A forest would want to be burned by its own wood.
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Life in the woods
Lines on the struggles of the early settlers.
Canada hath wealthy yeoman
Whose fathers overcame the foeman ;
The enemy they boldly slew
Was mighty forest they did hew,
And where they burned heaps of slain
Their sons now reap the golden grain ;
But in the region of North West,
With prairie farms they are blest ;
Though this to them it may seem good
Yet many blessings come from wood.
It shelters you from fierce storm,
And in the winter keeps you warm ;
For one who hath his forest trees
He builds his house and barn with ease,
And how quick he gets from thence
Timber for bridge and for his fence.
poem by James McIntyre
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Wednesday's Wood
Wednesday's wood,
Deep in the forest for the women to carry;
But you've brought much trouble upon me!
Hunt,
Angry,
Hurt,
Acquire,
Possessions,
Oppression;
But after 21 days in the thick forest,
I will find my way back home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The forest should be burned when a sapling grows wrongly.
Burning In The Skies
I used the deadwood to make the fire rise
The blood of innocence burning in the skies
I filled my cup with the rising of the sea
And poured it out in an ocean of debris
I'm swimming in the smoke
Of bridges I have burned
So don't apologize
I'm losing what I don't deserve
What I don't deserve
We held our breath when the clouds began
to form
But you were lost in the beating of the
storm
And in the end we were made to be apart
In separate chambers of the human heart
I'm swimming in the smoke
Of bridges I have burned
So don't apologize
I'm losing what I don't deserve
It's in the blackened bones
Of bridges I have burned
So don't apologize
I'm losing what I don't deserve
What I don't deserve
I'm swimming in the smoke
Of bridges I have burned
So don't apologize
I'm losing what I don't deserve
The blame is mine alone
For bridges I have burned
So don't apologize
I'm losing what I don't deserve
What I don't deserve
And here's the dead wood to make the fire
rise
The blood of innocence burning in the skies
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Hutch
of her arms, this was her sin:
where the wood berries bin
of forest was new and full,
she crept out by its tall
posts, those wooden legs,
and heard the sound of wild pigs.
calling and did not wait nor care.
The leaves wept in her hair
as she sank to a pit of needles
and twisted out the ivyless
gate, where the wood berries bin
was full and a pig came in.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Love & Maple Syrup
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
If you go into the forest, gaze up through the leaves
And see the sky thats almost wild
You must learn to understand
What makes the forest greet the man
Like a mothers only child
In the north when when winters claw
Relaxes now to keep the laws of nature in control
People come and stand in line
To rob the forest of her wine
But they dont feel the cold
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
Love and maple syrup goes together
Like the sticky winds of winter when they meet
When lonely lovers come to rest
Beneath the trees they do their best
But still they cant be free
Love and maple syrup shine like
Embers warm, like thoughts divine
They tell us it is spring
Love and maple syrup stir
The thoughts of people into words
Of songs that they can sing
Looking for the world to be
Anything but what they see
Longing to be understood
By the heart that shapes the wood
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Say It Ain't So Joe
(Head)
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
That's not what I wanna hear Jo
And I got a right to know
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
I'm sure they're telling us lies Jo
Please tell us it ain't so
They told us that our hero has played his trump card
He doesn't know how to go on
We're clinging to his charm and determined smile
The good old days have gone
The image and the empire may be falling apart
The money has gotten scarce
One man's word held the country together
But the truth is getting fierce
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
We pinned our hopes on you Jo
And they're ruining our show
Ooh baby don't you think
We're gonna get burned
Ooh baby don't you think
We're gonna get burned
We're gonna get turned
We're gonna get burned
Yes we're gonna get turned
We're gonna get burned
We're gonna get turned
Yes, we're gonna get burned
We're gonna get burned
We're gonna get burned
Yes we're gonna get turned
We're gonna get burned
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
That's not what I wanna hear Jo
And I got a right to know
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
I'm sure they're telling us lies Jo
Please tell us it ain't so
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
That's not what I wanna hear Jo
And I got a right to know
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
I'm sure they're telling us lies Jo
Please tell us it ain't so
Say it ain't so
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night The Carousel Burnt Down
Werent you there when the carousel burned down
The fire and confusion, the smoke and the sound
I swear you were there when the carousel burned down
We were all around
The rings charred and tarnished all over the ground
And the heads hung down
And we all left town the next day
The children all cried when the carousel burned down
The old ladies sighed and the carousel burned down
The rest of us lied as the carousel burned down
And the flames did fly
The pipes steamed and shrieked out a blazing goodbye
As the boiler died
And they melted down the midway
And we all left town the next day
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Creed Of The Wood
A WHIFF of forest scent,
Balsam and fern,
Won from dreary mood
My heart's return,
From its discontent,
Joy's run-away,
To the sweet, wise wood
And the laughing day.
Simple as dew and gleam
Is the creed of the wood!
The Beautiful gave us life,
And life is good.
Be the world but a dream,
Let the world go shod
With peace, not strife,
For the Dreamer is God.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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What is it about genus arboretum that socks us in the figurative solar plexus We see a logging truck go cruising down the road, stacked with a bunch of those fresh-cut giants, we feel like we lost a brother. Next thing you know, we're in The Brick, we're flopping money down on the bar. Wood. We're under a roof. Wood. We're walking the floors. Wood. Grabbing a pool cue. That's wood. Our friends in the forest carry a set of luggage from the mythical baggage carousel. Tree of life, tree of knowledge, family tree, Buddha's Bodhi tree. Page one of life, in the beginning. Genesis 322. Adam and Eve. They're kicking back in the garden of Eden and boom, they get an eviction notice. Why is that Lest they should also take of the tree of life, eat and live forever. A definitive Yahweh no-no. Be good to yourself, go out and plant a wet one on a tree.
quote by Diane Frolov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Tempreate Forest
In Temperate Forest,
Neither cold nor warm.
You can take serene rest,
Expanding your arm.
Humming with lively life,
Birds call from the trees.
In their delight and strife;
Insects rustle like breeze.
The thick leaves of forest,
Cut sunlight in drops.
Seeing the peaceful nest,
Heart happily throbs.
Honey-suckle, blue-bell,
Bloom and laugh in gay.
Hazel, dog-wood, sorrel,
Enjoying the day!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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A Dream Pang
I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;
And to the forest edge you came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.
Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide.
But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.
poem by Robert Frost
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Banking Coal
Whoever it was who brought the first wood and coal
To start the Fire, did his part well;
Not all wood takes to fire from a match,
Nor coal from wood before it’s burned to charcoal.
The wood and coal in question caught a flame
And flared up beautifully, touching the air
That takes a flame from anything.
Somehow the fire was furnaced,
And then the time was ripe for some to say,
“Right banking of the furnace saves the coal.”
I’ve seen them set to work, each in his way,
Though all with shovels and with ashes,
Never resting till the fire seemed most dead;
Whereupon they’d crawl in hooded night-caps
Contentedly to bed. Sometimes the fire left alone
Would die, but like as not spiced tongues
Remaining by the hardest on till day would flicker up,
Never strong, to anyone who cared to rake for them.
But roaring fires never have been made that way.
I’d like to tell those folks that one grand flare
Transferred to memory tissues of the air
Is worth a like, or, for dull minds that turn in gold,
All money ever saved by banking coal.
poem by Jean Toomer
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Candle of Love
He was the fire...the fire to my burning candle
When I first recieved him he lit up my life
His flame burned vibrantly, it burned with care, and
it burned forever
Now that fire that once burned for me won't even
spark for me
Maybe its old, maybe I'm not lighting it right..or
maybe his flame is tired of my candle
poem by Octavia Tisdale
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A woebegone bird watches the forest burned!
Where's that silent tall tree
Who gave us shelter free?
My offspring kept in the roost
And I flew early in the morning
To a faraway farmland!
I collected a mouthful of golden seeds for my loved ones
And on my return in the twilight the forest almost burned!
Where's my children's father and all of them burned together?
Fire has extinguished but I found only the ashes.
In the thick smoke among the debris
I sniff their fragrance but the cruel odour of wildfire
Filled my prostrated lungs.
Where do I fly in the hopeless sky and to whom I bring the food hereafter?
*Is there any Establishment not a court in this troubled World a bird could plea and do they really understand the lament?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In the Dark Pine-Wood
In the dark pine-wood
I would we lay,
In deep cool shadow
At noon of day.
How sweet to lie there,
Sweet to kiss,
Where the great pine-forest
Enaisled is!
Thy kiss descending
Sweeter were
With a soft tumult
Of thy hair.
O unto the pine-wood
At noon of day
Come with me now,
Sweet love, away.
poem by James Joyce
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The Green Roads
The green roads that end in the forest
Are strewn with white goose feathers this June,
Life marks left behind by someone gone to the forest
To show his track. But he has never come back.
Down each green road a cottage looks at the forest.
Round one the nettle towers; two are bathed in flowers.
An old man along the green road to the forest
Strays from one, from another a child alone.
In the thicket bordering the forest,
All day long a thrush twiddles his song.
It is old, but the trees are young in the forest,
All but one like a castle keep, in the middle deep.
That oak saw the ages pass in the forest:
They were a host, but their memories are lost,
For the tree is dead: all things forget the forest
Excepting perhaps me, when now I see
The old man, the child, the goose feathers at the edge of the forest,
And hear all day long the thrush repeat his song.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Enigma
Some men are born to gather women's tears,
To give a harbour to their timorous fears,
To take them as the dry earth takes the rain,
As the dark wood the warm wind from the plain;
Yet their own tears remain unshed,
Their own tumultuous fears unsaid,
And, seeming steadfast as the forest and the earth
Shaken are they with pain.
They cry for voice as earth might cry for the sea
Or the wood for consuming fire;
Unanswered they remain
Subject to the sorrows of women utterly -
Heart and mind,
Subject as the dry earth to the rain
Or the dark wood to the wind.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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