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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Related quotes
Forgotten River
The forgotten river,
Lonely in the thick forest waitinf for your love;
The forgotten river,
Lovely and nicely prepared for your muse in the thick forest;
But, the big ship has now collided on the high seas! !
Maturiy of character,
Along the coast of Italy! !
But, it is an extraordinary thing that someone recommended for you;
For, i am the forgotten river in the thick forest.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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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…
The Vanished
The Vanished
It was not a forest more like a few forgotten trees
by the road, they stood close together as seeking
protection from vandals. Inside the day was dark
and I heard twigs breaking off, but saw no birds or
squirrels. Perhaps it was the spirits of the people
who had lived here but had died out as the forest
gave way to farm land and was reduced to dismal
woods of evergreens that was helpless against
agricultural progress. A way of life, beyond repair,
as a dead language that is but whisper in the wind.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Those bare forests
When I was young, I had gone to this forest,
It was dark, deep and wild,
Like my youth it was full of resources,
I had spent few days there and had learned how the forest life is?
Forest life means survival of the fittest,
I could not find difference between city and forest,
In city too only the fittest can survive else the human who have wore the leather of lethal animal will not let the herbivore animal like us to live.
After twenty years struggling in the city and being tortured by children,
I returned back to the same forest to see its growth,
I could see it was bare, cut by poacher, deforesters,
It had not followed its own rule and the trees which it holds were all ageing like me,
We both were thrown out of the society it was thrown by cutting and I by my own sons.
I and it had the same fate bare with few more ageing hair and trees to be removed.
poem by Sambidhan Acharya
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Farewell Little Bird
Little bird,
why are you so lonely?
Did you not like your home
that I have prepared for you?
Look! it's made of gold!
Can't you see?
I have given you
the nicest place to live
because
you are so dear to me.
Little bird
please sing me a song,
the one
that I have heard from you
the day I saw you in the forest
before I made you mine.
Little bird,
why are you still lonely?
Is my heart for you
not enough?
Do you really want your life
back in the forest? ....
Little bird,
there you are!
now, spread your wings
I'm setting you free.....
Little bird,
I'd rather let you go
and see your happiness,
than keep you beside me
and see your loneliness.
Farewell little bird.
I wish
to hear your song again
......in the forest.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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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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Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt
I never loved you more, ma soeur
Than as I walked away from you that evening.
The forest swallowed me, the blue forest, ma soeur
The blue forest and above it pale stars in the west.
I did not laugh, not one little bit, ma soeur
As I playfully walked towards a dark fate -
While the faces behind me
Slowly paled in the evening of the blue forest.
Everything was grand that one night, ma soeur
Never thereafter and never before -
I admit it: I was left with nothing but the big birds
And their hungry cries in the dark evening sky.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
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The Peverty of The Masses
i have already stopped wondering
why the rivers always leave the forest
proceeding to the sea
emptying all its contents
as the sea bloats itself with all the silt
salt and brownish water
it will always be
and you know that fully well
the sea is, and will always be rich
and yet
it is giving nothing back
to the river to the forest
to the village on top
of the mountain
the people there only dream of fish
and boats
what they eat are their own bare hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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 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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Neon Forest
Im sliding like a lizard on my belly and back
Its a miracle I havent fallen through any cracks
The life on display is trouble for sure
The drugs that I took have made me impure
The neon forest is lighting up
The neon forest is lighting up
My brain
Ive learned some nasty lessons so Im shutting
My mouth
A fury in my gut is spinning me round
And round
To be a total phony is the winning design
When the fabric of life is a horny goldmine
The neon forest is my home
And like a cartoon cat I roam
Where only kids are still alive
And anyway theyre gonna fry
My brain
You can get a weird prize for being adored
You can join the in crowd for being a whore
Although you are lonely you wish for a fence
America takes drugs in psychic defense
You can say what you want but nobodys there
Have you got any money?
Are you anybody?
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
I write these lines upon a sheet of paper
That someone made from what was once a forest
Without much thought (as I suspect) for nature:
Does this not fill my heart with guilty sorrow?
Or is its lifeblood more akin to water
That runs in rivers under cloud and sunshine?
Why am I so affected by the sunshine?
All that I do - whether I read the paper,
Or, being thirsty, drink a glass of water,
Or walk amid the tall trees of the forest,
If there's no sun, my mind is fill'd with sorrow,
And if it shines, gladness is in my nature.
But gladness is not always in the nature
Of all terrestrial things, whether the sunshine
Dispels from my own mind some part of sorrow
For many men and creatures, as the paper
I read informs me, live within a forest
Of woe, and some have not a dropp of water.
One dropp of that mysterious liquid, water,
Would save a living animal, by nature,
Whether it dwelt in pasture or in forest,
However little it received of sunshine,
It cannot be exprest by lines on paper
How marv'llously that liquid quenches sorrow.
How much may we, the lucky living, sorrow,
For those who have been drown'd by cruel water,
The greater part of whom are not on paper
Recorded: but the cruelty of Nature
Alone knows. May their souls in heavenly sunshine
Be rested, and walk peaceful through that forest.
I think that life itself is like the forest,
A dark one, where one knows not whether sorrow
Will come, or else a glade o'erspread by sunshine,
That suddenly becomes a fall of water
That patters down in raindrops, in its nature.
Will those trees bloom or turn to crumpled paper?
I'll use no further paper from the forest:
My nature does not wish for you to sorrow,
But sit by flowing water in the sunshine.
poem by David Mitchell
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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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.
World's Desire
Love, there is a castle built in a country desolate,
On a rock above a forest where the trees are grim and great,
Blasted with the lightning sharp-giant boulders strewn between,
And the mountains rise above, and the cold ravine
Echoes to the crushing roar and thunder of a mighty river
Raging down a cataract. Very tower and forest quiver
And the grey wolves are afraid and the call of birds is drowned,
And the thought and speech of man in the boiling water's sound.
But upon the further side of the barren, sharp ravine
With the sunlight on its turrets is the castle seen,
Calm and very wonderful, white above the green
Of the wet and waving forest, slanted all away,
Because the driving Northern wind will not rest by night or day.
Yet the towers are sure above, very mighty is the stead,
The gates are made of ivory, the roofs of copper red.
Round and round the warders grave walk upon the walls for ever
And the wakeful dragons couch in the ports of ivory,
Nothing is can trouble it, hate of the gods nor man's endeavour,
And it shall be a resting-place, dear heart, for you and me.
Through the wet and waving forest with an age-old sorrow laden
Singing of the world's regret wanders wild the faerie maiden,
Through the thistle and the brier, through the tangles of the thorn,
Till her eyes be dim with weeping and her homeless feet are torn.
Often to the castle gate up she looks with vain endeavour,
For her soulless loveliness to the castle winneth never.
But within the sacred court, hidden high upon the mountain,
Wandering in the castle gardens lovely folk enough there be,
Breathing in another air, drinking of a purer fountain
And among that folk, beloved, there's a place for you and me
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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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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Forest of Wonders
In this forest of wonders
There is a girl walking alone
Walking straight with no direct destination
Questioning herself
Is there anyone out there
Is there anyone that would help her
She keeps on walking in this dark forest
There is no one
No one to call her back
No one want to remind her
No one would dare to speak with her
There, she keeps on walking
Wondering again
Is she alone
In this big forest
Is she alone
Finally she realize
There is no one
No one nearby to help her
No one dare to comfort her
To share her problems
She continue on walking until that FINAL DAY arrive.
poem by Hidayah Yusuf
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