"toadstool" poems
I am but a single
dry dead leaf
laying beneath an endless willow tree
around the waters bend
close to the toadstool pow-wows
only inhabited by the faeries.
& the moon- she still shine,
captured but by a sphere, yet so free
her light may breathe
a chilling, frigid touch
between the memories you
have buried so deep.
So please do not fret your wondrous mind
over all of your insecurities,
though she may shine with a chilling reminder
I promise that in your eyes
a beautiful soul
is all she sees.
As my mind races I feel
I am unable to describe
the exact emotion you
have gently
injected into my mind.
My eyelids grow heavy
my minds afloat to space
all that is left in my world as I know it,
is the perfection on your face
You see darling,
I am a hija de la luna;
the stars will align with
Castor & Pollux
Cancer, Aphrodite, & Fortuna.
They greet me as old friends,
join me in my nights of fantasy.
tell me darling what do these strange constellations mean?
Oh how I pity thy cataracts
eyes white & glassy
but I promise the warmth will melt your frozen gaze
& in time, you will see.
The horizon shifts as I do to you,
how long do you wish to be at sea?
Alas, you know my poison
doubt seeps into my skin
like an 80 patch.
Through thick & thin,
even on the sorest of feet
I will skip merrily along your path.
Round my head I gaze,
The sky has been stained
with fuchsia & clementine
among the blues.
tell me again, how may I find your presence within the hues?
Wrap yourself within my blanket
of ease & security.
Trust me with your life or not,
for I want to be
there, when you most
need me
You cannot help
you are a broken bird
I cannot deny my psyche as it worries
*does a dove not care about her nest back home
when she soars above
the sea?*
Next to the beating arrhythmia
you try hold dear ‘twixt your ribs
my favourite poem of yours has changed
where I will weave a small nest
dream of your lips
& the sound of rain.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
What moral magistrate
Monster of mediocrity
Makes a model citizen of me
Even if I don’t want to be
All upright and uptight
Humorless jackboot
Goose stepping toadstool
The fascist conservative fool
Who pedals misinformation
Counting on fear and stupidity
To turn strangers into tools
Yep that one eyed sheep
In the blind herd
Who wants to tell me
What I should or shouldn’t do
Why bother
With that proctor
Of indignity
Who counsels
The talented
To remain dormant
In their humility
Doctor of docility
Prescribing conformity
Storming the cities
Bleeding us of our individuality
To make more metal cogs
For the culture machine
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
A toadstool comes up in a night,--
Learn the lesson, little folk:--
An oak grows on a hundred years,
But then it is an oak.
3.1k
He was known as the local Mycophagist
In the dales, the woods and the hills,
What happened was sad, for he wasn’t so bad
Just a tad underdone, Toby Gills,
They say that the cord was around his neck,
He was born with a carroty mop,
And a pale white head, he was almost dead
When the doctor had called out ‘Stop!’
They cut the cord and they let him breathe,
The damage was already done,
The blood had been stopped to his carroty top
So they said that he’d always be dumb.
But he found a niche where the fungi creeps
And went out collecting the spore,
In a year or two he knew more than you
And the college Professor next door.
He studied his mushrooms with loving intent,
He knew about hen of the woods,
He knew about bracket and shaggy manes, magic
And paddy straw, they were the goods;
He fostered his lobster and hedgehog and oyster
And coral fungi and stinkhorns,
But didn’t discern between fly agarics
And toadstools that grew in the lawn.
He grew his spore in a deep, dark cellar
And sold to the folk who came by,
And never would judge between Widow Weller
And the ordinary witches of Rye,
He’d sell death caps, and pigskin puffballs
Not thinking to question them why,
Or who would be eating his laughing Jim’s
And whether they knew they would die.
The air was thick and the air was damp
And he fell in the dark one day,
Scattering toadstools into the air
And their spores had floated away,
He breathed the spores right into his lungs
For he hadn’t been wearing a mask,
But ****** them in right over his tongue
And they came to his lungs, at last.
I happened to see him out in the street
He was finding it hard to breathe,
He could only take a couple of steps
Then sit on the kerb, to heave,
I tried to help but he waved me away
And his eyes were yellow and cruel,
Then I saw what he’d thrown up on the kerb
Some yellow and red toadstools.
The man was a walking toadstool spore
They were popping up out of his hair,
Pushing their way though his carroty top
In a bid to get to the air,
And his skin was blotched like a puffball, he
Looked up at me, and he cried,
As a giant toadstool grew from his throat
And he lay on his side, and died.
David Lewis Paget
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
Through the sunlit valley they dance and sing
smiling with constant purity in the arms of spring
in the dales, new born lambs are bleating
daffodils push up to the sun, kindly beating
The buttercup pixies start to find worm holes
to pop there little seeds in threes into
then by night and day they watch the seedlings grow
underneath the shelter of a nearby toadstool
Then at six in the morning
when most folks are yawning
they gather their red hats as a team
and skip to the nearby crystal stream
Then with hats in hand scoop up the water
no more then just over a quarter
then bound back to water their seedlings
sweetly fastidious and tending with feeling
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
The Toadstool Goblins are at it again
soon as the sun goes in and it starts to rain
they have eaten all my cabbages
I think they are going for my sprouts
I think I may set a few beer pits up
they can't get enough of the stuff
they drink their fill, then can't stand up
then in they plop and drown in the swill
Well off I must go with macintosh on
down to the store for some beers
sink the traps for the blighter's
then when drunk they fall in
I will hold my can up and say cheers
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
From the Azul sky a diving sparkling speck,
An unmatched beautiful creature without circumspect,
The golden leaves of spring like soldiers on parade,
Dip and make way for this fair winged maid.
I have so much longed to be first bite of this season,
To be touched and blossomed to perfection by your reason,
I grow juicy, soft and ripen as I fall for you.
Tumbling into your soft Cashmere hands on cue.
Salivating, I’m tasty, savour me between your teeth,
Sink deep in without remorse, how delectably indiscrete!
Say my name with a smile it’s so safe in your mouth.
I’m tingling the roof of your brain with my flavours coming out.
Take me away! as we fly, I’m cast about like an enchanted spell,
Moistening your soft syrupy lips of caramel.
I’m drained to sustain the iridescent colours of your gilded wings,
Moved by the high passionate notes as you sing.
Your smooth, probing tongue, my flesh diabetically sweet,
Leaving streaks of sienna nectar on fates smeared cheeks,
Wipe away before staining fabric from our black and white lives.
They keep returning, stubborn like long goodbyes.
Surprise! New emotions enveloping, hypnotic like Night Jasmine,
Mimicking a rainwater spout so bubbly, escaping, and exciting!
Your caught hopeless as a fish fly rod with a glass eyed trout
Choking while love swoops silent from heaven to pluck it out.
That’s when you look at my seed and you can tell.
I’m good for your ego but as bad as a toadstool’s spell.
So I’m placed in the first mound of mud you come across,
Where you replant me sprinkled with fairy dust.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
The fungi has started to grow again,
coming from inside, rotting within.
My eyes scan the room from left to right,
there's nothing interesting,
anywhere found in sight.
I remove myself to explore and play,
into the forest I go, around midday.
As I wander and wonder,
my thoughts twist around me, causing a fluster.
All of this just because of,
some guy.
It's not your normal fungi,
it's the kind that if you touch it,
it will rot you from your delicate finger tips
to the very light that is your soul.
The kind of fungi to ruin your night.
So as I lie here, accepting my fate,
that evil demon comes creeping,
to smile in my face.
I'm all too weak to continue on,
finally letting go of myself, collapsing like a fawn.
My skeletal remains,
shimmer in the sun-
reflecting light like the barrel of a gun.
It's hard not to notice that toadstool right there,
growing from what would be my hair.
The fungi still loves to decay,
what was once me
One,
Very
Cold
October
Day.
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 5:04 PM UTC
*Amidst a sea of friends sat she
upon a toadstool smiling with glee
all beings in the forest sang of life
no entity in the wood knowing strife
The little fairy named Jheira
sang melodically to the swaying flora
dancing atop the golden mushroom
ne'er a negative thought they assume
I wish to join them in the glen
share the happiness from within
sing with the fairies to the wood
basking in all in life that is good*
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC
A toadstool is swelling
inside my limbic system.
Spores sweat amongst tissue cavities,
dining out on grey matter,
until they force me
to stay in bed through the day.
What a thing it would be.
Depression as a fungus.
A mildewed mind as damp sets in,
the trumpet player
with athletes foot,
casting out the air-borne blues.
Misfortunes follow one another
along straits of fate,
as if sadness were a colony itself.
I want to take a pill
to **** the mushroom
that plumes over my head.
You can only diagnose
through words and symbols,
only treat once you set down your pen
and hold the hand
of a patient lover,
of the savant drinking at the bar.
For now I will let air in
through the open window,
watch the dreamcatcher sway
and hang like a tarantula
over the stars and crescents,
spilling out over my bed.
When I close my eyes
I hear the ocean in distant traffic,
sounding as waves when rolling by the door.
I will drown in seawater
and hallucinate a scene
of happiness.
Of a place for a poet's retreat.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
The toadstool stood, a cloud of vice
Blown far by evil’s sway
Above ahead, the azure skies
Were taken o’er by gray
Cloud loomed o’er, each a savage brute
Blown off by winds, insane
The ugly toadstool calmly stood
And welcomed silver rain
Which danced with grace, silently fell
On little, soundless toes
The toadstool, once a hag from hell
Became a maiden rose
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Before you leave the woods today, something you may have missed;
A whispered mystery old as time hovers in the mist.
Things you've never seen before are moving all about
'Pon entrance of this magic realm you never can get out.
Forced to live amongst the toadstool and the fawn
Hypnotized to see the light of God and not the dawn.
Chilly, naked flesh; ivory as the moon.
The old God, Pan, who tromps about, certain your heart will swoon.
Ecstatic, numb, you crumple down. He see's your knees give out...
The nymphs cavort around you there
Giggle and **** your feeble form.
The wise old trees watch patiently
as the landscape does transform.
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 1:11 PM UTC
when your limbs turn to night and bark, sticks against your feet.
the centipede kingdom embraces you to its breast,
a lost patch of moss who found its way back, cleansed of lies
plunge into the quiet abyss of mire and toadstool,
leave humanity behind at the edge of the woods
roots growing through the ground and into your body
forest, take me home.
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Father demolished in a collision
Dark feelings brew in the young man’s soft murmuring heart
Pain in the eyes of his victims
Fear in the spine of his weakened targets
Hate in the frozen debt of winter
Angry and tortured night and day
Suffering screams, he mutilates them
Violence brought to a family on vacation
Chaos caused by confusion
Arrogant resentful greed
Father why?
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
Happily she flounces
and bounces
on the ground in
her lemongrass-hued
dress of whatnots
Way back when
The worries of the world
Were nonexistent
She ruled the forests
The toadstool wonders
She never thinks
of sadness or misery as
she performs her silhouetted
pirouette
for the birds
And as she flies
Above the trees she thinks
to herself
It will be like this
forever
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
gotta toadstool choke-hold
slipping again
and a sharp dull ache
where my mind caved in
and a pound of flesh
that itches and
spins
where the devil
cuts
new teeth
to eat
me
with.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
‘Tis autumn
And the blood of God
Pools in root that sleeps
Amidst worm and toadstool
Vain woman
Autumn swirls her air
Leaf plucked from trees
Of Saint Anthony’s Fire
And they scream from the bleachers
Every first down
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 9:07 AM UTC
The Crows Caw,
Its A Close Call,
Hidden In A Ring Of Toadstool,
Had To Run Before The Roads Fall,
Against The Fey We Fare Small.
Gutted The Planet,
The Unseelie Planned It,
Flames Of War (.)
The Reptiles They Fanned It,
The Truth Is Much More (.)
But Who Here Is Candid.
Volcanic Eruption & Spiritual Disruption,
Cosmic Consumption & Intelligent Destruction.
The Fey With Their Way
Make The Earths Axis Sway,
The Night Takes The Day
While We Humans Pray.
The Crows They All Caw,
Mourning Shrouds All Fall,
Warning Clouds Will Not Stall,
But I'm Safe With The Toadstool.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 4:47 AM UTC
There is a Fairy at the bottom of the garden,
She lives in the third mushroom down.
She doesn't own much, between you and me
but she has the biggest fungi in town.
She is a lucky Fairy but doesn't know it.
I dare say she has more than most.
She has a large stalk to hang her smalls on
Which is a good deal bigger than a post.
Thinking about it I ought to charge her rent
She says there is not "mushroom" to spread.
But a Fairy has such high demands
I will have to come up with another plan instead.
She told me now she wants to go to a toadstool
Whill is far too small for her box of tricks.
She has her eye on my place but that
is just too big and it is made of bricks.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
I came down twice today dancing on the edge of a sun ray smiling higher and wider than the sky upon a sunday. I was warm like summer sun as I ran streaming through the night high upon a horse they called him piercing light.
We danced along the winding Trail searching for the sea.
Bounding through the Morning Light tasting the salty Breeze.
I met a strange old friend down there along the sandy beach wandering through the morning surf staring at his feet.
He invited me to his home a beautiful beach abode.
Offered me a Drink of wine and a toadstool that he'd grown.
I ate the cap took a drink followed him on down.
He stole my face and sung a song there was laughing all around.
He pulled his guitar strummed along said it was the solution.
grew a grin upon his face and named it revolution.
He belted on about a day when we could find that space a little bit of Ambience to call my sweet relief.
He claimed that he knew a way to live a life in peace.
Pull the plug and disconnect no relying on the Beast.
We must sail away from here from the shores we know take a trip on past the waves beyond the ebb and flow.
Danger dancing on the Bow we mustn't turn the ship impale the evil through the heart as fire burns with left.
These ****** old evil doers will be the death of us all.
If we don't take a stand and fight until they fall.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 11:32 PM UTC
found the star, guys. found the
neon yarn, the tall me tell tails.
I hope I didn’t embarrass you
at dinner, when I got on the counter
and started wiggling around
like bacteria. I’m sorry but I
was bleeding for your attention.
*the coolest place I’ve had a bandage;
kissing the inner eye.*
found the stuff, guys. my crush’s name
is bell jar toadstool. I think I love him…
that’s a tangent.
a tangerine ant in the fear mouth.
but this is not a love poem, I swear.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
I hear you coming with every crack of the knees
The air of your reproach stifles my breathing
And still, you are ten years past
Your ghostly presence has not abated
For I am small and inconsequential in your memorial
A toadstool among the Sequoias
I see an incomplete light through the canopy
In this dim and musty forest
Where fern and Lady Slipper does not comfort
This will be my shame
Content and complacent with this situation
Afraid to cast off his manifestations
This will be my downfall
Death isn't the end
Memories doth prevail
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
.
*Here on the night before yesterday’s dream
Twilight composers retreat
Laughing at whispers a’ flow on the stream
Happily taking a seat
Practicing meadowlark lyrics to sing
Strumming a toadstool in tune
Awaiting the light that the fireflies bring
Blinking a wink at the moon
Tulips with tambourines gather around
Spider web chandeliers glow
Shade tree sonatas, a wonderful sound
Echoing up from below
Pine cone recitals and blueberry sighs
Star dust ovations in rhyme
Choruses sung beneath velveteen skies
Harmonic three quarter time
Orchestral canopies glisten above
Melodic rainbows the view
Performing songs written solely of love
Played on this evening for you*
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
I’d come back home from an early shift
When I wasn’t expected - True!
But the house on the hill was cold and still
So I went off, looking for you.
I couldn’t find you at your parents place,
They said they hadn’t a clue,
Your brother said he’d not seen your face
Since the day we spent at the zoo.
It wasn’t like you to disappear,
You might have left me a note,
It wasn’t until I came back home
That I found one, stuffed in my coat.
‘I’ve gone to the place that dreamers go
When the world is getting them down,
Gone where a dreamer’s dreams would seem
To be better, next time around.’
My heart flipped once and it almost stopped,
I’d thought we were doing well,
We’d been together for seven years
I was truly caught in your spell.
I’d thought that your air of discontent
Was a phase, but I couldn’t see,
You left on the first full day of Lent
So you were giving up me!
I wandered around our empty house
For days, in the throes of grief,
I felt my heart had been torn apart,
Then I thought of my cousin, Keith.
He’d lodged with us for a month or so
And I’d seen the spark in his eyes,
But barely noticed the answering glow
Of your own, so now - Surprise!
I found a bundle of letters then
In the back of your bedside drawer,
From him to you and from you to him,
I’d never looked there before.
They spilled their passion on every page
Like a toadstool, spreading its spore,
His love was greater than mine, he said,
He’d love you forevermore.
And you said terrible things of me
That I’d treated you with neglect,
That I’d taken your love for granted, and
Was an albatross round your neck.
I couldn’t believe the things I read
From the one that I’d loved to death,
But now, I knew what you really said
With every disloyal breath.
You’d slept with him while I went to work,
He’d never worked in his life,
But like a Judas he’d worked his will
On you, a deceitful wife.
My stomach turned and I felt quite sick,
For days, it tumbled and churned,
The pain in my heart was like a brick
Til the day that my anger burned.
* * * * * * *
A month went by and she came again
To knock at our own front door,
‘I’ve made an awful mistake,’ she said
As her tears ran down on the floor.
‘I’ll do whatever it takes,’ she said,
‘To make the pain go away.’
My eyes were sad but my heart was glad
As I said what I had to say.
‘I’ve gone to the place that dreamers go
When the world is getting them down,
Gone where a dreamer’s dreams would seem
To be better, next time around.
I haven’t a place in my life for you
Since you left with such little grace,’
Then I shook my head, for my love was dead
And I slammed the door in her face.
David Lewis Paget
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC