BETWEEN THE LEAVES

magic-spelldust:
“  Invited by Ted Gore
”
Light squeezes between the leaves.
Eyes to the sky serve me best.
Rays cast hot fingers on me.
Sun has passed its daily test.
The circle widens and deepens.
A place to while away the day.
I keep to its...

 

magic-spelldust:

Invited by Ted Gore

 

Light squeezes between the leaves.

Eyes to the sky serve me best.

Rays cast their fingers on me.

Sun has passed its daily test.

The circle widens and deepens.

A place to while away the day.

I keep to its rounded corners.

A place I’ve come to love and pray.

 

IT’S ALIVE

lilipilyspirit:
“  Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925
”
The forest grows dark.
It has come alive.
Wooden arms reach for me.
Roots uncurl from the ground.
Trees shake and dance
to the moans...

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925

The forest grows dark.

It has come alive.

Wooden arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance

to the moans of the wind.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME

 

 

THE TREE

THE TREE
The tree appears dark and looming.
It could use some proper grooming.
I want to take a walk between its legs,
Growing tall from the ground like giant pegs.
By its rules we must strictly abide.
Imagine the secrets it must hide.
Come walk with...

 

THE TREE

The tree appears dark and looming.

It could use some proper grooming.

I want to take a walk between its legs,

Growing tall from the ground like giant pegs.

By its rules we must strictly abide.

Imagine the secrets it must hide.

Come walk with me in its deep shade.

Through the fallen leaves we will wade.

A canopy of leaves above our heads

As we fall asleep in our leafy beds.

 

A FALL DAY

A beautiful fall day.
A pebbled path through the red.
Charcoal steps leading up.
Fantasies flow through my head.
The leaves lift off
Until the day turns dark.
I’m trapped inside
A red swirl in the park.
The rain trickles.
The wind cackles.
I flee for...

 

A beautiful fall day.

A pebbled path through the red.

Charcoal steps leading up.

Fantasies flow through my head.

 

The leaves lift off

Until the day turns dark.

I’m trapped inside

A red swirl in the park.

 

The rain trickles.

The wind cackles.

I flee for safety

On raised hackles.

 

The path is gone.

Night has come too soon.

The path is gone.

Lost in the full moon.

 

A FOREST SO GREEN

 

Let’s travel through the forest so green.

A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.

The roots tangle around our feet.

Walking becomes a scary feat.

Neon leaves hit our faces.

A hit every few paces.

I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.

Quicksand my enemy forever more.

HAUNTED FOREST

 

A PATH

A path through the trees.

Past moss and thick vines.

Bushes are shaking.

Animals are scurrying.

Leaves are falling.

Birds are fleeing.

I must get home.

The forest is dark at night.

Too dark to be safe.

I can’t move.

Vines are twirling around my feet.

I’m trapped.

The forest has taken me.

WINTER COLD

 

 

I feel so cold.

Ice is forming on my arms.

What is happening to me?

Why are my leaves drying up?

Ouch.

A cold wind just hit me in the face.

I wish I could hide.

But I’m stuck in place.

Waiting.

And waiting.

I think I fell asleep.

For the sun is out.

My ice is melting.

The breeze is now warmer.

It’s brushing the snow

off my cold arms.

My arms feel less heavy.

Soon it will be spring.

Time for celebration.

I can’t wait to see my

green leaves again.

Birds will return to

sit on my arms.

They will build their nests.

Life will be good again.

Only a few short months left.

I will take another snooze.

See you in the spring.

THE OLD HOUSE

The old house stands alone,
dark and deserted,
on the overgrown lawn.
A wind rustles through the fallen leaves.
The only sound in the dead silence.
No footsteps to break the quiet.
No sounds of life to lift the spirits.
Only the dead for company.
Their spirits walk the house.
No footsteps to break the quiet.
For the dead don’t leave footprints.