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Sheila Greene May 2020
Your first steps
In gray fog
Quiet forest echoes
Eerily still
Life reflecting
Scared to death

© sd greene  6/21/17
Walking a lone in the woods at dawn, a little fog allows my imagination to run wild.
Keiya Tasire May 2020
During this mornings climb
Up the hill behind the cabin
Gently walking on a blanket of moss
across the forest floor
Softly caressing the soles of my feet.
New growth sprouting up through the moss
Orchids, Oregon grapes, lupine, and fiddlehead ferns
Rocks and trees wearing
Robes of yellow, green, and light grey lichens.
The water clinging to their tender leaves.
Boughs of the cedar, douglas fir, maple, and mountain ash
Droplets sounding
A song as they kiss the earth.
In the limbs of the trees dance the
Robins, blue jays, chickadees and sparrows
With beautiful resound
The forest greets the morning sun .
The air feels fresh clean
On the breath, in and out
As Coco and Habibie scurry to and fro
up the trail to the old wooden sauna.
It is so beautiful here.
Stroking soft fur,
Purring and purring
Sitting our own little slice of heaven.
A morning walk up the hill for fresh air, listening to life and enjoying the morning sun through the trees. I love our morning walks up the hill behind our house.
Gustavo P May 2020
What's wrong with me?
Even the hounds won't bite.
The ones you fed me to.

And your fangs break my sticks
Dash me against the stone
To be a ****** carpet for your eyes.

A forest for your lies
Just another skull for your mantle.
Bhill May 2020
once in a while, the worlds in sync
the battles are forgotten and everything’s pink
experiencing this wonder will take you by surprise
don't be confused, as it flashes by your eyes
the sun and clouds, will not get in your way
the wind and the rain will dance and dance all-day
the rivers and the oceans will be swimming with life
the forests and the deserts will be blooming without strife
once in a while, the world is in sync
can't wait to see this come to pass, and then, what will we think...?

Brian Hill - 2020 # 136
A Jung Lim May 2020
In my room
a small forest
surrounds a piano

Their leaves
when I play
turn the pages

Melodies of passing valleys
Pine smelling vines
Water drops

Then
I boil some water
to fill a flower-printed teapot
with dried lavender

Tea taste
of piano melody
wanders in the forest
Alison May 2020
☆My head's in the clouds,☆
☆My eyes are on the stars,☆
☆My feet wanders in the forest,☆
☆My fingers are dancing with the flowers,☆
☆My soul's traveling somewhere east,☆
☆But my heart remains with you.☆
☆Sounds like i'm torn apart?☆
☆No my dear,to be honest☆
☆I've never felt so whole.☆
Michael R Burch May 2020
To the boy Elis
by Georg Trakl
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Elis, when the blackbird cries from the black forest,
it announces your downfall.
Your lips sip the rock-spring's blue coolness.

Your brow sweats blood
recalling ancient myths
and dark interpretations of birds' flight.

Yet you enter the night with soft footfalls;
the ripe purple grapes hang suspended
as you wave your arms more beautifully in the blueness.

A thornbush crackles;
where now are your moonlike eyes?
How long, oh Elis, have you been dead?

A monk dips waxed fingers
into your body's hyacinth;
Our silence is a black abyss

from which sometimes a docile animal emerges
slowly lowering its heavy lids.
A black dew drips from your temples:

the lost gold of vanished stars.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: I believe that in the second stanza the blood on Elis's forehead may be a reference to the apprehensive ****** sweat of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. If my interpretation is correct, Elis hears the blackbird's cries, anticipates the danger represented by a harbinger of death, but elects to continue rather than turn back. From what I have been able to gather, the color blue had a special significance for Georg Trakl: it symbolized longing and perhaps a longing for death. The colors blue, purple and black may represent a progression toward death in the poem. Keywords/Tags: Georg Trakl, translation, German, Elis, blackbird, black forest, birds, brow, blood, grapes, monk, body, dew, stars
Coleen Mzarriz Apr 2020
The night has begun —
she dashed into the crest
of the woods
where the branches would clank together,
forming an echo of suspiciousness —
silence cannot be suppressed.

Through the drifting moon — the stars tracking her every stride
into the broad peak of the unknown,
somehow she can inhale in the black.

“Hello, which pathway will you pick up?
Can I tour with you?

She cried out.

“I don't want to be alone.”

The trees floated on the flicker of the breeze — granting her the direction
that she desires — somehow,
she realizes she is not alone.
I don't want to be alone.
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