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brooke Dec 2012
I wish I were a mountain--
forced up into something
great, first greeting to the
snow, met the air once or
twice...the grass feels a bit
entranced by my presence
should I grow some more?
(c) Brooke Otto
A W Bullen Aug 2016
Toss these brackened antlers
to a Babylon of early crows
where slim repels of cirrus
lace the marches of Orion.
I wore you as an amulet
hard pressed upon my pestle arm
as charms of montane lunar drift
rebelled about your peacock gaze.

There is balsam on the Eastern run
in piquant writs of clementine ,
where jubilees of Persian mote
reveille in the waiting still.
As hieroglyphs of scrying palm
lay wraith about the cindered pane
you harried in ancestral bell..

The name of some forgotten God.
Connor Apr 2015
Driving off on the side roads precarious and dense
with firs holy beneath the florid specter of roseate afternoon,
purified with rainfall on the montane bladed rocks
holding together cliff face edges of highways.
I'm present with my black coffee humming while
folk plays on the radio and my sweater from the
consignment shop is still captured in spellbinding redolence
from the girl of my dreams. Nearby, a hidden path boasts a cliff commanding flowing pacific waters pronounced with gold
among mountains obscured in shadow.
Companions cross the valleys reciting sutras and tracing fingers through this blessed land, treasuring the trees, firesmoke ascending from beyond assembling woods thick and overgrown.
Doe and rabbit bounding from rocky terraces alert and surviving instinctively while riverside cabin homes hide a while yet from the long driveways and cozy mailboxes hand-painted or made of wind-bent tin cans.  
I'm flourishing slowly and with periodical decay in this garden growing while I grow and life is beauty and spasm devils as am I, this I know.

We're matches momentarily lit in the weary hands of stars
to guide them in the darkness.
My hair will gray from death we jest
and I will live before I rest.
" Drawn was I to the woods,
   As the breeze blew out thee.
   Into the woods, I see
   A spirit that yearns for glee. "

" So did the woods whisper once,
  It's misery, pain and hindrance.
  As it beats it's heart to brew life.
  It sheds no blood to the man's knife. "

" I once crossed the brambles that lay,
  Into the woods as I walk my way.
The lush green meadow, the tall woodlands,
The sweet music, the melancholic aura of grand. "

" How can one be so cruel?
  To infuse such pain, to slice the knife!
  A thousand heartbeats of woodlands deprived,
  Yet not even one to thrive and survive."

" The world's most dangerous animal needs,
  Timber, furniture, houses, wants and plain sheets.
  They say that 'Necessity is the mother of Invention',
  But sadly, greed overcomes human intention. "

" Drawn was I to the woods,
  To the aura, breeze, and serenity.
  But the brambles, the woodlands and the lush green life,
  Slashed, sliced, burnt, and none survived."

" Yet the green lush spirit of the woods
   Still whisper to me.
  It longs for growth and to beat once more,
  The life and light it brewed once galore. "

" I try to introspect and reminisce,
  The thoughts, reasons and visuals.
  Man can be more humane,
  Spare the spirit, the woods and the montane. "
Nature is an integral part of man's life and the whole Earth survives and breathes because of it, yet our actions and activities whether industrial, agricultural or domestic, it has hindered and affected the overall functioning of nature since human beings all the more are slipping away towards coexisting with nature.
This poem talks about our forest, nature and the greenery around us and how attached someone can be to these, but even now and again, trees are being felt down with none planted. It hurts to see such beautiful and lush forests and hills slowly becoming bare lands.
This poem amplifies the voice and values that nature tries to whisper and signal or remind us.
We're not too late to protect nature, it begins once we start introspecting our selves and our surroundings.

— The End —