New England Winter
Testing the soul's mettle,
the frost heaves
holes in the roads
to the heart,
the glass forest
raises up its branches
to praise all things
that catch the light
then melt.
The forest floor is white,
but here & there a boulder rises
with its glacial arrogance
& brooks that bubble
under the sheets of ice
remind us that the tundra of the soul
will soften
just a little
towards the spring.
poem by Erica Jong
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Related quotes
In The Forest
By the sacred grove, where the waters flow
We will come and go, in the forest
In the summer rain, we will meet again
We will learn the code of the ancient ones
In the forest
By the waterfall, I will hold you in my arms
We will meet again by the leafy glade
In the shade of the forest
With your long robes on, we will surely roam
By the ancient roads, I will take you home
To the forest
In the forest, in the forest
In the forest, in the forest
With your long robes on, we will surely roam
By the ancient roads, I will take you home again
To the forest
Satisfy the soul baby
Birds sing all day long of the mother lode
We can let it roll, in the forest
With your long robes on
I know where youre coming from
By the big oak tree youve gotta come and go with me
In the forest, in the forest
In the forest, in the forest
By the waterfall
I will hold you in my arms, and we will meet again
By the leafy shade, in the, in the forest
Satisfy the soul
Birds sing all day long of the mother lode
We can surely let it roll, in the forest
With your long robes on
I know where youre coming from
We will surely roam, down by the ancient roads
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Forest
The edge of the forest stands
Against the grey, white sky
Like a row of colourless headstones
Stripped trees emerge
Tombs of a bleak winter
Silhouetted in the dull light
Against the imaginings of man
No light or life escapes
The depths of the forest
The thoughts which swell there
Creates in them a fear
Some great sadness hidden
Branches reach out like clawed hands
Pointing into a nothingness
Or grabbing, pulling inwards
To the shadows and the darkness
Of the deathly forest floor
The silence that awaits
Far beneath the grey, white sky
The morning becomes forgotten
Beyond the edge of the forest
Where shadows hide
poem by Matthew Holloway
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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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The magic forest
At the Bois de Boulogne lies magic
Magic that cannot be evitable
Magic that lures people into the evergreen forest
In the forest, soft earth is like a comfy bed
Meadows of grass are green sheets for the bed
If you happen to lie down on the bed
The sunlight hugs your body gently like a mother
Your eyes are heavy weights, unable to keep your eyes open
You fall into the sweetest dream as time goes by…
Night walked into the forest as day walked out of the forest
The pale moon is like a glass eye of a witch staring at you
The dark magic falls into the forest
Lusty monsters fill the magic forest
And the magic forest falls asleep…
Lonely Tree
A lonely tree
On a lonely hill
Wishes to be
A forest still
Thou all alone
It dreams of more
Of seedlings grown
From its forest floor
Their branches growing
Ever climbing high
So feverish flowing
To reach blue sky
Covering this land
Beyond its view
A forest grand
All fresh and new
A sight to behold
It would surely be
A dream so bold
For such a lonely tree.
“closing thought”
A family is like a forest that continues to grow
From a lone simple seedling it outwardly flows
poem by Gordon Jerome
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Romance
MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.
A gray tower in a forest green
Was hers, and far on either hand
The long wash of the waves was seen,
And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,
The woven forest boughs between!
And through the silver Northern night
The sunset slowly died away,
And herds of strange deer, lily-white,
Stole forth among the branches gray;
About the coming of the light,
They fled like ghosts before the day!
I know not if the forest green
Still girdles round that castle gray;
I know not if the boughs between
The white deer vanish ere the day;
Above my Love the grass is green,
My heart is colder than the clay!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Mid-Forest Fear
SHE is standing at the gate,
Tall and sweet,
And although the hour be late
She will greet
Me, her lover,
Smiling over
Absent mind and tardy feet.
‘Rest,’ I’ll say to her, ‘and more rest,’
As she wraps her love around me,
And I’ll tell her of the forest,
Of the strange, fear-haunted forest
Where the fleshless beings found me.
For I trod a rock-strewn rude way
Thinking only of my lover,
When the moonlight on the woodway,
Made a weird-way of the woodway,
And a place where demons hover.
For the leaves that had been sleeping
On the sodden soil-bed lying,
Look a motion and ’gan creeping,
Like a thousand small feet creeping,
And there rose a distant sighing.
Why the trees did droop their tresses,
Weeping leaves for something under,
And what bode in dim recesses,
Feline-lurked in dim recesses,
Paled my cheeks and heart to ponder.
Had I feet I would have hurried,
But the moonlit forest chained me,
Soul and body grasped and worried,
With frost-fingers gripped and worried,
Till, half-stayed, my hurt heart pained me.…
‘Rest,’ I’ll say, ‘my Love, and more rest;
Things unseen have life and motion
And they haunt the moonlit forest—
Soul-affronting haunt the forest,
And men meet them on the ocean.’
She will look so grave and kind,
Saying ‘Rest—
Rest is here for heart and mind
On this breast—
Put aside all
Fancies idle,
I will shield you—Love is best.’
poem by Roderic Quinn
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My two seasons
Glacial braids paralyze the silver time
Bearing that frost coming seemingly
From the North Star
Ceremonial clouds enwind the light
Of the very frigid sun
The gelid wind creeps up its spine
The lifeless forest highlands its somberness
The dusky frozen autumn
Like a decrescent moon in the eclipse
Suffers the ignominy of being left behind
In the faintly confused history
The nature can wait the winter to come
Dressed in her refulgent white
For restoring her sovereignty
Like a queen with blue heart and icy tears
poem by Marieta Maglas
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A Bubble In My Heart...!
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that floats
Like it is made out of soap
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that dance
Like it is riding on the breeze
A bubble a bubble in my heart
A bubble a bubble that fills my heart
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that sings
Like it knows how to sing
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that roams
Out of my heart in to the storms
A bubble a bubble in my heart
A bubble a bubble that fills my heart
There's a bubble in my heart
Baby can you see that
Yeah the bubble in my heart
There's a bubble in my heart
A bubble that shines
Much more than sunshine
A bubble a bubble in my heart
Yeah baby, there is a bubble, a bubble in my heart....!
poem by Rowving Smith
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Clean white sheets
Clean white sheets upon my bed
cradle my body but not my head.
My head's never cradled. It's too full.
It's too noisy. There is no lull.
I wash them routinely every week.
If I hung them outside the neighbors would speak.
Their words would complement the sight
of clean white sheets I use at night.
But they don't know how I'm awake
and how those sheets never give me a break.
I make the bed up and I think
'If only I could catch a wink.'
I'd praise those sheets on every day
and finally I'd be able to say.
'Clean white sheets upon my bed
you've found a way to cradle my head.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I Do Listen Dear
in my I do
the kingdom of success
listen to the echo
of the mountain; as the dew of the forest
chilled the glory of the heart
the house, erase the
trouble heart to calm and blow
down what mint to love and cherish of
promise in the end of the
beginning
I dream of what life could be
at the start
capture of what is reality of the present,
behave like a frost candy
in the wonderland; as it melt flourish
the beautiful hyacinth of change in
every heart, wonderful yet! brings
hymn in the coming days
leave me alone,
but hold me close, for loving praise and kiss
the ocean floor
of lasting moment of peace
in every candid journey;
as it billeted
the wings of sweat teardrops
that fall leaving me alone
to fly
poem by Antonio Liao
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Catchfire
It's only needs a spark to catch fire
Bone dry and brittle
A dying forest
Deprived of water
Dead trees seem to blanket the
Once healthy, vibrant forest floor
Leaves and yellow grass are like a disease
Slowly consuming all that is green
Fires rage everywhere
Not here, not yet atleast
But,
It only needs a spark to catch fire
poem by Autumn Winds
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from C.A.
bloomingbirds fall from this tree
where flower seasons pass
sweetlip & petalwing now
slain upon the grass
frost & glass
frost & broken glass
barefoot on the splinters of your heart
of frost & glass
loveblind & rippingyarns
a-slither on the vine
Snowking, with your thorny eyes
my happiness conspires
frost & glass
frost & broken glass
barefoot on the splinters of your heart
of frost & glass
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love In Winter
Winter cannot chill my ardent soul
Nor forest entrapped by icy glaze
Her smile is what makes me whole
Eyes that set my racing heart ablaze
Alas, soon come the days of spring
When crocus seek the light of day
When forest birds begin to nest ‘n sing
When nature’s colors offer full display
We’ll stroll together she and me
Through hill ‘n dale, arm in arm
Seek wonders with gentle affinity
We’ll drink our fill of Nature’s charm
How blessed are those that fall in love,
A gift from God's heaven high above
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Untitled: Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Figure which has long dwelt in the coolness of sinister stone
Opens the pale mouth sounding
Round owl's eyes - sounding gold.
Those found the cave of the forest decayed and empty
The shadow of a doe in the rotten branches
At the border of the spring the darkness of his childhood.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your brown coat;
The shadow of the owl appears in the rotten branches.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your blue coat
The shadow of the mother appears in the spiky grass.
Long at the forest border a bird sings your decline
The anxious showers of your black coat
The shadow of the black horse appears in the mirror of the spring.
poem by Georg Trakl
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An Ice-Bound Heart
Encased in indifferent ice
glacial heart beats slowly, coolly
caring less about others' needs
than preserving spirit's isolation;
or, caught in ego's snares,
thinks only of itself.
What an isolated soul it is:
seeing only its reflection
frozen in winter's frosty panes.
Can nothing crack the ice,
penetrate to spirit's depth
melt glacial walls
& let uncorrupted love enter,
laughing with joy?
Can such a heart,
(frigid & safe behind
accumulated rime)
ever take pleasure
other than isolation's illusory dance?
How then will it learn:
We all are connected; unique yet same.
Each of us carries Divinity's spark.
It matters not our heritage nor our name.
Disregarding others we stay lost in the dark,
Empty, cold & so forlorn,
'twere better we were never born
than waste our gifts in empty show,
Lock'd within self, nowhere to go:
always nose 'gainst glass press'd firm
Gazing outward o'er a glacial berm,
Surrounded by a self-made wall of ice
Never to know or enter paradise.
(Copyright 12/11/2005)
The Storm And The Bush
There are only two things in the world—
The storm in the air and the stretch of green leaves;
The flesh of the forest that quivers and heaves
As the blast on its bosom is hurled.
Above is the whip of the wind
That scourges the cowering forest beneath:
The Storm spits the hiss of the hail from his teeth,
And leaves the world writhing behind!
Like a beast that is bound in a cage
When the keeper's lash lights and the keeper's goad stings,
Each tree his great limbs to his torturer flings
In a groaning and impotent rage.
As the leaves to a fiercer gust lean
The wind throws their undersides upward to sight,
And the foam of the forest-sea flashes to white
Out over full fathoms of green.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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Snow
Down out of heaven,
Frost-kissed
And wind driven,
Flake upon flake,
Over forest and lake,
Cometh the snow.
Folding the forest,
Folding the farms,
In a mantle of white;
And the river’s great arms,
Kissed by the chill night
From clamor to rest,
Lie all white and shrouded
Upon the world’s breast.
Falling so slowly
Down from above,
So white, hushed, and holy,
Folding the city
Like the great pity
Of God in His love; 20
Sent down out of heaven
On its sorrow and crime,
Blotting them, folding them
Under its rime.
Fluttering, rustling,
Soft as a breath,
The whisper of leaves,
The low pinions of death,
Or the voice of the dawning,
When day has its birth,
Is the music of silence
It makes to the earth.
Thus down out of heaven,
Frost-kissed
And wind driven,
Flake upon flake,
Over forest and lake,
Cometh the snow.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Refuge Of The Roads
I met a friend of spirit
He drank and womanized
And I sat before his sanity
I was holding back from crying
He saw my complications
And he mirrored me back simplified
And we laughed how our perfection
Would always be denied
Heart and humor and humility
He said will lighten up your heavy load
I left him for the refuge of the roads
I fell in with some drifters
Cast upon a beachtown
Winn dixie cold cuts and highway hand me downs
And I wound up fixing dinner
For them and boston jim
I well up with affection
Thinking back down the roads to then
The nets were overflowing
In the gulf of mexico
They were overflowing in the refuge of the roads
There was spring along the ditches
There were good times in the cities
Oh, radiant happiness
It was all so light and easy
Till I started analyzing
And I brought on my old ways
A thunderhead of judgment was
Gathering in my gaze
And it made most people nervous
They just didnt want to know
What I was seeing in the refuge of the roads
I pulled off into a forest
Crickets clicking in the ferns
Like a wheel of fortune
I heard my fate turn, turn turn
And I went running down a white sand road
I was running like a white-assed deer
Running to lose the blues
To the innocence in here
These are the clouds of michelangelo
Muscular with gods and sungold
Shine on your witness in the refuge of the roads
In a highway service station
Over the month of june
Was a photograph of the earth
Taken coming back from the moon
And you couldnt see a city
On that marbled bowling ball
Or a forest or a highway
Or me here least of all
You couldnt see these cold water restrooms
Or this baggage overload
Westbound and rolling taking refuge in the roads
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Brother Of My Soul
eucalypts,
that once stood the night
sentinels to my sleeping swag
where the fire burned for friends
warmed against sub zero,
have uprooted, fled
and the forest choir that
sang my awakening, silenced
sings no more
only the raven flies, caws,
and casts its shadow long
across my life
the sun no longer warms nor
lights my way through days
darkness engirds my soul
the raven lands
morrigan launders, where
once friends in a trilogy
gave praise for their lives entwined
only the forest privy to the sacrament
of friendship
the land is bare
and the blood of the chosen
stains the ground
morrigan launders his clothes
the brother of my soul
while he sits his rock, a man among men
yet sees me no more
hears me no more
I see him, I hear him, always
the brother of my soul
alive in the raven,
in the strengh of the rock
I lean on him
in these my darkest days
alive in the symbols he chose,
alive in my heart,
forever,
the brother of my soul.
poem by Phil Charters
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