Season
Ruby-veins crept into the foliage.
Then the pond was calm and wide.
By the forest's edge brightly scattered
Bluish speckles and brown dust lay.
A fisherman drew in his nets.
Then dusk came over the field.
But, a yard shined still palely illuminated
And maids brought fruit and wine.
Distantly a shepherd's song died after.
Then huts stood bleak and strange.
The forest in gray shroud
Evoked sad memory.
And overnight time became quiet
And an army of ravens flew
As if in black holes in the forest and moved
Toward the town's very distant ringing.
poem by Georg Trakl
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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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We go no more to the Forest
WE go no more to the forest,
The rimus are all cut down.
They are built into roof and sill and wall,
Into floors that thrill to the last foot-fall
In the dancing of the town.
We go no more to the forest,
The kauris are all cut down.
They are built into ships so stout and strong,
Bearing their cargoes safe along,
Sailing from town to town.
We go no more to the forest,
The ratas are all cut down.
There are cornfields, golden and green and wide,
For the tangled depths where a world might hide,
And our lawns lie smooth in town.
We go no more to the forest:
Young, wild things are all cut down.
We are buying and selling and making love,
As the grown folk do, with a roof above,
And our hearts are at home in town.
poem by Mary Colborne-Veel
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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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Memory Of Childhood
Memories of childhood flash in to mind
Loitering from field to field was our trend
Yet now strikes me the memory of committing theft
In Act of dodge we used to run from forest to forest
For various kinds of joys we used to go on fishing
For mother the conch - caster - lotus we used to bring
Same song is singed by mynah and bird another kind
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Embroidery
Embroidery of the forest
On to the fields of time
The wings of gray achiest
All in their grayness prime
Of dreams that once were
In the moments like drift
When summertime was near
In ways of its open whiffed
Foliage of winter falling
Thru steps of time’s thread
When gloom shades are calling
In tints of their brownish red
And day is shorter becoming
In each their light of rise
On earth open blossoming
That to the winter cold dies
Draperies of their burgeon lay
That fetches old rustic bled
When the forest murky play
Its wilderness meadows bed
Oh forest my old trail forest
In all the traditions you hold
Once proud habits of the florist
Now‘s in ashen winter’s cold
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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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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Sheva
To the white forest of emotions and,
To the black forest of love;
But Sheva is your name and,
One day you will fly up high like a kite.
You've got everything but,
The rain dropa are like the tears on your face;
So, how calm are the pillows of your love?
Commitmment and faithfulness,
Mercy and loving-kindness;
But the fruit of your tree is measured by your muse!
For a virtuous woman is the crown of the husband.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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…
San Terenzo
MID April seemed like some November day,
When through the glassy waters, dull as lead,
Our boat, like shadowy barques that bear the dead,
Slipped down the long shores of the Spezian bay,
Rounded a point,—and San Terenzo lay
Before us, that gay village, yellow and red,
The roof that covered Shelley’s homeless head,—
His house, a place deserted, bleak and gray.
The waves broke on the doorstep; fishermen
Cast their long nets, and drew, and cast again.
Deep in the ilex woods we wandered free,
When suddenly the forest glades were stirred
With waving pinions, and a great sea bird
Flew forth, like Shelley’s spirit, to the sea!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Concrete Forest
Gang banging
Street banging
Concrete Forest—
People dying
Children crying
Bullets flying
No remorse for the fallen—
Crack smoking
Prostitute selling
Cops stinging
Benefactors of trouble times—
Blood
Guts—inside body parts
Cultivate the Concrete Forest—
I see a mother kneeling
A priest praying
A child victimize—a father convicted
All within the Concrete Forest—
Sirens blowing
Lights flashing
Someone else dying
In the Concrete Forest—
Mercy on us
Compassion for us
Deliver us
From the Concrete Forest—
Restore our hope
Destroy the trepidation
Breathe life back into Concrete Forest—
It is time to go
My time is gone
My nightmares—relinquished
Within the Concrete Forest—
No more worrisome days
No more stressful nights
Freedom has come to me
In the Concrete Forest—
My freedom is now
Your comes later
But, not in this Concrete Forest—
Written by
Gregory E Upshaw
poem by Gregory Upshaw
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Georgia Forest
This Georgia forest,
is sundered
by winding highway
into green canyon walls.
Dark pines subsume
the mid-day dusk;
black trunks thrust
into red forest floor
when, with sudden, golden shaft,
the faithful sun splits
its sullen core.
poem by Steven Federle
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CVIII
A FOREST IN BOSNIA
Spirit of Trajan! What a world is here,
What remnant of old Europe in this wood,
Of life primaeval rude as in the year
When thy first legions by the Danube stood.
These are the very Dacians they subdued,
Swineherds and shepherds clad in skins of deer
And fox and marten still, a bestial brood,
Than their own swine begotten swinelier.
The fair oak--forest, their first heritage,
Pastures them still, and still the hollow oak
Receives them in its bosom. Still o'erhead
Upon the stag--head tops, grown hoar with age,
Calm buzzards sit and ancient ravens croak,
And all with solemn life is tenanted.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Forest of the Lost
She wanders curiously through
The Forest of the Lost
Past the other creatures of pity
The Lost creatures
She looks and listens
Sees and hears
Nothing and everything
Space and form
Fog rolls in
Growing thicker
It trys to devour her
Like it so easily devours
The other Lost creatures
But her strange aroura
Pitch black and brighter than the sun
Protects her with ease
She does not belong
To the Forest of the Lost
The Forest of the Lost
Belongs to her
She is not Lost
Lost is her
She is magical
Mysterious
Dark and light
Blended together
The Forest of the Lost
Has met its maker
The Lost creatures
Take shape
In the fog
And thank her
And the Girl of the Lost
Guides the creatures back
To the Land of the Found
poem by Shannon Hughes
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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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Beautiful nature in the forest
Our beatiful nature
as it is full of leisure
it keeps us suuplied with food
and gives us too shelter which is good
our beautiful nature
in the forest the trees swing
while the birds sing
the grass dance at the birds tune
as their moisture will run away so soon
our beautiful nature
as you step inside the forest
i set my foot on the ground to rest
as the forest skin holds my feet
the dew rans way and the grass take a sit
our beautiful nature
i pick out a fruit from a tree
since they are provided for free
i dont even need to bend on to one knee
i relax inside with calm
since the forest has also a natural charm
which will protect me
from any living predators
lastly i came out happily
as i was fed so quickly
which makes me to be taking care of nature
so lets all take care of nature
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
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The Old School House At Ruby
In old school house yard at Ruby a dark brown shorthorn cow
And leghorn pullets cackling beneath the cypress bough
This school must hold good memories and memories live somehow
Here in their lunch hour children played but where are those children now? .
The old school room now a tea room has undergone some change
And if past pupil came back here he'd find the place quite strange
Where is the desk he sat at? the blackboard is not there
And time has brought change to Ruby as it has done elsewhere.
The old school house at Ruby a memory of past years
Here Ruby children sang and laughed and shed their fledgeling tears
And do those children of Ruby who now live far away
In dreams return to old school house and Ruby childhood day? .
The old school house at Ruby a memory of the past
And time has brought about some change and time bring change too fast
This school must hold good memories and memories live somehow
Here in their lunch hour children played but where are those children now? .
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Home From The Forest
Oh the neon lights were flashin
And the icy wind did blow
The water seeped into his shoes
And the drizzle turned to snow
His eyes were red, his hopes were dead
And the wine was runnin low
And the old man came home
From the forest
His tears fell on the sidewalk
As he stumbled in the street
A dozen faces stopped to stare
But no one stopped to speak
For his castle was a hallway
And the bottle was his friend
And the old man stumbled in
From the forest
Up a dark and dingy staircase
The old man made his way
His ragged coat around him
As upon his cot he lay
And he wondered how it happened
That he ended up this way
Getting lost like a fool
In the forest
And as he lay there sleeping
A vision did appear
Upon his mantle shining
A face of one so dear
Who had loved him in the springtime
Of a long-forgotten year
When the wildflowers did bloom
In the forest
She touched his grizzled fingers
And she called him by his name
And then he heard the joyful sound
Of children at their games
In an old house on a hillside
In some forgotten town
Where the river runs down
From the forest
With a mighty roar the big jets soar
Above the canyon streets
And the con men con but life goes on
For the city never sleeps
And to an old forgotten soldier
The dawn will come no more
For the old man has come home
From the forest
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purple Forest
I walk into a purple forest
The place is magical and free
The grass is violet, the sky is white
Purple defines every tree
I walk into a purple forest
There are purple buzzing bees
And a swamp of violet waters
creep up to my knees
I walk into a purple forest
A streak of purple runs across the sky
I hear a gentle whisper say
It was a fairy passing by
I walk into a purple forest
On violet sod I lie my head
But later, of course
I awake in my bed
poem by Summer Song
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December
At evening jugglers travel through the forest
On quaint wagons, small steeds.
A golden stash seems locked in clouds.
In the white plain villages are painted.
The wind swings shield and billet black and cold.
A raven follows the morose comrades.
From the sky a ray falls on bloody gutters
And placidly a funeral procession pilgrimages to the cemetery.
The shepherd's hut dwindles nearby in the gray,
In the pond a brilliance of old treasures glistens;
The farmers sit down in the tavern for wine.
A boy glides shyly to a woman.
One still sees the sexton in the vestry
And reddish utensils, beautiful and dim.
poem by Georg Trakl
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