Dense Is The Forest That Grows
Dense Is The Forest That Grows
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Tuesday, April 19,2011, @ 2: 01 PM
This is what I take issue
The trees are blocking a spectacular sea view
One must see what they are getting themselves into
Vegetation towering you cannot even see-through
Dense is the forest that was let go
Leaving no trails to even follow
Concealing its precious cargo
Jungles thicker than those found in the Congo
A machete is desired to blaze a course
Foot trails are required to lead back to the source
Deforestation I would surely endorse
The forest is impenetrable and way too coarse
So many ferns it seems unreal
Pampered lawns would be more ideal
To worship the king bows and kneels
Tended fields beauty reveals
So difficult to enjoy a hot meal
Wetlands excessively thick blocks the feel
To me this has no appeal
To find the pot of gold is an ordeal
A landing strip should point to the subway
Sculpted gardens fingers must play
Made so easy to have my own way
The DJ pumps the sounds of sweet reggae
So tell me, what are you really all about?
Is it that it’s still just too cold out?
Winter’s garment you’re still wearing
Your front lawn needs better caring
Take off your fleece and stay awhile
Reveal to me that gorgeous smile
Expose that astonishing profile
I promise I’ll make it worthwhile
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Related quotes
Small hole
I tried to dig the small hole
Could not make it out as whole
It was not difficult at all
But it was unwarranted call
The defense shield is like full cover
No one can think to penetrate ever
Still it is wroth to try and break the defense
The road can lay open even if forest is dense
Many lives are lost in probing the unknown land
You meet with hostile reaction from even friends
It is never given a free hand to have an easy access
It is in fact crucial and difficult phase
It is challenge and must be accepted
Somewhere lacuna can be found out and preempted
The risk may always be there to be bound you by thought
But the battles are never won without being fought
This is old concept and still relevant in present day
One gets whole review before deciding the way
It may not only be in depth preparation to meet the threat
But to counter and neutralize it when salutation arises to meet
It is not an easy task to make inroad in difficult terrain
It makes all the more difficult in rain
Whatever may be the difficulties and hurdles?
They have to be sorted out in deep forest or jungles
If one sees no reason or danger from any quarter?
He must take it as challenge and prepare to barter
It speaks of your great ability to counter and move
There has to be left behind nothing to remove
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Save Forests and Rare Species
The Franklin forests are extinct;
These trees of beauty are now rare;
No more are they found in the wild;
Their fragrant flowers tempt a child!
Last seen in 18 zero3,
By Altamaha river-side –
A deciduous tree or shrub,
It grows upto a twenty feet.
With leaves that change color by fall,
Its snow-white flowers are showy;
With golden yellow stamens free,
It is now grown in pots from seeds!
But nothing like the forests wild
Of Franklin trees that grew on own;
You could not find a path through them –
Home to wild animals many.
How Nature rears a forest dense!
–The secrets, no man deciphers;
The way they flourish in the wild,
No gardener can do like-wise!
As man destroys more forest trees,
For want of newer farming land,
Wild wondrous trees then cease to be,
And other species vanish too.
Deforestation is a crime
That has gone uncontrolled with time;
Rare species of trees, shrubs and beasts
Have been effaced from earth with ease.
The earth has lesser green cover!
’Tis growing bald, much more each day,
As forest trees are felled for wood,
At rates more than we ever should.
World’s rain-forests are turning scarce –
A cause of global-warming fast;
Landslides and floods are dangers new;
More species turn something of past!
Trees extract carbon-dioxide,
And make the air less polluted;
Wild beasts are on the rampage when
Their forest habitats are gone.
Save forests and afforest, man;
The clouds bring rain when trees ask for;
Wild beasts need forests for their homes;
Preserve forests in ways you can.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-23-2008
poem by John Celes
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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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Nowhere To Be Seen
The flying bird is up high in the sky to take a view,
But my lover is nowhere to be seen;
So take a message to my lover if you find her,
For in the thick forest i rest my head.
The green vegetation is around me and the blue sky above me!
Oh, how i hope that you would find her;
For this thick forest is my lonely place,
But maybe this flying bird could find her one day.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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Ode To Somrit Mellers
Ode To Somrit Mellers
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Wednesday, February 16,2011 @ 11: 12 AM
My feelings for you are endless
I bear my soul to you in its bareness
Words cannot ever mention
in your arms I find redemption
We are the perfect duet
I thank god the day we met
Over you I am obsessing
You are truly a magnificent blessing
A love so amazingly real
You have that certain sex appeal
There is no better way to spend my days
I cherish you now, here forth, and always
If I was granted only one wish
I would make all your pains vanish
A world without you I want no part
To you I have given my very heart
Even though we are at a distance
You remain my sole existence
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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The Crow And The Doe
Again and again the wise ol’ crow said to the sweet, young doe,
“Don’t play by the winding brook since that’s where hunters go.”
But sweet, young doe said, “I love to play by this gentle stream.
As I drink its cool water, I see how pretty that I seem.
While I’m there, I’ll be watchful and be careful as I can.
Besides, the many times I’ve played there I’ve never seen a man.”
Wise ‘ol crow frowned, pointing his wing as he quickly said,
“Innocent, sweet young doe, you won’t see hunters; just feel their lead.
You may drink the water and watch yourself while you’re having fun
Though from my perch I can see hunters and each one has a gun.
Please stay deep in the forest where no man or gun will go.
Play with your friends and have fun, but always let your mother know.”
Well, sweet, young doe had other ideas of what would be fun to do.
She thought, “Since I’m now two year old, I’ll try something new.”
There was fun and lots food for the taking at a farm far down stream.
To play with calves, piglets and chicks was almost too much to dream.
So off went young doe and her friends, laughing and singing at will,
“With our new buddies we’ll eat farm food till we’ve all had our fill.”
As they headed toward the creek, young doe recalled what ‘ol crow said
About telling her mother where she was going and feeling hunters lead.
But she knew if she asked her mother, the answer would sure be “No”.
So why ask because she was big now and had already decided to go.
Ol’ crow’s warning about those hunters just didn’t make sense.
As they went farther than before, the forest suddenly became dense.
They came to a fork in the stream; one was right and the other wrong.
Smiles changed to tears as a whimper replaced sweet young doe’s song.
“We’re lost deep in the forest. Oh, how I wish my mother were here.
She’d know what to do so that we’d be safe with nothing to fear.”
A sharp noise, then another, cracked in the forest as does started to cry.
“Please protect us from hunter’s lead. We’re much too young to die.”
As luck would have it, the wise ol’ crow was keeping watch from above.
As the does trembled and cried, he swooped in with his message of love.
“I’ve watched you learn from the good things and errors you’ve made.
So again learn from these mistakes and never be afraid to
Seek advice from family and friends, especially experiences of another,
Like the one who just arrived. I believe that’s your loving mother! ”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Sublime Smiling Face
SUBLIME SMILING FACE
(Inspired by Lisa Casagrande)
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, (Deh Bagwa Shashmani Swami) , Tuesday, October 27,2009, @ 11: 00 AM
Through the daily monotony and rat race
There’s nothing more alluring than the smile on your face
From my memories you I cannot erase
Your smile is like a cozy affectionate embrace
Your flawlessness cannot be replaced
So gorgeous your eye-catching smile should’ve been showcased
My steps backwards to you I shall retrace
More precious you are than documents in God’s briefcase
Your radiant smile takes me back to my birthplace
To Caribbean seas I’ve packed my bags and my suitcase
Passion fruit, Coconuts, pineapple, and drinks mango based
Incognito to Hedonism Resorts Jamaica we’ll be effaced
Your delicate smile takes me to a special someplace
I can be found somewhere between time and space
Precious you are like a 12th century Chinese vase
Gleaming are my eyes, as your exquisite figure stands unadorned by the staircase
Squeezing you tight on white sands for I am the scapegrace
Skin so soft to the touch for you taste sweeter than sucrase
On a Darken beach I lay as my garments now you unlace
In the distance sweet Jam Rock reggae plays to drum and bass
Vanished now are all my woes in Montego Bay without a trace
Snuggled I am drifting away in Dunn’s River Falls in a chaise
To be in Negril in the presents of your ravishing smile I’ll make haste
You till the end of time your stunning smile I’ll chase
All suitors I will outpace
All men I will outrace
I’ll place a no fly zone around your airspace
A million eunuch to guard you just in-case
In diamond and gold box your lovely smile I’ll encase
Forever I’ll dwell in your loving grace
Your statuesque smile of love I’ll never misplace
All this and more for your sublime smiling face
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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When the Forest Turns Gold
During the nights,
The forest turns gold.
Animals are knights,
And the children are told,
That once they set foot on the floor,
They will be pull.
When the forest turns gold.
This is not lore.
Climbers will be cold,
And the children’s heart would tore.
The children will be told,
That they will never reach the shore,
Until an eclipse peers,
Then the children would be unfold.
When the forest turns gold.
Years after years,
Climbers will be old.
The children will be swamps with fears,
That they will never be old,
Because of the magic that the forest hold.
The climbers hold the children tight.
They would always be hold,
When the forest turns gold.
Perfect Harmony
In a world so far away
At the end of a closing day
A little child was born and raised
Deep in the forest on a hidden place
Mother never saw his face
Ancient spirits of the forest
Made him king of elves and trees
He was the only human being
Who lived in harmony
In perfect harmony
The woods protected, fulfillled his needs
Fruit by birds, honey by bees
He found shelter under trees
He grew up in their company
They became his family
A thousand seasons
They passed him by
So many times, have said goodbye
And when the spirits called out his name
To join forever, forever to stay
A forest spirit he became
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfect Harmony
In a world so far away
At the end of a closing day
A little child was born and raised
Deep in the forest on a hidden place
Mother never saw his face
Ancient spirits of the forest
Made him king of elves and trees
He was the only human being
Who lived in harmony
In perfect harmony
The woods protected, fulfillled his needs
Fruit by birds, honey by bees
He found shelter under trees
He grew up in their company
They became his family
A thousand seasons
They passed him by
So many times, have said goodbye
And when the spirits called out his name
To join forever, forever to stay
A forest spirit he became
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Malaysiana - At the Kapit Jungle Produce Market
the chopped up boa
chunk and chunk
of floral leather
geometric design
of a forest digested
smooth and thinly oiled
each log is a thick
pinkish cold proof of life
the forest was a haven
for the boa that had slithered
its length and breath,
to come out a tough
and marvellous piece
of its habitat
the samba deer stares down
at its own cut out body parts
bleary eyed, otherwise as good as alive
its flesh is a bastion of robust health
tissues that like the boa's
had digested the forest
to reveal its magic forces
its oily shiny brown hair
with traces of yellow
is also a thick jungle of vigour
the animal though
is now chunk after chunk
of heartchilling flesh
soon to greet pots and pans of buyers
i coldly marvel at the ability
of the forest to give rise to
such an admirable velvety ecology
which sadly will be lost at the hands
of its reckless neighbours
people who despite warnings
from the heavens, continue to
snarl earth of its green
leaving patches and patches
of concrete jungles, polluted air and
a near ecological disaster
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Imaginary Creatures
In this make believe world
imaginary creatures dangle from the trees
In a forest where emotions run free
For what they feel they never agree
It`s a future they will never see
In a forest with closed doors
The imaginary creature holds the key
To a future that will never be
So as i walk this forest of make believe
I search no more for what i see
It`s just creatures dangling from the trees
In a life that will be as they see
So i`ll just leave this forest be
And search no more for that key
poem by Joseph Whelan
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Best Friend
My Best Friend
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Thursday, April 8,2010 @ 9: 40 PM
I had a reason once upon a time before
Now we share those reasons no more
Couldn’t figure out what was worth fighting for
Do I still worship her? Yes I am sure
Here is the skinny and the plane truth
In America I had wasted my youth
Can't find any incentives to return at all
Here I can finally stand real tall
I grew tired of being in a pack
Nothing is left to draw be back
I will be back but not just yet
My mind is fluid and not truly set
This is all I can tell so I hope all is well
My true friends my mind does dwell
Spinning my wheels was never too smart
Love ones will always hold a place in my heart
All my friends I miss you so
Fondness more than you’ll ever know
You’ve changed my frown into a smile
You’ve made my existence worthwhile
God placed you in my life for a special reason
You have helped me weathered my worst season
This I say without any reservations
You will hold my greatest admiration's
Not too many I can call a friend
You are truly an angel and godsend
You were there when I felt like dying
You concerns taught me to keep trying
Thank you for you have made me glad
You cared when no one else had
You’re my best friend I do think of
You my cohorts are the ones I do love
True friends I’ve found
No matter the distance I’ll always be around
In an ocean of tears I’ll never let you drown
Your life preserver for I’ll never let you down
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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A family is like a thick forest, often from outside its dense, when your inside each tree has its own position.
Interlude
The air was still and trees in the forest stood in frozen silence.
A rare day, animals listened to the echo of last summer.
Hare trails in the snow made without haste, the persecuted
had nothing to fear on a day when mountain lions dream.
The bear in its den deep under an oak tree, dreamless sleep
whether still or storm, but do not wake him up before spring.
Tranquillity of peace is only a brief interlude, kill or be killed,
eat or starve are wild life’s merciless destiny. Calm cracks as
the cold intensifies; there will be a toll to pay if spring is too
late with its promise of continuity. Behind the forest, where
the blue mountain begins, a pack of wolves howl to the moon,
the soul of hunters lied bare in an endless nocturnal dream.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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If Lost
the vermillion cliffs rise
at an impossible angle
at an implacable distance
home to the hierarchy
of golden eagle and turkey vulture alike
from the top there are no new
trails down - being the pariah plateau
where only the selfinflicted go
& tangle through the brush
of the edgy forest
and nonindigenous manzanita
reminding them they don't belong there
either
if you find yourself lost in trees
do nothing halfheartedly
if paths are to find
they are the age of mankind
they may lead to lower ground
where you will be found by
yourself or some other cliffdweller
why not try
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Three Suns
The sooty hands guide to the black lands,
Where eyed and uneyed do become equal,
And the victims swell priding upon blindness.
How should I praise the Laudable Lord,
Who made me explore the worlds distant,
Where wisdom willingly weeps but love leaps,
When finds opened amazing truths ahead.
Standing at the base of a mountain high,
Saw I the erect tops kissing the skies
That cast thick shade extending to the west;
Grey rocks were bare yet vegetated it was,
With the tall trees and grass green.
Neither hot nor cold was the climate,
As we feel in the month of March,
In the plain of five flowing waters,
Freshening minds of the depressed souls,
After awakening from the trance of winter.
In front to the west scene enchanted me well,
The tops were clad with the forest dense,
As the northern peaks wear green covering,
The idle clouds floated with the slow move,
Some dark, some were like flakes of cotton,
Still un-ravished by the touch filthy hands,
As monsoon winds drift in the month of August;
Passed through being fondled with the gentle waft,
Some clang still against the rising tops,
Seemed whispering the secret brought from
The world above, high up, to impart.
Stunned was I to find the seasons four
Of Indian plains, blended into one great,
Behind the mountain then found uprising lights,
Glares reflected on the rim-like crest.
Curiosity made me run, and in haste I ran,
To see the brightening source of radiance,
Mounted I in front on the vantage top,
And saw the sight that suspended my wisdom frail.
Ah! Easy is it to speak but hard is to imagine,
Three suns were ascending with perceptible move,
In row, of equal size and brightening blaze,
Much bigger, brighter than the Sun of the Earth,
That shines in the Asian skies in June,
The outer rims were almost touching one another.
Below then I found a crowed of men,
Some sat on cots; some were entertaining the guests,
One escorted me to have my own share,
Then I return to the sweet-fake world of assumed reality,
The next morn ah! I learnt a thing woeful,
My Master, my Guide, the Source of sight,
Departed to the zone of eternity leaving behind,
Three sons to spread around the light of faith.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Sarah's Deer Raindancer
Raindancer is a deer with fur as white as snow
she lives in the woods and doesn't mind the cold.
For Raindancer has gorgeous thick wavy hair
she is very fast and glides through the air.
Raindancer nibbles on berries her favorite color
she eats them up during the warmth of the summer.
Sarah Star knows Raindancer is very smart
Sarah's words comes directly from her heart.
Sarah loves to walk with Raindancer when it's warm,
Raindancer roams in Ferronian forest towards the north.
Raindancer will meet a lot of forest friends around here
all the animals of the Ferronian forest are in good cheer.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on January 8,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Some Just Don't Have A Clue
Some Just Don't Have A Clue
Written by: Wilfred Charles Mellers, Saturday, February 25,2012,8: 44 PM
Some can't face it so they fight it
Some can't get over it so they get under it
Some can't stand in front of it so they stand behind it
Some can't stand next to it so they have to stand obliquely by it
Some can't understand it so they dismiss it
Some can't feel it so they can't vibe to it
Some want it but just can't have it
Some have it but just don't want it
Some are in disbelief so they are frighten by it
Some are in amazement and want to be a part of it
Some are captivated and embrace it
Some get high by it yet not understand the message of it
Some are freed by it for their mind has been enslaved
Some can empathize with its movements
Some are disillusioned and find redemption in it
Some find a greater understanding by it
Some try it and find they like it
Some hate it for they didn't create it
Some mimic it but can't feel it
Some worship it and then curse it
Some have to nurse it
Some have to rehearse it
Some are spoiled by it
Some take advantage of it
Some jumped on the bandwagon on it
Some fall off the wagon on it
Some just can't play the game of it
Some abandon it after reaching the fame of it
Some find hope in it
Some find joy in it
Some find love in it
Some find their dance in it
Some want to tune in and tune out by it
Some find their religion in it
Some find peace in it
Some find what they have been looking for in it
Some find themselves
Some lose themselves
Some regain themselves
Some just don't have a clue
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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