THE FALLEN

Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton

 

 THE FALLEN

 

Tree branches bend,

scarred by age.

Beaten by the storm,

many hit the ground

amid piles of leaves.

Without a proper burial,

no one mourns their loss.

The fallen won’t be forgotten

as replacements take root

in the shade of the tall trees.

Sunshine filters through the forest,

lighting the way for the future.

Advertisements

MOTHER EARTH

 

 

 

Red is the grass beneath me.

Dry is the air I must breathe.

Roots spiral from my battered core.

The earth will shelter and protect me.

I will flourish in this forsaken place.

TRAPPED IN HELL

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 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.

QUICKSAND

 

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.

FACES TO THE SKY

1 Faces to the sky

 

Faces to the sky.

Lift them way up high.

Smiles so bright and wide.

You’ve nothing to hide.

Yellow hair to the sun.

It’s time to have some fun.

Long, green leaves clap to the song.

This morning, nothing is wrong.

Deep roots rumble in the ground.

To a beat, you’ve lost and found.

A field of dancers shakes the earth.

I watch as I bubble with mirth.

 

 

 

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

 

 

NO WAY OUT

 

 

Lost in a field of daisies.

Falling between the stalks.

Covered by their leaves.

Pulled down by their roots.

Darkness buries me.

Dirt envelopes me.

Illusion becomes reality.

A nightmare becomes hell.

No way out for me.

Only the faces of daisies.

 

THE DEAD love their games.

THE DEAD GAME

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP  

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

(Source: vwcampervan-aldridge)

 

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.