice back to life...
**** the silence, that hides inside.
Poetic T May 2016
On shaded oaks his hooves he rested
leafs of summer where birds had nested,
with palms he held as fingers gently nestled
asking those who gathered of what was requested.

Wind blew silently through elegant wood melodies,
as creatures listened to soft melody all understood
that he was a creature of lore just like those surrounding.
This musical endeavour, his skill of tune was outstanding.

All moved to these whispers that lingered through air,
as fairies did dance and leafs did sway here and there.
The mood was jubilant as all were in relaxed feeling,
his rhyme of song had been to all so very appealing.
Umi Apr 2018
A dazzling sough,
The wind blows through, across the stunning white clouds, to Earth,
A dearness of the whistling, carrying a, warm breeze makes it worth
Worth but to say nothing less than; praise the new coming day!
Rustling the leafs, shaking them, letting them dance, then sway,
The wind is a transient traveler, rushing through this worldly life,
Gathering clouds together, a delicate drizzle is what they strive for,
Distorting, carrying, leading them towards the ground, wettening them in a scenery of a wonderous sight, fertilising the soil more,
Howling in a showering yet intimitating sense of the changing scene,
Blowing over each drop of pure water on the green coloured grass,
Spring is truly a season where dreams can sore,
It gives us the idea of something greater, something more,
Coming with ups, then downs, it gets carried away by the wind,
Until finally, the sunny days of summer are to come,
Sit down with me, listen to the sighing of the wind, don't be lonesome
By the sound it makes, the gentle song which blows through our ears
Can you hear it whispering ?

~ Umi
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Something is
simmering  *  
His spice the stars*
His cologne heat up the
Lips and taste boiling
The Green Irish Tweed
Epicurean love at
the Italian
Spice Epic Stadium

Here comes the
Sun the__?
Royal Mayfair

My Fair Lady
The spice diction of words
Her name is Sage Lady Bird
You could feel her smile

Carnal spice knowledge
Savory animalistic
Spice culture ******
Citrusy fancy dress
Not to panic
His Sunday gravy
Italian sauce garlicky  
She could win so pungent
Spicy lady Pagent

The poor stealing the
rich culture
Sage surrender like the Oz
Like Robin Hood

Spice of life this is our life
Top of the sea salt Spy
You better have a love
Like a deep pouring
Her Sage Genie bottle
on the stove

Her sheerness lascivious robe

The Meditteranean sea with
Four leaf clovers
These cultures and eyes of
strength feature
There is no time to
break up for the love of a spice
Is this the human race
Fresh linens better company
What a primary
Oh! Hail Mary

Those ethnic spices
what a sensual smell
Sage pretty coffee cup show and tell
What a razzle top of her cake
The media takes over all
painted and swirled
Baked spicy finger she dialed

Through her locket heart sake
Recovered love reconciled
The Teddy Rosevelt or Chicago Bears
tight hugs of cultures

Hairy chest his smooth gestures
Culture rough and tough exterior

Like the smile beautiful mind
Beyond to be seen
The Spices computer
world of devices
Strawberry fields forever
But what is forever more love

Do we always lose our stripes
Feeling layered with her cereal
Tony the tiger
Whats great about curses
Sage speechless can feel the
roar spicy mouth
Going South or North
Victorian corset sensual
Guity spice dark side of Goth
Hot desire from both
The pine needles
Christmas time
The mistletoe kissing pointing to the star

Wearing herself out with her
pointed pump shoe*
But losing her spirit what to
*The Blue Horizon Spice Rub

The  pub the sky has no limits
to the Stars that twinkle
The Gods to their *****
Rip Van Winkle
Dry Vermouth or the Russian Roulette
French spice Crepe Suzette

"Adam I Apple Dante Jubilee
Eve was more like a neigh
Horse spicy slide Colonel Spicy mustard
Meeting General Lee Sage custard

Her handkerchief
with sage cut leaves
Hearing echoes what gives
Anyone's spice rack
of shoes engraves Sage leafs

Noone really knows for sure
She wore spice deep blue velvet
Jade Ring Brittish Colony
Stuck to her beliefs like a magnet

Eating vegetable and fish
Her best China ever find her dish

How the jade chandelier twisted
Became laughing like two musketeers
New York City love Serendipity
The Queen chair so domineer
'What Debutants"
Crazed like spices of mutants
The anger management getting
the evil out
The shoutbox strong clove spice
Sage was never outfoxed
Her **** jaded uniform
The firefighter Smoky the bear
  eyes of candlelight storm
didn't make it this year
Torn to tears like two
vultures of
the haunted night
He peddles fast
But the fear needs to disappear

Fresh lake smells fresh
as her breath
The culture and media
make tons of mistakes
She knows what she wants
Not a jungle of
poisonous snakes
He knows what he doesn't want
to tell her
Perhaps losing his
bark dog naps
The best part engage her on
Sage with a heart
The fruit her
flesh and blood
The blood on his finger
Her medicinal herbs
of China
The mason spice jar is empty
The full heart needs his half
Cream of the crop
Careless love accidentally
spice dropped
Sensual Chin like pine needles
The exception to the rule more leaders
Remember Every September
to leave your scent
We all have needs we want
Drinking all the flavors of Snapple
*Big waves of the ripple don't you
love her amazing dimples
Sage spice mighty divine but when its mixed love can be jinxed watch out. But just keep singing her "Sage way" her garden is magnificent in every way just pray
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
A special lace-like card
        *        *        *
Three Star points
       *  *  *
Sword-like smile-Bored-Hike pile-
Western Union Man
Money flies like Superman

Spinning wheel fan too guard
Special words have no regard
He's the Adonis-like the
Lazarus lovely-like Venus
Those effects in motion
That special tip above her lips
Steady as they go but motionless
The stars walk across her
sky lifted dress

Heavenly Pillsbury flour
Her hair flower no water
Smile Lift even in debt
Messed her heart so red
White light disaster
Nothing on this earth
we got to lose no control
Here's the *Special Rose

Winter/Sunglow hair
The Flatiron

A spaceship cowardly lion
Your the "Wildcat"
Crazy Oats
Space waves of the neutron
The dream on
Your eyes are blind
A clear day special motif
setting inside your
Word heading leaf
He lifts up your
blinds all
righteous minds

Those special love hands
Nothing was ever
staged starlight and bright
  Never yellow

It blocked out
my *Godly
On the good earth leaf
Helen Keller had the
good remedy family
When you are deaf
A green touch of
brown leafs
What you smell and feel
What's truly there
special beliefs

Or at the most
Famous Cemetery,
You got blinded  so
gilded star
you don't
see them

One of a kind that's him
Or the encounters of the
third kind Winter/Sun
The darkness slim-man-run

The cactus desert of my heartlands

Jack of all Trader Joes investments
My E-book and I Phone
best T-bone steak
Spices of theVegetarian Kingdom
Curry in a hurry for Indian Food,
E-T Extra
Terrestrial Space high bill total

ABC Chemical love reaction
A special motif so personnel
"Divine District Attorney"

Taking spiritual love
what lies beneath us
Lotus Tea Panda Bears
Of Journeys
Pyramid or the myriad

A-Special Motif
comes to me
Two Gods surrender me
Something you feel but
it's unknown
Never left in the dark
like a treasure
Teeth chatter Gold caps
Almost happy coffee
almost dark

Too many famous labels
A special romance new leaf
Time change challenging
Winter sun/Wonder fun
Amarous open chorus
Special maid devious
A special Motif delicious
The honest lawyer
Special talent space
of braces
Subsequently or coincidentally

What was special
The board meetings like *Erasers
To erase all the special places
in my heart

Dark despair trail parted
Ending up with a trail
of mixed nuts
Cars such a pain with
Synthetic Oil ****** -like Oil

The conjuring or searing
Holding the leaf in spirit
special times remembering
Sapphire September October
Comfort foods November
The heartburn living
The Winter/Sun
Special motif holding onto
his one brilliant leaf in
Ancient Egyptian King of Tut

Yearning the solemn vows
The full moon is
turning a
new leaf
The painted picture leaf
special Motif

Love so committed
The time was omitted
Family poor or rich
Invitation *Winter Sun

Those who are in need
The beacon like a
poem of goodies mend

Heaven that feeling
called my own
Even things that
are special
became unknown
Not always about
being famous

Things that are simple
that's what remains
precious eat sleep Jeep
The fairy came sweet nectar deep
Was so kind humanly rare find
A special note with a motif
I will never forget what was our belief
A special God or Motif a spiritual beauty her leaf but even when you are deaf you can smell the beauty lingering everyone is  work of beauty just living
Come little leafs
Said the wind one day
Come over the meadows
With me and play
Put on your dresses
Of red and gold
For summer is gone
And the days grow cold
© 1980-something ... wrote this poem to my aunt when I was a kid, inspiration starts young!
David W Clare Jan 2015
Branch out leafs stuck in tables
The call of the wild
Inner child alive
Bust lose wild horses hate their stables

Some birds don't fly?
Chicken with head cut off can dance
Do all 16 dances
Can't fly to France

Or live in a tree full of owls

Crows nest
Birds and the bees
Eat from flowers
Just like all the rest

Reincarnation, a dead man takes a vacation
When I die I want to return as a wise owl
Live with a girl owl

In a tree full of owls...

Davey of Montana
Owls are hip!
Poetic T Jan 2016
I wondered when this point would come? A knife
Etched upon my form. Downing were my regrets
In these wine tears. I would die for her in a heart
Beat, this time of leafs no longer falling.

Not long ago we were a happy family, then it
Happened, what was it? Never knew just that
We were in a fountain of dismay. She took her
Herself and him. How could she take her from me.

I looked down a smile of copper as I took her cheek
In my hand and said don't cry my angel. you'll live
Even though ill be gone you'll still carry on. so much
I wanted to carry on to a better place. But I'm her father.

Drink it, I know its warm but you live. I miss the leafs
On the trees. Now but skeletons a memory of beauty
Now desolate and incomplete. I watch her drink eagerly
Heaving but living, she lives but I am a leaf and I fall on tears.
`ll live
Blade Maiden Aug 2018
Sleeping in a silent forest
night sky come and swallow me whole
I promise I won't protest
These stars may fill my tired soul
And these trees, oh, how I love thee
Lush and green, dark and eerie
This is where I long to be
Here is where I'd never be weary
I put my life onto the earth
Dig myself a hole for a bed
This is where lies all lifes worth
Here everything is, I miss nothing I haven't had

Roots may pervade me, leafs shall cover
And in my stead another will grow
I will dissolve in the arms of my last lover
And of all misfortune it will never speak nor will it show

On new branches my soul will hang
until another
Poetic T Nov 2015
leafs hide modesty
natures beauty bestowed
woman's creation
Nature is a woman that bestows her beauty to all creation.
Umi Aug 2018
Tell your tale to the wind,
Be scattered across the sky, sing without ever being rewarded,
The falling of the leafs may be a sign of change, a warning of colder times crossing your path in this loitering darkness which takes over,
Allure is the thought of hope guiding, leading, escorting you through the misery of your own conscious, out to a far more pleasant world.
Wretched, you fight on as it slowly slips away, loses its strengh,
It is heartbreaking to watch them trying to get back, not flinching despite their wounds and scars they carry from the river of time,
Stained in crimson at last the flower petals of the falling season, reflect upon death repeatedly, with each one falling the soil cries out.
Take a dance with me in this distorted somber dark there is nothing to be sad about, the fate to be forgotten is the fate of every face, one day,
They wither over like the roses during autumn, fall from grace alike the petals of the sunflowers when their time to leave for the next generation has come, or alike the dandelions scattering their seeds,
But most importantly, is to not forget that whilst existing you can make a change, for yourself, for the better, for others,
Maybe you are their light their flower of a spring dream.
Even if humans continue to live wretchedly,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.

~ Umi
Don't cross the border of the conscious too early, fall when the time to wither has come.
Primrose Clare Dec 2013
veins of my fingers in riots of blossomed colours
like threads made of lilac, lavender, blues and leafs.
for the blues are essences of the Elysian skies,
while lilacs, lavenders and leafs were stolen from an old man's farm

every dawn the sunlit blue wept for the docile stars' hide
I knock my knuckles red and wild, like the raspberries from the monsieur's farm
my chin against the beige, I gaze to where the magpies talk too loudly on the garden moist
swollen and offended by the loud chirps of boisterous dins, the grouchy neighbour cry.

I fill my baskets with wild things and papers,
I have cheese and juices, fruits and sweet carrots.
I have peach trees on my nails for jam
I have cherries in my toes for pie
I have snows in my lapin's soul for some ice creams
I have poppies in my worn pants for a good sight
And there's even vineyards of all Verona in my mind

the ribbons on the hat loom into the gardens' tunnel;
I have herb gardens, I have secret gardens 
And I have my old books and pens in there.
when my laces are riven, the embroidered flowers are not.

the canvas shoes is painted in petrichors and soil
my dresses go tattered, sewn with patches
into the vines, thorns and russet throats I lilt and leap
against smells of rustic wood pencils and redolent flowers
There, under a green willow is where to sit and devour wisdom
and to drink some saccharine wine with mon lapin and maybe some picnic pies.

The abominable tremors will be gone,
My morn soul diving into fairy pools of sensuous europhias.
Umi Apr 2018
Summer sun, lots of fun, let's go to the beach,
The moon tonight will be warm with light a border does not breach,
The wind carries dust along, rust adorns some iron, lets sing a song!
Birds and bees, fly through some leafs of the happy blossoming trees,
This time to come, as spring moved along, worth looking forward to
Oh little cloud, are you coming in a crowd ? The sky begins to darken,
A thunderstorm with many lightnings, harken to their voice,
Growling loud and ominous, it's not like you would have a choice,
Once this heaven clears up, the scene will shine brightly,
Like the sun, gone beyond the zenith simple yet lightly,
Lose yourself in the wandering fragnance nature offers you,
Once you're back, your back will crack by the work you do,
Wishing to have cherished moments of such joy to an further extend,
Time is some wealth everyone possesses yet you should not pretend,
to have plenty of it when it is running out and coming to an end,
Let's enjoy the summer sun, together as long as we can,
Doesn't this sound like a good plan ?

~ Umi
Rowan Deysel Jan 2018
Near a town of history untold
Where everyone knows each name
Wooden behemoths - obliviously old
Each unique but each the same
It was meant to be a perfect day
Of tranquility through the trees
Instead, the sky is brood with grey
And the leafs flow as they please
Alone, in nature's splendor spilled
In a rainy wilderness, seldom seen
The birds and insects grow suddenly still
In a spread silence of the green
Like eyes embedded in your back
You sense the stare of something sour
The mood hurries to horrid black
As you quiver into a cower
In bending branches blended
Creeping in creases - camouflaged
Nature's imbalance to be amended
In the forest's full mirage
Witness a terror appearing
Frantically floating from afar
Emerged in echoes and vaguely veering
Black, bleak and bizarre
A malevolent, monstrous maw
Snarls of hunger, habit, and hate
A malodor of meat, reeking raw
A violently increasing heart rate
From frozen still to fearfully shaking
You are manically mesmerised
Your pupils promptly dilating
As you and the beast lock eyes
Your meaningless attempt to run
From a stride to a collapse
The beams above crown the sun
As the twigs around you snap
A soar of pain as you hit the ground
Chest cavity cracked open
As you faint, you hear the sound
Of a language never spoken.
Gutted and gargling gore
Eaten by nature's nightmare
Convulsing on a forest floor
Indifference chokes the air
It's just another perfect day
Of tranquility in the trees
The rain has stopped, the leafs still sway
With the cooling, comfortable breeze
Nesma Aug 2018
“I remember the bed just floating there” is how Phil Kaye started his ‘repetition’ poem.  
I remember pausing the youtube video after he ended his masterpiece.
I remember burying my feelings under 3 blankets and 4 hours of binge watching spoken word poetry.
I do not remember the dreams I could have had.

I remember the set of nightmares that visited religiously like the downstairs neighbor tired of how loud my heart pounds at late evenings.
I remember, very clearly, how they went.
I do not remember if I have written them down.

Dream one: he peels my freckles off my skin; he says he needs them because his coffee is too light. I scream while he calmly adds pints of the cheeks I inherited from my mother’s melatonin and the sun’s intensity to his coffee. He says I can never be as quiet as the girl who managed to sneak into his ribcage and build herself a bedroom.

Dream two: We are standing in the great library of Alexandria. He pulls the sea from underneath my feet and stuffs it into his back pocket. He says he needs it because he is tired of drowning himself in uncertainty. I start to cry and he says: Aries is the god of war, and women born under this sign confuse war for love.

I remember the mole on his left ear growing bigger in my nightmares without me ever watering it.
I remember he smelled of tangerine trees and broken records.
I do not remember if his face looked like the man I almost fell in love with last winter, or my father.

I remember the first time I saw my father after he came back from Ukraine.
I remember his brown leather shoes that oozed of old spice cologne and neat scotch.
I remember his hardly worn pair of glasses and the pieces of me they never cared to read.
I remember the wrinkles that seemed newer than his glasses slowly colonizing his hands... the hands that never held me as tight as the dress I wore to my school prom hoping it would catch my ex’s attention.

I remember wearing a dress that day, I hate wearing dresses.
I remember it had a floral print reminiscent of the season that I was named after hoping maybe it would remind him I’m part him.
I remember realizing he will never remember.
And now, I sit on a carpet of autumnal leafs as crisp as my tied tongue and as dead as my fears, trying to turn my love for him into more than just a memory.
I think I need to stop writing about my father.
Francie Lynch Nov 2017
There are ten see through bags
Of my fallen leafs by the curb,
Ready for pick-up.
They were so very fetching
Waiting for the wind to pluck them.
Water beads the interior
Like summer's tears.
I hear the stop and start
Of the collection truck coming.
For my ten bags of leafs.
la cazadora Mar 2013
He asked me.
I agreed.
Which way to
the show please?

time was ******,
but it still
comes & comes.
Have I luck?

this one has
nothing to
do with that,
but he asked.

Open? Like
critters in
That ain't right.

glimmers of
"progress" &
light from a
brand new love.

I asked him.
Tonight we...
well, we'll see.
crumbled leafs.
Francie Lynch Nov 2018
Have you met the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man?
He scammed fig leafs in the garden,
And **** cloth in Ottoman.

     outside-in, inside-out; upside-down, right-side up

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can cuss.
He offers snake oil, spins a tale,
So you feel smart, healthy and hale.

     from top to bottom, bottom to top

The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can't stop.
He swrawls with a Sharpie pen.

     right is left, left is wrong

That's the Who-Gee Boo-Gee song.

Consultation for now is free,
No hidden added extra fees:
You buy two, you get three.

     north to south, east to west

The Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man won't rest.

I've heard his feet are cloven;
The eyes are yellow, lips look swollen;
He has *******, wears silk- woven.
He sweats like water to the lowest level;
He's quicker than the slyest devil,
Selling hell, but we hear heaven;
Doing so twenty-four seven.

He photo-shops secret desires,
Twists truth-tellers into liars;
Artful, wily, scheming, subtle,
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee's a hungry jackal.

     today is the day, yesterday's late,
     tomorrow's a place that just won't wait

I met up with the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man,
Peddling apples from my jardain.
Yes, mechanical leaf mover,
create the shrillest sounds known to man.
See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******* place
by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs,
which gradually become moist, squishy leafs,
then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering
thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent,
depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass,
freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational
than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives.

I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying,
they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on.
You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning.

*******, leaf blower. ******* and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent.


You need to let that leafy-******* grow,
covering the shaft of ground.
Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass!
Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure
moving delicately along its surface.
Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least,
the trampled exuberance of plodded soil
and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it.

Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something
which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier?

You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience
of an industrial production complex
which I suppose it always was.
Maybe your attempt at concealment
has been a revelation.

Or maybe I just can't think straight,
because there's been a god-**** leaf blower
circling below my window all morning
and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass
that hasn't grown since September
but has been watered every day
even though it froze last night
and it's almost November.
This poem is about something that was stolen from me.
Joey Dec 2014
Little lady luck
bug crawls up and
stuck, I try to save her
reach for her gently
but too strong and maybe
I should've gone slower
now she is dead
and my heart it has lowered
fix her a nice bed
of dirt
and fill it with leafs
she will sleep long
though her life was so brief
miss her already
though it doesn't matter much
in the long run
but now the popcorn is done
and so back to the movie
pick up and smoke
and now what was I doing?
Lazhar Bouazzi May 2017
The moon says the final word tonight -
Casual-recherché and light;
She, in the absence of the sun,
Leafs through the pages of the night
And shoots a side-look at the pond,
As her desire stretches far beyond
His specular contour.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, Tunisia
Judy Klein Oct 2013
October and flaming leaves of all colors
not only my birthday but so are others
October is so many things this season brings
Columbus day full moon Halloween and many things,
October is fall and all the trees are changing
colored lawns with falling leafs,
left to bare the limbs and trees.
Halloween is the exciting time,
in October of wilting summer vines,
for children there's costooms  and trick or treat,
for the women baking pumpkins pies to eat
For the men there's bow hunting and venison meat.
A new season October brings, temperature drops and frost appears,
October, November, December, then January and it's another year.
LeAne Denison Nov 2014
As i watch the green leafs fall to brown , as they  to their untimely death i realize how short time really is.
    As the couple of old walk hand in hand watching the leafs fall to their death they to shed a tear of remembrance, they too like me realize how short time is.
               As the young couple row their short boat down the Venice waterways adoring their honey moon spot , small leafs blow through her hair he whispers "time is shorter than i realized"
                             As the boy first lays eyes on her ... the leafs she throws in the air and in that moment he remembers he can turn time...
Akira Chinen Oct 2014
Dead leafs in the grass
Candles flicker in the breeze
Dust scatters with each step
Roses had a funeral for the
  Lilies that passed away
While the orchids cried the
  night away
Over the snapdragons that
  never got to play
And blindly we keep going
Walking willingly in chains
Whats the point of breathing
When we march with the feet
  of the dead
Sammie wells Feb 2013
She runs through the woods
panting for breath,
needing to rest

she listens out

dogs barking

they're growing closer
eager for blood.

She hears them in the distance,
she lets out a cry,
  weaving round tree trunks
going under Bush,  
they draw closer,
Her lungs feel crushed.

Her beautiful red coat
is covered in mud,
twigs and leafs,
what ever's under foot,

terror curses through her vains,
she's been chased for hours
feeling drained.

Startled by a blow on a horn
she comes to a Holt,
petrified she urinates
as footsteps fall in behind her

they're here!

Cornered now
her hair stands on end,
tears drop
as death creeps upon her,
She has no time...

The hounds pounce!
And ripping

They do their masters bidding!

Fox hunting a fun sport for all...

Kieran Dec 2018
A tree with no leafs
Reveals the veins of Earth we need

To breathe.
Tear Drop Nov 2015
The leafs crunch and crumble
Under my feet. I wonder
If you will love me
Next November.

The pumpkins are rotted
And I am besotted with you.
I wonder if I will get better
Next November.
Nicole Oct 2013
I had a lot of ideas to write about your soft sweet lips on mine or maybe about the way you'd kiss my forehead instead of french kissing because my mom might be looking down on us from my balcony, but then you told me something that made the green trees in my spiked up forest to start losing their leafs while they decoloured first into orange (when you told me you were confused and I thought: "Well we all are") and then into gray (when you told me we should distance for a while) and suddenly all of the leafs in my spiked up forest fell as fast as I fell for you but this time nobody caught them, they landed (more like crushed) onto the hard land and they broke and they were smashed and they were forgotten. Now I look at myself with some new scars and a new anxiety attack to tell, my therapist about and I wonder if you ever thought about the consecuences, or if you ever thought I'd care as much as I do, Or if you ever thought that maybe I fell for you as rapid as the leafs fell from the trees. I got a glimpse of your arms, but somebody poked your back.
Umi Apr 2018
Words, conveyed by song,
A white witchery of chering emotions, sadness, may anger or grief, flowing alike a river through ones body once it's been sensed, heard,
Overcoming even time and space, giving the gentle look on your face some sweetness which I cannot describe, drawn in the landscape of my heart, a bittersweet melody unfolds, a flower blooming by night,
"Bury the earths ground in your petals, oh widely blossoming flower"
I thought whilst a breeze rushed through the leafs of nearby trees, making a pleasant noise, yet I cannot be in ease, after all I'm inhuman,
As time ticks on, the orchestra of mother nature develops in a stream of lingering sadness, with a magical touch one that embraces me instantly, locking me into a trance, of pleasure yet also great pain,
Was it my means or my purpose, was it my belief in good and evil ?
With no further hesitation, I swallowed all those meaningless questions and move my gaze up to the clouds in the heavens above,
Human or not, I remain without use for this world, what I realised is,
That I am, Nihilistic

~ Umi
"Love, Love is a verb. Love is a doing word.
Fearless on my breath. Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter."
Snipping, mechanical apparatus of air
pushes around, the slightest elements of sound
unknown torment, blowing
leafs strewn through the corridor.
A reverse vacuum, no bag
only the earth
which perpetually maintains
the forceful stream of words
"snip" and "blow;"
they are verbs,
just like "love"
only harsher.

Your decisions don't merely impede the flow of days
relocating things that would like to stay
like crunchy leaves, unacknowledged beneath feet
until cries of ecstasy are heard by neighbors
who have nothing to step on.

Those discarded vestigial coverings would,
with a gentler blowing
have turned tepid, flaccid and freed.
Emerging from a snow covering
thawing and lying there, unashamed of their repose
shriveled and fully reclosed, recumbent.
Protecting from rough, sodden clothing, parts that can’t be hidden any other way--
diverging water toward infrastructure needs more urgent and vital
fallen leafs would not only **** grass, but let flowers grow
flowers of intimacy and exuberance
touching the hands of young women.

The sounds escaping mouths of leaf blowers are a demand--
they are a type of love lacking tenderness
myopic utterances of planning committees
who don’t know love is a doing word,
like snip and blow, an impulse, only gentler.
Ordinances are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of urban planning,
never seeing that leaving things concealed by Fall
is the best way to see Spring
and experience the joy of new awakening.
They should let each leafy-******* grow,
covering our shaft, our ground.
Prevent the pleasure-impeding growth of grass!
And the earth will continue to cry
Tiny sensations of pressure
moving delicately along its surface,
cause soil to writhe with lost control
then erupt with wild flowers and shrubs.
And if not these, then at the very least,
trampled torsion of plodded soil
covered by desperate human debris, collecting upon it
showing what we try to hide:
our wastefulness and discarding of things we really need
ripping off our closeness sheath
and replacing it with dark, green, translucent barriers
of grass
and blowing machines with blades
their maintenance demands.

Our apartment complexes have ambient
tones of industrial malls
when your procedures are taking place
you cut and snip and blow.
Maybe your attempt at concealment
has been a revelation.
But the fearlessness of love
I feel
is something you thought you could snip
and blow.
(This is a revision of "For ****'s sake with the leaf blowers?!?")
A group of people conspired against me at my birth
to remove a very important piece of my body
(circumcision, not castration-- this is purposefully vague in the poem,
as I feel it limits certain possibilities).
This is something I'm just beginning to write about.
Circumcision should be discussed more.

In contemporary society,
I have to deal with the sound of leaf blowers
and lawn mowers-- but I also get the benefit of
listening to Massive Attack's song "Teardrop"
which is like being rocked to sleep gently.
Nickoli Oct 2015
How do you see yourself, are you strong and cunning, or are you quiet and awkward. I see myself as barely hanging on to the branch of hope from the tree of despair. I planted this tree many years ago from the pain and hurt that the world has so generously thrown towards me. This tree consist of the stump where you first started this scary road at age 5, you slowly move up the tree going towards the branches. The first branch signifies the first beating, the leafs on the branch show how many times, over and over again. The next branch is from your first bruise as a child, the leafs over growing the branch because there are just too many to count. The third branches is a little better, your first smile in a long time, this branch has had very few leafs for quite some time. Now lets jump to age 8, your eighth branch that consist of many twigs, where things seem so dim and so fragile that the twigs could snap at any time because things could turn back to bad so fast. Your ninth branch is a very special branch, you see a little light of hope where maybe you think god is there. Age 11, you're up to branch thirteen where you’re still trying to recover from the unfair hurt this is an empty branch, still unable to figure out how to reclaim yourself. Your fourteenth branch is called the branch of fear, now this branch is filled with leafs because you’re just terrified of everything. The fifteenth branch is where you hold all your pain and fears this branch is covered with leaves on twigs, the twigs are your fears and the leaves are the pain you've endured. Or how about the branch of forgiveness where you’re unsure if you should leave a leaf or not. We’re up to age 15 where acceptance is key, this is a branch with a single leaf, as I'm still trying to forgive and leave a second leaf. Right now I’m hanging from the branch where I have hope dangling from very few leaves, but I’m slipping and might not be able to hang on to this branch for much longer. Now we come to the rigorous days of rain that is constantly pouring down, all my emotions hitting every branch.
Paxton Potter Jun 2016
The chemicals in leafs allow for amazing things
Leafs process their own food from something as basic as light
And, with just a few other things, break apart those compunds and produce something entirely new

But beautiful flowers and sugars aren't live's most marvelous miracle
Love and pain and growth and friendship elude
For all the chemicals they boast, dopamine isn't among them
They are alive, but they don't live

While sentience escapes them
Perhaps that isn't the key
Because when you have thoughts and neurons firing
And yet there's a crushing abyss yawning
Somewhere deep inside you
That's when things get scary

Leafs are a simple thing
Not at all scary
You always think there are worse things to be than a leaf
But when you're a leaf
Empty and beautiful
Emotionless and amazing
There may be beautiful things you make
Beautiful crazy wonderful things
Leaves all have one thing in common

Because they all inevitably fall
And people pass them by
Without notice

crunch crunch crunch

And then you're gone
i stopped writing poems bc i was less depressed and since im back we can all guess what that means ahahh yea
Fahredin Shehu Apr 2012
The world will follow your steps
Discovering the mysteries of roses
Emerged from your footsteps
It’ll watch the image where
Your face will nourish
The cost of their glutton
They will see in your forehead
The blood-dots under epidermis
The prints of Sagittarius constellation
Amidst the shores of emerald sparkling leafs
Life-giving leafs
Remained after a serial blasts
They’ll wander
They’ll build the Tabernacle for their progeny
They’ll learn the lesson
The primordial one
They have forgotten through eons
And reunion with the ether-ic double
Somewhere wandering
In the vast space of cosmos
The visible and invisible
The perceptible and imperceptible
They will understand that they are now
Hardly human to rejoice in their small community
Everything will be different
Patrick Sunday Jan 2014
Dark Shadows Lurked Her Flesh,
On A Night Of Cloudless Fog!

Cricket Noises Trailed Their Den,
The Falling Leafs,
On Wind They Trolled!

On A Dreaded Night,
The Clouds Rode,
Far Flying Crows
,Weightless They Plagued The Sky;
Humming  Sweet Sonorous Chimes!
2010 one last remark about Mom she’s never had faith or trust in me she always doubts redirects me when i was little she continuously blamed me accusing me of being sick needing a psychiatrist at age 20 my parents committed me for disciplinary reasons to the Institute of Living a psychiatric hospital in Hartford Connecticut in a locked ward for 4 months Mom and Dad discouraged my aspirations to succeed as a painter/writer arguing the impracticality of my decision they thumbs downed Bayli even today she undermines my efforts to love protect her she scolds me for asking permission from my cousin Chris to allow his son Maynard to fly down here and help me pack then drive up to Chicago so i might get to know Maynard on a road trip she instructs hire professional packers for a $100. they’ll be glad to help you pack Mom has always stood in the way of my choices decisions

1975 Chicago in his parent’s kitchen Mom offers the cannolis are fresh from Kanella’s Bakery or try the chocolate fudge cake it’s absolutely delicious Odysseus replies are you trying to fatten me up or **** me with sweets Mom flirtatiously teases i’ve always been about your ruination Odys

2001 Tucson Mom comes for visit at Thanksgiving in her early 80s walking proud yet painfully on displaced hips she is an inspiration to Odysseus her eyes are clouded with cataracts yet she sees life as an eternal optimist since 1920 the world has changed so drastically yet Mom has learned to accept many things she previously did not tolerate she lives prudently on modest fixed income her fingers are arthritically deformed but she was once a great beauty many men desired her Odysseus asks if it was difficult for Mom to lose the power of her physical desirability he noticed her good looks waning in her 50s she answers she sensed her  attraction going in her 70s she still possesses regal qualities and is quite socially charming she chatters a flurry of familiar names events that keep her busy she travels around by herself Mom’s spirit endures but in reality she drifts further away with each passing season she is delicate and has difficulty remembering she echoes a distant past in the early evening of Thanksgiving Day they sit at table of elegant yet rather staid dining room of Mom’s choosing at Arizona Inn she says it reminds her of the way things used to be she wears tasteful black linen slacks black pumps thin silk knitted black turtleneck with string of pearls gold earrings her blonde hair coiffured in same fluffy sprayed style it has been for 50 years in his heart he knows a part of her wishes her son was more like Tom Steinberg who was a senior when Odysseus was a freshman at River Woods Academy The Steinbergs and Mom are still friendly Tom is a successful investment banker with a wife and child living in Winnetka Mom nervously touches the pearl strand around her neck she says you know Mort Rock’s wife Phyllis died i was such a good friend to her at her funeral they read how she said i was her best friend she left me 10 lousy thousand dollars in her will she’s worth millions it’s eating me up inside i needed that money desperately i can’t stop thinking about it 10 lousy thousand dollars went immediately to pay off loans i’m going to sell my jewelry i don’t know what i can get in the spring i’ll put the apartment up for sale or try to get a reverse mortgage from the bank i never told you kids before i’m not in good shape Odysseus comments i feel terrible i wish so much i could help maybe Phyllis Rock suspected you and her husband maybe all those years you were her best friend she read it as guilt and obligation Mom you need to be more truthful Mom cuts in i never had *** with Mort Rock that man drove me crazy he was nuts for me Mom orders the traditional turkey dinner Odysseus orders the Macadamia nut encrusted Hawaiian fish the waiter brings price fixed appetizers little circles of toasted bread with lightly browned melted cheese tiny triangular cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches roasted watercress nuts wrapped in bacon and little hot dogs pierced with fluffy ended toothpicks Mom begins to gobble as she remarks to Odysseus  why do you want to wear your hair like that? you look like you escaped from the camps Odysseus asks what camps are you referring to Mom? she replies the Concentration Camps! you’re a good-looking man and you still have a full head of hair why do you want to shave it off i don’t understand i think you should move back to Chicago Tucson has done nothing to offer look at you you’re all alone you don’t have any friends come home and be your old self again he answers my old self you don’t get it do you Mom do you remember my commodity trading debacle or my 40th birthday or you and aunt Rita’s ceaseless corrections Mom smugly retorts what do you mean your 40th birthday don’t you get smart with me you should be ashamed of yourself why must you keep bringing up the past you need to let go of the past you go into such details details i don’t remember what does it matter now it’s history we only wanted what we thought was best for you you never listened you were only interested in yourself plenty of other kids get beaten and come through just fine you don’t know what it’s like to be a parent it tears me up inside you talk like you had nothing to do with it i can’t take this abuse from you anymore her misshapen fingers hands begin trembling as her voice emotes you think i don’t realize we made mistakes with you you think we were such monsters i wasn’t a good mother i was a lousy ***** is that what you think answer me what are you a bump on a log Odysseus sits stiff in chair his voice shrinks he just sits there his legs shake under table Mom says your father was quick-tempered we were under so much financial pressure maybe we did send you away too soon if i had to do it again i’d do it differently what does it matter now it’s 50 years ago forget the past what do you want from me what can i do he listens silently wondering if Mom seeks some kind of redemption can her conceit permit it he knows he is ******* her he does not mean to be uncomfortable with his muteness Mom continues you were a difficult child remember all the trouble you caused look at you you’re still a difficult man he questions Mom can you hear yourself you think i’m difficult she answers you think we were such terrible parents you grew up in a house of violence his thumb and forefinger nervously touch his chin as he replies no you were good parents i was a problem child different from you you afforded me a beautiful home and brilliant education i wanted to investigate life and learn and grow you didn’t know what to do with a child like that as much as she tries Mom never has been a comfort for Odysseus or he for her he inadvertently stirs her to worry or snap and she in turn unthinkingly disturbs him nevertheless they love each other the waiter brings out salads Mom ordered iceberg lettuce with thousand island dressing Odysseus chose the spinach salad he takes several bites Mom remarks use your salad fork not your dinner fork you know better than that suddenly it occurs to him Mom is more fragile than he he thinks to himself silently Mom i realize your life is closing in on you your mind drifts and you need to fake and cover-up more than ever do you want me to come home and take care of you i will take care of you then he remembers how miserable they were together during his throat cancer recovery in her 3 bedroom Lake Shore Drive condominium immersed in contemplation he pushes the fork through spinach leafs Mom says sit up in the chair and put a smile on your face she self-consciously peeks around the room having lost his appetite Odysseus looks down at napkin on his lap glances at half-eaten salad bowl he gazes up at Mom the waiter arrives making a pained smile he clears the salads then serves the entrees after the waiter departs Mom speaks Odys look at me when i’m talking to you i think about a lot of things i should have done after the fact sometimes even years later Max and i made a lot of incorrect choices when it came to you he cuts in Mom you don’t have to say anymore i love you always have loved you and know you love me too Mom says you know how much i appreciate your paintings you’ve made my life richer i‘ve always been supportive of you in fact i’m your biggest fan right Odys right? thank you Mom i’m grateful Mom says i’ve spoken with psychiatrists and they all tell me the same answer tell your son to forget it why must you dwell in the past what did we do so dreadfully wrong i don’t understand you’re a hard case i wish i could get through to you i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us you’ll sleep better he questions you know about my insomnia restless sleep nightmares Mom says i can imagine Odysseus’s eyes begin to water Mom i love you i wouldn’t be who i am without you Mom says don’t get so emotional you sound weak take it from me you must be strong in life learn discipline and willpower i love you too son Odysseus wonders if maybe he agitates Mom because he is a constant liability lacking fiscal self-reliance deep down Mom is a giggling gossiping playful girl spoiled by her father she never wanted to grow up and be burdened with the tasks of parenthood what woman of rare beauty and charm would want to give up her privilege and freedom for some kid especially a *******-up kid maybe deep down Mom resents Odysseus he stares down at the Macadamia nut encrusted Hawaiian fish and silently prays he will be released from his life all his stupid sins regrets self-pity self-hatred his vain inconsequential existence

i move organize empty shelves cabinets drawers closets edit wrap tape pack wonder if moving back to Chicago is one more mistake heaped on top of a 1000 mistakes a 1,000,000 mistakes is going home to help Mom my biggest mistake ever i simply know i must try to protect my Mom

— The End —