Invaders Of My Space
Invaders of my Space
Overcast morning, silent is my forest. I see no hares,
hear no birds; it is as nature has stopped breathing.
The sheep that walked ahead of me has disappeared,
and sparrows fall like autumnal leaves.
A carob tree appears, it shouldn’t be here, pods like
green fingers. But hang on, they are green fingers.
Martians are waiting to ambush me. I stop, turn and
run back whence I came. The forest is but a memory.
They came, seized the land; we have to pay to walk
its tracks. They have acquired fresh waters’ nascent
and purchased the salty oceans too; drink or sail you
have to pay. Santo, the ogre, is here… no escape.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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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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I Like To Get It Before It's Gone
In the midst of the budding of a birthing Spring.
I stood at the edge of a forest green.
And sought a path to walk through,
When Summer made it.
And the bees would hum,
As the birds did sing.
While I did this one on one,
With Mother Nature doing her 'thing'.
In the midst of the budding of a birthing Spring.
I stood at the edge of a forest green.
And wanted these days to happen.
I love to walk through the park at dawn.
Just to see what's going on.
And breathing clean fresh air everywhere.
I like to get it before it's gone.
Before the noon is born.
When the noises in the air aren't there!
And the bees would hum,
As the birds did sing.
While I did this one on one,
With Mother Nature doing her 'thing'.
In the midst of the budding of a birthing Spring.
I love to walk through the park at dawn.
Just to see what's going on.
And breathing clean fresh air everywhere.
I like to get it before it's gone.
Before the noon is born.
When the noises in the air aren't there!
Or anywhere.
Peace and I,
Choose to be!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic Of Forest
.Nature around me, leaves rustling in the wind,
Dewy green grass in mornings, under my steps,
To breathe deeply the fresh, pure air of forest i enjoy.
I listen the twitter of birds that i so much adore,
I love to walk along rivers,
Blossomed flowers to smell and admire.
I adore the forest, the marvelous trees,
I want to live there forever,
Till the end of my days.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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If Nature Survives
Once upon a time dense forest
Now stands open field with no trees to rest
No green branches and no noise of birds
It has become rare chance for melody to be heard
Where has our cuckoo gone?
Why has she deserted morning tune?
What have we done to her go in exile?
I thought she has lost her refuge for a while
The sparrows have disappeared too
Quite in numbers could be seen through
In window hole or in little hide out
They were happily seen to be heard about
They have gone too and become extinct
Probably to far off places and in interior districts
Now villages too have adopted same way
Little trees and forest is done away
You find no crows, owls or eagles
Sky is seen barren and no formation of love triangles
Nature has turned off its kind eye
Not enough of birds could be seen to fly
Deforestation is on rise and on high side
Gap is apparent and looks very wide
We are doing enough of damage to wild culture
As if we have taken out right control for future
Who to be blamed for this outrageous act?
Earth has tolerated it but so far refused to react
Of late natural calamities are on rise
It may spring anytime big surprise
Large population insects and birds stay in forest
It is their birth place and permanent refuge for rest
We need not disturb ecological balance
Let each tree cut be replaced by more to make it dense
If nature survives we survive too
In defiance we fell apart and disintegrate too
No one can survive long its absence
Nature is our mother and real essence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Fogie forest
The fog is all around me as the tree branches pass my head...
I am running in one direction don't know what's ahead...
I can still hear the water rushing from the river I had passed,
I don't know where I am headed I hope this doesn't last...
I feel like I have passed this place before,
I have seen this tree, and this river bank too.
I stop to hear the trees whisper to me,
One says go left or is it right?
I don't really know, either way it's always night...
I don't know why I was running,
But I have stopped for now...
The fog is getting thiker and I can't see my fingers right now...
I hope I get home soon,
Away from this foggy forest night, and my new cacoon...
poem by Alexandra Greif
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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…
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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Gayas Eyes
Gayas crying, cant you hear her crying
Like a whisper, oh so very soft and low
If you listen, underneath the status quo
Will she still be friends and once again
Pardon our ignorance?
Can we make ammends so near the end?
Is there no second chance?
No one hears when gaya cries
No one cares to wonder why
Cant they see the tears in gayas eyes?
Gayas crying (yes she is)
Selfish children, greedy little children
Took her loving and gave her nothing in return
Like invaders, everything is slash and burn
Count up every face and every race
That we will never see
Count the human ache we cant escape
The tears are for you and me
As her lovely green eyes
Turn black
And her pretty blue dress
Turn black
And her gentle red lips
Turn black
Everything that she has
Turn black
And is it too late?
Turn back
Is it too late?
Turn back
Is it too late?
No facts of life, no birds and bees
Cant see the forest, cant see the trees
Oh pitiful capricious lies
That hide the tears in gayas eyes
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ardennes Forest
Cup your hands to scoop up sleep
as you would draw a grain of water
and the forest will come: a green cloud
a birch trunk like a chord of light
and a thousand eyelids fluttering
with forgotten leafy speech
then you will recall the white morning
when you waited for the opening of the gates
you know this land is opened by a bird
that sleeps in a tree and the tree in the earth
but here is a spring of new questions
underfoot the currents of bad roots
look at the pattern on the bark where
a chord of music tightens
the lute player who presses the frets
so the silent resounds
push away leaves: a wild strawberry
dew on a leaf the comb of grass
further a wing of a yellow damselfly
and an ant burying its sister
a wild pear sweetly ripens
above the treacheries of belladonnas
without waiting for greater rewards
sit under the tree
cup your hands to draw up memory
of the dead names dried grain
again the forest: a charred cloud
forehead branded by black light
and a thousand lids pressed
tightly on motionless eyeballs
a tree and the air broken
betrayed faith of empty shelters
that other forest is for us is for you
the dead also ask for fairy tales
for a handful of herbs water of memories
therefore by needles by rustling
and faint threads of fragrances--
no matter that a branch stops you
a shadow leads you through winding passages--
you will find and open
our Ardennes Forest
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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Secret of the Sun
Raised by the bare bones of nature’s grace,
my home held hands with the feral forest,
where nature hid her gold.
I have heard palm trees whisper their stories
I have listened to the silent full moon quietly teach
lessons of those who had lived.
I know of the green secrets of the earth
Soft voices of searching roots that sprout forth, cluster
around my hut to tell.
I am from the bowels of Africa,
I understand the tongue of the wild.
I have swayed to the blue songs of humming birds that fill the
tree branches with their nests.
I have had breakfast plucked ripe off the tree
and lunch caught right from the river.
I have aimed a stick in the forest and secured supper.
I am from the bowels of Africa,
where nature’s breast milk flows from palm trees
and every suckle leaves a smile on wrinkled ebony faces.
I am from the bowels of Africa,
I have seen rains held up at the summons of wooden carved gods.
women foretell events of the next day, and men
hear voices of elders long dead.
I am from the bowels of Africa
I am carolled to dreamland by
crickets, frogs and fireflies
that mime nature’s song at night fall
I am from the bowels of Africa,
I am the dark secret held by the sun
Put On Your Green Shoes
Gather round children and you will hear
The sound of a cricket crying in your ear
Thats mother nature, shes crying out loud
This old earth needs some loving now, so
Chorus:
Put on your green shoes
Put on your green shoes
Mother nature, shes calling to you
To put on your green shoes
Put on your green shoes and walk with me
Well go around back and plant a tree
Help it grow and you will see
The way the world was meant to be
Chorus
Wonder how the world would be
Without the shade of a redwood tree
Without all the fish, the birds and the bees
Springtime would be lonely, so
Chorus
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Wall / Green Wall
What comes to my mind when I see a green wall?
A green wall reminds me of the grass so green
And the emerald most rarely seen
A green wall reminds me of the leaves so green
And a forest where I have never been
A green wall reminds me of trees with a lot of shade
And the fresh vegetables kept for trade.
What comes to my mind when I see a blue wall?
It reminds me of the sea so blue
I feel like jumping in it too
A blue wall reminds me of the blue sky
You can’t touch it cause it’s very high
A blue wall reminds me of the deep blue bear
It is very dangerous so beware
A blue wall reminds me of a blue whale
To reach it from the shore you have to sail.
poem by Risha Ahmed
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Canadian Railroad Trilogy
There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun
Long before the white man and long before the wheel
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
But time has no beginnings and histry has no bounds
As to this verdant country they came from all around
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall
And they built the mines the mills and the factories for the good of us all
And when the young mans fancy was turnin to the spring
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day
And many a fortune lost and won and many a debt to pay
For they looked in the future and what did they see
They saw an iron road runnin from sea to the sea
Bringin the goods to a young growin land
All up through the seaports and into their hands
Look away said they across this mighty land
From the eastern shore to the western strand
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails
Open er heart let the life blood flow
Gotta get on our way cause were movin too slow
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
Were gonna lay down the tracks and tear up the trails
Open er heart let the life blood flow
Gotta get on our way cause were movin too slow
Get on our way cause were movin too slow
Behind the blue rockies the sun is declinin
The stars, they come stealin at the close of the day
Across the wide prairie our loved ones lie sleeping
Beyond the dark oceans in a place far away
We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swingin our hammers in the bright blazin sun
Livin on stew and drinkin bad whiskey
Bendin our old backs til the long days are done
We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swingin our hammers in the bright blazin sun
Layin down track and buildin the bridges
Bendin our old backs til the railroad is done
So over the mountains and over the plains
Into the muskeg and into the rain
Up the st. lawrence all the way to gaspe
Swingin our hammers and drawin our pay
Drivin em in and tyin em down
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town
A dollar a day and a place for my head
A drink to the livin and a toast to the dead
Oh the song of the future has been sung
All the battles have been won
Oer the mountain tops we stand
All the world at our command
We have opened up the soil
With our teardrops and our toil
For there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun
Long before the white man and long before the wheel
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
And many are the dead men too silent to be real
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Whose Garden Was This?
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the whose garden was this? album, and has also been released on the changes album.
Whose garden was this
It must have been lovely
Did it have flowers
Ive seen pictures of flowers
And Id love to have smelled one
Whose river was this
You say it ran freely
Blue was its colour
And Ive seen blue in some pictures
And Id love to have been there
Tell me again, I need to know
The forest had trees, the meadows were green
The oceans were blue
And birds really flew
Can you swear that its true
Whose grey sky was this
Or was it a blue one
You say they were breezes
Ive heard records of breezes
And Id love to have felt one
Tell me again, I need to know
The forest had trees, the meadows were green
The oceans were blue
And birds really flew
Can you swear that its true
Whose garden was this
It must have been lovely
Did it have flowers
Ive seen pictures of flowers
And Id love to have smelled one
Tell me again, I need to know
Tell me again, I need to know
Tell me again, I need to know
Words and music by tom paxton
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Escape
I will escape from the built-up city
To the countryside,
Where all around is so pretty
And the fields are green and wide.
I will escape from the traffics and smog
To the nature’s lyrics and a croaking frog.
I will escape from concrete and power lines
To the breathtaking lights and signs,
To the place where field bells ring
And free birds merrily sing;
To the forest where trees are attractive
And are not a city’s captive.
I will listen to the voice of nature
And my life will be a great adventure.
I will walk barefoot to feel the land,
I will touch a stream with my hand.
My joy will have no measures,
Knowing that the world is full of treasures.
I will escape from the bustle of the city
To the wildflowers which look so friendly,
Where the sky is so bright and clean
And I feel myself like in a dream.
And when the night comes,
The starry sky has so much charms,
An internal balance will feel my heart
As our Earth’s nature is really smart.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
9th of May,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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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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Night Through Morning
I rose in the night
walked to the forest
when the morning breezes
blew and the sun rose
I rose in the night
in the darken shadows
I take a rock and stone
and walk through the night
I have stop and took
the forest and walked there.
At nigth I can see the dawn
of the morning
When the morning breezes
I can see the where I always wanted to be
i can feel the wind and refeshing air
blew came and makes me happy
when the morning came
the sun rose when the morning breezes
Refreshing air came, its a beautiful rising
Sun, your my only sunshine in the morning
poem by Hunter Kejick
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fresh green of tall trees
the nature is inviting
slowly sunday walk
travel into the forest
noise behind us remained
tanka by Dagmara Anna AuraDagimar
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Frenzied Fingers Run Amuck
When I get you into my arms
I can't control the things that I do.
Fingers grab the hair on your head.
Fingers caress the small of your back.
Fingers travel down your spine
and back up again.
Fingers reach to all corners of your being,
quietly unnoticed at first,
but more frenzied with passing time.
Wild fingers travel your soul
with frenzied action that is hard to stop.
Uncontrollable fingers run wild
until you beg them to stop.
But even then, there's no counting on it.
These fingers like to run wild.
Whenever I place my fingers on you,
frenzied fingers run amuck.