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Dante Rocío Sep 2020
And now a change of scenery;
the night has truly fallen
now
and departing from
our Baltic Galway
“into the woods”
we can greet the callings
of some shenanigans
luring and
lurking there
to plant or extract ideas
and trespassings
of
our
flickerings.
Have a waiting room
in car rides,
help yourself

And earlier,
barefoot through
sand poured with pine needles
and we walk
nevertheless.
Bare feet open
the way to puddles
of warm diamonds
called sky water
now with pungent flowers
hitting senses like ambrosia,
the way to high embracing
of the trees whilst climbing,
to mud healing,
to impassive conquering
of any earth we
encounter,
to comprehension,
and to the respect
of all that came
and left through
these lands
in the span
of
all
the history.

Stronger and stronger,
closest to the truest
an affection and
calling
belonging
from the trees.
As such I cup one all,
I never want to let go,
there comes a commotion,
like entering the hidden crowd
from which you’ve always known
you truly come from,
like creatures
of a forest looking
in the silence too deep
at a village of
another world.
At first I thought from scientists
that plants don’t like being
touched,
yet as someone
quite new told me:
“Would you
be able to
find such
comprehension, love
and moving
appurtenance if they
didn’t feel exactly
the same towards
You?

Recent forest
walks when I
free my spirit too to
let it approach me
make me feel that
such great intimate
pride of an archer
or
vagabond
bound with it all in
their own story
and perception, and
even a half an hour walk
makes itself a wonder of
a few pages of a
Robin-Hood-like
book
in my presence
walking.

Also, the same
in river’s sole fine
line of freeze,
who holds dear
the mute,
those
who feign not
appurtenance
of this
world.

Let us stop,
we have arrived
already at our shack
and there’s our safe
space that
holds a place
for us to sleep
away.

Another
unconscious lesson
in God’s library,

another
Sun
to
come.
What’s over a garden wall,
Lighting a torch towards the known
Instead of truer unknown,
Magic and Home are already there
From a time before time.

I have been there.
Then.
It’s just the same encounter well,
Just that it is in flesh.
Shagun Aug 2020
The mist clouded my sight
The dress I wore was white
I was lost I could tell
So, I followed the **** of the tower bell
The wind swooshed past my face
It was a mystifying maze
I was cold
All I had was the warmth of
your love                          
My hair was damp
You switched on the table
lamp
The branches creaked
Under my feet.
At some distance the water cascaded
The trees in front of me faded
The insects were buzzing
The paper on your nightstand were rustling
The woods whispered
The birds no longer chirped
I am still looking for peace.
Our photo frame on the mantelpiece.
You burned it down
I tripped on the frozen ground.
I knew I was losing you
I could no longer feel you.
The scratches on my elbow and knees
The frost on the leaves.
I feel like I’ve heard and seen this before
I cannot take it anymore.
These sounds are noise to my ears.
All I see are my fears.
They screamed at me monstrously
I can’t handle this cacophony.
This poem is a depiction of my life created in an imaginary setting of a forest. I have lost my way. And there are scary sounds that surround me. The only thing that keeps me moving forward is the warmth of my lover's love. However, things get bad for me when my lover destroys picture of us and that is when I can no longer feel that love. And I stumble on my path and fall hard onto the ground. My inner demons disguised as the woods overpower me and I can not take it anymore.
Lane O Aug 2020
Cicadas singing
Crescendo in the dark wood
Summer's droning chorus
Shevek Appleyard Aug 2020
A childhood of blackberry stained fingers and butterfly kisses
That turned into cigarette scented Sundays
Mondays alarm is hardly the birth of a phoenix
Everything is so loud
So you make playlists to block the days out
Talk to therapists so your voice drowns the sounds
Of hearts beating to the symmetry of structure
Evenings spent drifting through conspiracies
That put your mind in and out of ease

I have a shortcut, I can show you

Into a world of leaves
Your hair will tangle with the trees
The rain will batter you
Wet silk and scars
Mark promises on your legs
But smoky seasoned scrambled eggs
And a woodpecker at a pine
Is now your divine alarm clock
It will curve your mood
Become your instinct
You’ll be able to tell
When thorns become soft
You dress to un-impress
Ragged ankles of an empress
Enter your utopia

On carpets of brambles
To be danced above
A crumpled tent hosts
Seven sweet sisters
Fresh from the flames
Soul mates are on auction
Interviewed by ghosts
Who decide your wedding gown
You are never unqualified
Don’t let the cold get you down
Don’t let the past nourish you
The way you forget to let the sun do
Hidden in the woods
Branches block the dreams out
Climb to where the schemes rhyme
Disregard your sodden socks
The needles of a helpless hairbrush
Accept the untameable
As you stumble, wild
Your soles bare
You know your worth
Your place upon the earth
You curl up in the dirt
But there’s a nice view
And it’s a green that patterns the cosmos
Subsides the madman’s blood lust
It’s the eyes of your mother
And the scent of an absent lover
Let it cushion you

At least until Monday
Let me take you to my happy place
Lilith Aug 2020
There is freedom in the clearing of the forest,
where the sun dares to peek through the trees and your heartbeat keeps time with the pulse of the earth.
Close your eyes and let your back kiss the moss,
feel the way it grows to engulf your skin,
pulling to you down into its veins.

There is no need to be afraid anymore,
where the forest stands witness
to the rebirth of your skin.
Press your palms to the earth
and lean into the melancholy
of the dirt under your fingernails,
feel it rise and fall under your lifelines
and know that the heartbeat will play on.

Have you ever listened to the song that surrounds you now?
It has called for you,
pulled you in,
begged for you to gaze upon its melody and understand
that it has always been meant for you.
Let your heartbeat keep time with the pulse of the earth
its rhythm steady as you descend
under its skin.

When you open your eyes once more,
you will be anew,
eyes gazing over this world, fresh and naive,
but it will still be there,
its steady rhythm linking with the sound of your pulse.
It is everywhere
and yet, you know,
it is only meant for you.
Only for you.
For too long I've kneeled in the tragedy of this forest floor.
My barren skin, representing the ages of perceived insignificance.
I'd ask this sacred to give me my strength, if only once more
Before I forget who I am and become yet another agent of pestilence.
The truth is revealing itself, and we are in the aftergloom.
Like prey, we're endlessly approaching the darkest of funeral moons.
The preachers promise us blissful, eternal life after death
Yet they cherish nothing of Earth in the very same breath.
Every step further is a step walking on eminent fields of grief.
I pray the spirits to take me away, peacefully, to the golden sleep.
My last hope for man is to ask forgiveness for all they've sinned
Before the light takes us, and we feel the last sigh of the funeral wind.
A wish for humanity.
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