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Walking Two

You walk me down the same path each time

showing me that other world you inhabit
a thousand sights and sounds
and smells

I am unaware of.

You look at me with wet eyes
eager to share your various finds
and the crisp morning air

aligns with my need to rise
for the tour

you want to take me on.

You're my nature guide

and I
the student

who never graduates

learning each day

from my nature dog.
You pause
each bush
of intriguing interest

and you leave behind your scent

I guess to establish your ownership

then leaping along

to the next perpendicular

wondering why I don't

join in leaving behind

my own

pee mail.

And I think to myself
that just maybe one day

at night perhaps
I will

just to see

how you'd

react

cause I know

you'd never tell

and we'd both walk away

in the stealth of night

comrades

leaving behind our combined scents

for other dogs

to know

don't mess with

we have left behind two scents
on this bush.

Woff, woff

and we then move on.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dolor of Autumn

The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear
Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn
And the snore of the night in my ear.

For suddenly, flush-fallen,
All my life, in a rush
Of shedding away, has left me
Naked, exposed on the bush.

I, on the bush of the globe,
Like a newly-naked berry, shrink
Disclosed: but I also am prowling
As well in the scents that slink

Abroad: I in this naked berry
Of flesh that stands dismayed on the bush;
And I in the stealthy, brindled odours
Prowling about the lush

And acrid night of autumn;
My soul, along with the rout,
Rank and treacherous, prowling,
Disseminated out.

For the night, with a great breath intaken,
Has taken my spirit outside
Me, till I reel with disseminated consciousness,
Like a man who has died.

At the same time I stand exposed
Here on the bush of the globe,
A newly-naked berry of flesh
For the stars to probe.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Path Of Mirrors

They walk so close to you, yet so far away
Their eyes are lost, their faces fixed like stone
They walk behind the mirrors and here they shall stay
You walk with other souls liveng, breathing, yet for them they are alone

You walk through the hall way down the path of glass
You watch as they walk on into eternity, into the dark
They walk there behind the glass,
People around you going through leaving their mark.

They walk past your reflection as if you never saw
They walk through time as if time weren’t there
They know you would never aproach them
They know you would never dare.

They walk through the glass and look straight ahead,
They know nothing lies ahead, yet they know they can not turn back,
So they walk into nothing instead,
Passing you so all you see is their back.

You pause infront of the glass looking looking past,
You know that you shall not join them you know it is not your fate
You think about the footsteps you take, wondering which shall be your last,
You walk on again only thinking of their fate

Their faces emotionless the souls so cold,
You think of how you own skin feels, so warm,
You watch as the move like action figures made from a mold,
All the same, all waiting out the storm

The storm of life, the storm of death,
You walk along side them as they walk past everyone,
They watch ahead never turning, never looking above,
They turn to noone.

You walk along beside them as they take no notice to lifes dance,
They only walk past, walk through the mirrors of fate,
Kepping one great stance,
You watch people finding their fate.

Their faces so still, alone in the world, without hope
You watch them walk on, you watch them pass
You see their unmoving faces, as they walk up the endless slope
They walk along, behind the glass.

You turn to watch as their souls move on,
You reach out your hand to touch the glass,
Only to feel the glass is gone,
You watch as your hand passes through the glass.

As you hand melts through one by one the spirits turn,
One takes your hand and pulls your arm through,
More spirits feel your presence and more turn,
They watch as you melt through.

You watch your world leave as you leave it,
You have found you fate and not you are here along with them,
They walk on as you pull your body through, leaving behind the sweater of life you knit,
You have come and joined them.

You look back at the mirror to look at your face,
And you see your eyes becoming lost,
As you enter their race,
The race that shall never end, the race through eternity, for now you are lost

You skin feels so cold you face feels so hard,
You walk with them, as one
As you emotions turn hard,
In true time you are done.

You walk with them, walk alone
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
As everything becomes an endless drone,
For now you are here to stay.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John The Odd

With other children games he did not play
When they played football he would steal away
To take short walk or rest in shade of tree
He felt happy in his own company.

He did not have sporting hero as a god
And other children called him 'John the odd'
And other put down names like idiot and fool
But he ignored their taunts and kept his cool.

He loved Nature and Nature was his friend
And his leisure hours out with Nature he spend
And 'twas Nature first taught him to be a poet
And to her children his first rhymes he wrote.

He wrote of Nature's creatures living free
The birds of song who live on bush and tree
The animals that live on land and sea
He loved Nature and her huge family.

From their schooldays men recall John the odd
They say he went to join his Nature God
One morning he left home for far away
And none know of his whereabouts today.

With other boys he did not play football
And those who went to school with him recall
That with Nature he spent his leisure time
And 'twas Mother Nature who taught him how to rhyme.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Were I Born With

Were I born with the gift of poesy I'd write of the beauty I see
The unrivalled beauty of Nature that is everywhere around me
I'd pen my songs to Mother Nature I've loved her since I was a boy
From her people are always learning and lessons from her I enjoy,
I belong to the Goddess of Nature and she is the one I adore
Each day my love for her grows greater I love her now as never before
I feel humans belong to Nature and to her we'll return one day
In the coolness of her dark earthy bosom our remains are destined to lay
So many have great love for Nature and they love her far more than I
They fight to save her trees from deevelopers and they will fight for her until the day that they die
To them she is the one true Goddess yet people like her Seasons come and go
But she is the one who lives forever and her rivers to her oceans flow
were I born with the gift of poesy of Nature I surely would write
her sights and sounds and the scents of her perfume to the senses a source of delight.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deserted Sidewalks

As I walk along the roads in dead of night,
I see nothing and no one, save deserted sidewalks,
Where people used to laugh and talk
And play and walk, in times of day.
But now in times of night where I walk alone,
Save with my loyal trusted companion,
Who asks nothing more than to be with me,
And to smell the scents, that abound at night.
Far different from the smells that abound in day.
The night is silent, save for the slight swish of our clothing,
And the faint tinkle of our jewellery,
And these sounds are borne along on the slight night breeze,
Peculiar only to this time, and this dimension.
This time is ours, a freedom borne of space,
And the silent parked cars, that tell the tale,
Of others not so far away, that slumber now,
As we awake, and come alive to run with Energies,
That only we can see and hear.
For when daylight comes around once more,
And all those weary travellers return again,
To struggles only they can tell of,
But won't, for they believe this is their fate,
And silently, with faces straight as pokers,
Trudge their weary way through life, as it is to them.
But you and I, we know different, for we are snug,
In the arms of an Energy and a space,
That they as yet cannot access.
So we sleep, the sleep of inner knowledge, and wait once more,
For the circle to turn again, when we will walk the sidewalks,
So deserted, not to us, for we see what the other eye does not,
And the other ear cannot hear.
So we walk deserted sidewalks on our own for many a year.
And wait for the awakening of souls,
Who as yet know not they sleep.
And they slumber still.

poem by Rosi Caswell
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Past Tense

long, long time ago
in the past tense of my life
there was once a rosey rose
with a beauty sharper than a knife
spoiled by every dropp of rain
on her petals so reddish as blood
playful in such childish vain
though never she had to leave her bud