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The Forest's Creativity DevicesTrees fall,
New pencil shipments arrived.

Take RootStanding alone in the yard,
watching the sun rise,
I feel the warmth of the rays
on my cheek
and it reminds me
of life, of blood
running through my veins
and the beat of my heart
following the songs of nature,
keeping tempo.
I want to take root
like the big oak
whose leaves rustle with
nature’s every breath.
I want to stay here,
awake and alive.

Touched by ThunderI can hear the thunder,
great deep rumblings
like the growling of a fierce
loathsome beast.

I revel in the sound,
dance to the carnal vibrations
low beneath my feet.

I yearn to feel the sweet, cool mist;
Gentle spray of the sky.
Like a caress from a familiar lover,
lingering on my flesh.

Then I know,
Somewhere on this heavenly place
I call home
I can be touched.

Rain!!

I look up at the sky,
Its raining;
The raindrops fall on my cheek,
And I give Him a teary smile.

TreesYou’re immobile, yet alive
You hold an occasional beehive
Every spring you revive

You grow and change color
It’s hard to picture you when you were smaller
Because now you are much, much taller

In the spring and summer you thrive
But you are sad when the humans arrive
They ruin you; your home derived
But yet you help them be able to survive

A Poem about PoemsToo many times,
when I read people's poetry,
They're filled with hate, resentment,
instead of joy and glee.

There are so many things,
That are utterly wonderful,
Flora, fauna, friends, love,
These things so cherishable.

Is there really this much saddness,
Contained within each person's heart?
Or are these poems just attempts,
At appearing clever and smart?

But alas, I may not,
Ever find out the answer to this,
But just try and go, to be happy,
This is my only wish.

The JourneyPuffy wisps of moisture,
combining together,
floating their way through the atmosphere.
Blocking the sun's rays,
plunging the surface beneath into darkness.
Flying and climbing through them,
the metal and plastic birds,
without flapping,
make their way through the air.
Once these puffs of moisture get full enough,
Once they cannot take any more,
They fall.
They fall as a group.
A few stay behind,
knowing one day,
they too will make their fateful journey toward the surface.
Never to see the others again,
out of the puffs and onto the land.
With a cracking chorus of cacophonous clatter they hit,
smashing into the land,
their energy becoming one

The World is Always ChangingThe world is slowly changing naturally,
through many forms and processes.
Erosion and corrosion,
Heat waves and blizzards,
tornadoes and tsunamis.
Earthquakes shake the ground,
Whirlpools swirl in the seas.
Tectonic plates moving below,
Clouds forming and moving above.
Volcanoes making islands,
The sea taking them back.

The world is fastly changing unnaturally.
Oil spills in the water,
Pollutants in our air.
Gum killing birds,
Plastic bags choking dolphins.
Chopping down trees,
Abusing what little fresh water we have.
Over fishing,
Over hunting,
Over reproducing,
Over using resources.

The world is always changing,
Naturally and unnaturally.

Before the DawnBefore the Dawn

Before the pale clouds
Are colored by pink pastels
Long before the eyes of humans
Witness the work done by night's creatures
A breeze disturbs the slumber
Of a young bud.

The petals droop
Just enough to peek out
And witness the veil around it
While the young ones slept.
The adults nearby
Take notice.

At first they stare
As the bud feigns sleep
Where dreams of plentiful summers
Spring forth for all the flowers.
As the young one pretends,
It succumbs to the truth until the sun awakens.

Life Storyi sometimes wondered
why mum cried
when I was young
with a cigar in her hand
the bags were puffy
underneath her eyes
i thought it was the weather
but she cried on sunny days, too
or when the rain cleared with a rainbow
as i got older
i cried, too!
there was a funny feeling
in my chest that hurt real bad
i would stare down at a picture of myself
the tears would go pitter patter
i never even knew why i cried
then, when i got to high school
mum was never home
always working, always busy
i would cry and cry
in front of the woods
behind our great, big house
i'd stare into the forest
as

oceanocean
the raging waves can be heard from all directions.
the smell of salt stings ur nose.
the ocean is unforgiving and harsh.
always changing.
making it unmappable.

ElementalSaid the Fire, aflame with fierce passion, to the fertile Earth:
I can scorch you
Said the Water coldly, deep and sound, to the furious Fire
I can quench you
Said the Air, pure and free, whistling his song, to the wide Waters below
I can steal you
Said the Earth, gentle and strong, lush with green, to the her blanket of Air
I sustain you

Death is only the beginningDeath is only the beginning

The Demons of Darkness have taken over
Evil Spirits rip our Hearts out
Torture us
Kill us
Slam chains into our legs
Our arms
Our face
My own reflection, it is
Your own reflection, it is
Darkness will take over
Everything will be destroyed
Nothing will be left
Of this world,
Earth,
As we call it.
Hearts ripped out of our chests
Red liquid filling the Earth
Paint the Earth red
Monsters of Darkness will feed
Demons of Darkness take our Souls
And it's just your own reflection
Remember that

Always

The Castle and the ForestOver the fields filled with water
The clouds hang low
Plentifully dotted across the sky
A phantasmagoric duochrome
Blue and white castles

Rows of wet, healthy green trees
Swamps and bogs
And plains, and farmhouses
All - very distantly - within sight of the city
With its pillars of white

Plants, robust, rustic
And fences, and we pass under a bridge
And glimpse a patch of trees, green and brown
And over that way, the dark forest
And we're heading that way

A lone dog walker
The curve of the road, I feel it
All of creation beneath us
And people playing soccer
And the burgundy fields

What secrets does the green forest hold?
Dark and endless, b

Father's Day GiftDear Father

Well today is the day. The day you are king.

The day we roll up the red carpet and fulfill your wishes.

You have come a long way In this life. And have much to be thankful for.

It's true you got some downers lately but remember what you do have. A loving family, a well off home, a graduate son, another son in college on verge of securing his future, and a daughter booming with potential to become anything, and a loving wife who loves you to death as much as your children,

You are living the dream my father and king. A future we as your children hope to someday to being our own. So Happy Second and Early Birthday Father, and

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Perhaps the tyrannosaur’s dream-time imagination tricked his senses again. With a confused grunt he lowered himself back onto the forest floor and closed his eyes again.
The thumping did not die. If anything it bombarded his hearing with even stronger fury, forcing

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Abduleh’s olive-brown face flushed red as he curled his lips into a hateful sneer. Unlike the Kametians, who strutted around in skimpy white kilts and dazzling gold, he wore the modest woolen robe and keffiyeh headdress typical of Ishmaelim, without any jewelry to show off. Not that he needed such useless glitter anyway, for the gray streaking his black beard earned him all the tribe’s respect that he needed. They after all showed off his wisdom rather than the mere wealth the Kametians worshipped to the poin

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    The throaty blare of a hollowed animal horn broke the silence. "Mu

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Submitted: January 13
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Aging Triceratops

by *BrandonSPilcher, Jan 13, 2013, 9:06:03 PM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

The gray mist cries tears of water.
They drip through the tangled treetops
And pool on the undergrowth's fronds.
Thunder's grumble bounces through the shadows.
Frogs sing their joy for all the moisture.
But one greater being shares not their elation.

Once the earth shuddered from his stomping.
Now his column legs ache as he lumbers.
Once rainbow gems dazzled on his hide.
Now the colors have faded between the wrinkles.
Once a thick round shield protected his neck.
Now the Tyrants have chomped off its edges.

Once two spears thrust from his brows.
Now the first has dulled and the second splintered.
Once a dagger stabbed up from his snout.
Now its blade has worn from overuse too.
The scars of battle still stripe his face.
But all the rains have doused his past rage.

With a hooked beak he prunes vines and herbs.
Only their flavor soothes his inner pain.
Still his limbs wobble under his weight.
Their bones have grown brittle and the muscles slack.
With a final trumpet that breaks into a croak,
He tips onto his flank and crashes with a thud.

The world blurs and blackens.
His heart stills and silences.
The jungle chorus fades from his ears.
All his thoughts leak from his mind.
The birds and lizards crowd around his corpse.
His loss will feed their lives.

Aging Triceratopsby *BrandonSPilcher

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

A second experiment with free-verse poetry. I notice that so far my poems have rather melancholy endings. Does this reflect depressive tendencies on my part?