L B Aug 3
Bent
Near to breaking
by her burden
of fruit, swollen with seed
In that thrashing by wind
Bearing down on the sun
in her labor—
of  Need
to bear
the pain
to bring
her yield
to his hands—
her harvest
of warm juicy softness


Gone—
the upright
reach of untouchable spring
When stems, stern and smooth
wore a lace-beaded bodice of bloom
of coral chiffon
First leaves
a scarf
with a fringe of lime green
wrapping her gifted and lean
to the buzzing

She was lighter than dew
to the amateur insects
smeared with her

Her only accessory--
a robin
They had left
as evidence
they had ravaged
its song


Now broken and leaking
more damage endured  
Ripe fruit in rough hands
He leans against limbs
by his weight sternly pressed  
so suffused in the fragrance
of peach intoxicants
which he will have--
with ever-deeper shove
of his seed
He is lost to his lust
He is forcing his need
to sink his steak
into another year's beauty

asserting his claim over and over again
of that lost and ancient bounty
Many edits 8-16-18.
jonni inferno Jul 28
i met her    
in a waking dream    
as i walked beside    
the sylvar stream    
whose chattering laughter    
shifted suddenly    
into a sylvar pool    
of enchanted silence    
a mirrored glaze    
in muted    
misty
dawning rays    
    
her cascading mane    
a crimson flare    
sea-green eyes    
alluring stare    
my heart stopped    
to see her there    
reposed    
'pon a verdant    
garden lee    
beside    
the misting sylvar mere    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
dahlia lips    
whispering desire    
vermilion plunder    
splayed    
spellbound    
by her charms    
heart pounding    
thundering    
captured    
i stay    
an' wi' faire    
lithesome beauty    
lay    
'pon a lush    
an' vibrant field    
beside    
the misting sylvar mere    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
we lay there    
lost in time    
locked    
in the silence    
of kindred minds    
an' i knew her name    
tho she spoke it not    
sipped i then
the misty    
morning dew    
from precious lips    
that from me drew    
all that i    
ever thought    
or felt    
or knew    
'pon the grasses    
lush and green    
beside    
the softly glowing mere    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
soft sings    
the whippoorwill    
the meadowlark    
an' mourning dove    
their voices    
weaving spells    
for lover's    
yearning hearts    
in the meadow    
by the way    
where my love an' i    
do lay    
entwined  
'pon the gleaming sylvan shore    
beside    
the shining crystal lake    
'neath
the weeping willow trees    
    
alas    
the dawning days    
were passing    
when came malevolence    
within a thund'ring tempest    
lightnings flashed
in ragged gashes
'cross the heaven's    
stygian passes
an' from those    
gnawing caverns
spewed
a raging
howling
demon's brood
an' down flew they
by the sylvar stream
where my love
and i
entranced
did lay
beside
the mystic sylvar lake
'neath
the weeping willow trees
    
then from my arms    
vile creatures tore    
my lifesong    
my heart's blood    
my one    
and only love
her
scintillating form    
they ripped    
her silent
piercing cries    
bleeding    
thru my soul

an' took her they  
far from this    
battered    
desert shore    
as her soundless    
painful    
chorus fades    
an' leaves me    
here alone    
to lay    
'pon these shifting    
lifeless sands    
beside    
this sylvar lake of tears    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
the meadowlark    
her spellsong sings    
thru ebon winter's    
weathering    
the silver stream    
her laughter froze    
this heart    
once fire    
a souless stone    
    
so now this raven    
winged    
doth fly
to scour the bruised    
an' shadowed skies    
to find my dove    
an' bring her home    
to lay
'pon these frozen brittle stones
beside
the darkened sylvar tarn
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
thru timeless age    
an' dangerous realms    
i followed    
her silent    
morbid    
ravenings    
as her grisly    
mewling pleas    
hollowed out my soul    
'til at last    
i found her    
chained an' bound    
lost    
deep within    
peculiar planes    
an' baneful realms    
far from    
the laughing sylvar stream    
far from    
the weeping willow trees    
    
her lament    
of bitter tears    
an' fear    
sliced    
thru my defenses    
a doomed    
pernicious heart    
she was    
wandering    
thru deepest depths    
where madness reigns    
all hope destroyed    
hell's minions    
reveled
unconstrained    
    
my dove    
called i    
my love    
'tis i    
once more    
thrice more  
time  
and time again    
till finally    
she hearkened    
to my voice    
    
true love    
recall us    
you and i    
dancing    
thru ageless realms    
consider us    
twirling    
under heaven's wings    

she
spinning
at my fingertips
an' i  
drew her then    
breathless    
into my arms    
ambrosia lips    
her sweet alms    
from her dark pain    
i did drink    
of her    
malignant sorrow    
i did partake  
my questing    
thirsting hunger    
willingly  
did i sate  
gathering all    
her shattered pieces    
from those altered    
blighted    
reaches
    
chains    
now broken    
i carried her
'pon wings    
of true love's    
sylvar light    
far from    
these darksworn legions    
into    
the dawning night's    
farthest regions    
    
an' there    
close by    
the laughing    
whispering    
sylvar stream    
lay her gently    
'pon the verdant  
flowing shore    
beside our gleaming  
slyvar mere    
'neath    
our weeping willow trees    
    
under glimmering    
starlit heavens    
sing    
the whippoorwill    
the meadowlark    
an' mourning dove    
whose soulful songs    
compose    
for yearning lovers    
charms of hope    
where pools    
the laughing    
sylvar stream    
whose mirrored gaze    
draws us deep within    
celestial    
starlit    
wanderings    
  
as the wind    
whispering
sighs    
thru our hearts  
as we lay entwined    
'pon a verdant garden lee    
beside  
our misting sylvar mere    
'neath  
our silent    
weeping  
willow trees    
      
p j upchurch
Are you the one?
Whose words can soothe my soul;
the one with the heart of gold.

Are you the one?
The restless fowl in the night sky;
scoring over the clouds up high.

Are you the one?
Who can bring me back to life;
cause I am dead of being alive.

Are you the one?
Will you set me free?
Or, will you bind me to a tree?

Are you the one?
Whom I have been seeking all my life;
Teach me, teach me how it feels to be alive.








Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Okay, publishing a poem after a very long time. I write one everyday, but I rarely publish them. Why? Because most of my poems are way too dark. On the contrary, this one is rather simple and self-explanatory for everyone. Enjoy!
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Ugh!
they cut
half my tree down
the one closest to me
where the birds made their nest
which became my shelter too
screened and swaddled by boughs
so i'm mourning a myrtle today
as Jonah once grieved for a vine
appointed by God to grow up
and ordered by Him to
go to remind
us there are
things more
important
than plants
like poetry
and people
and maybe
its one of those
i'm really missing anyway
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
A tree grown off the seed,
everyone can see
and sees the seed
when none see the tree.

The seed, a dead end,
no pattern to see.
Punting in a zero pool,
what then comes to be.
The one is now the honey
spring for every bee!
Francie Lynch May 19
When compared to the average life span
Of the average human, on one side,
Dogs come up short of us; tall ones, even shorter.
And trees, especially tall ones, live longer. On the average.
How many times, in an average day,
Do I come between such?
And I've yet to get pissed on. Pissed off is another poem.
AS Jun 27
I can hear it within the voices,
unable to feel proud for those who try.
On the other side of the fence,
they celebrate and dance in glee.
The reason I originally was afraid to try,
as the way you twist to those who take risks.
Not passing at the top,
a failure you rather of not known.
All I hear is the shameful,
fake tone.
Maybe if you gave me your belief,
stopped covertly belittling in the way you speak.
Maybe I wouldn't be afraid to fail,
trying,
learning and growing to the best I can be.
But within your actions,
you create disbelief and anxiety.
Not emitting the support I seek or that this is just another stepping stone to achieve.
The other side of the tree truly believes,
brought to tears by how I've surpassed my troublesome past.
Their voices filled with triumphant pride and joy,
of the way I fought and tried.
Not allowing me to slip by,
seeing the opportunity and the drive inside.
These people make me happy to be alive.
Judgemental side please abandon me or at least fully dettach.
For you have poisoned my roots too long,
which has brought me to twenty seven to find where I belong.
Burnt my leaves in your disgusting pursuits.
Dented my bark,
covering my childhood in upheaval and traumatic marks.
Making me wilt for years,
with the guilt and the monster you let consume the water supply.
Even though my trunk is chipped, with
distance I've found the sun nutritional to my insides.
Growing strong each day,
without the fear of strain or being drained.
Finally I am taking bloom,
no longer buried by the family filled of doom.


© 2018
Abigail Sheard
Below is a link to how I moved to thriving, instead of trying to survive each day:

https://www.reddit.com/r/ThrivingNarcAbuse/comments/8ydqko/the_journey_to_thriving_an_honest_and_hopeful/
Next page