INTO THE WOODS

 

atraversso:    Beautiful  by Kevin Russ     The woods are mysterious.  Who knows what lurks inside  the dark shadows?  Are there spirits or ghosts?  Evil waiting to pounce on  unsuspecting victims?  Or maybe there’s just beauty  and warmth.  And maybe a deer or two.atraversso:    Beautiful  by Kevin Russ     The woods are mysterious.  Who knows what lurks inside  the dark shadows?  Are there spirits or ghosts?  Evil waiting to pounce on  unsuspecting victims?  Or maybe there’s just beauty  and warmth.  And maybe a deer or two.atraversso:    Beautiful  by Kevin Russ     The woods are mysterious.  Who knows what lurks inside  the dark shadows?  Are there spirits or ghosts?  Evil waiting to pounce on  unsuspecting victims?  Or maybe there’s just beauty  and warmth.  And maybe a deer or two.atraversso:    Beautiful  by Kevin Russ     The woods are mysterious.  Who knows what lurks inside  the dark shadows?  Are there spirits or ghosts?  Evil waiting to pounce on  unsuspecting victims?  Or maybe there’s just beauty  and warmth.  And maybe a deer or two.atraversso:    Beautiful  by Kevin Russ     The woods are mysterious.  Who knows what lurks inside  the dark shadows?  Are there spirits or ghosts?  Evil waiting to pounce on  unsuspecting victims?  Or maybe there’s just beauty  and warmth.  And maybe a deer or two.atraversso:    Beautiful  by Kevin Russ     The woods are mysterious.  Who knows what lurks inside  the dark shadows?  Are there spirits or ghosts?  Evil waiting to pounce on  unsuspecting victims?  Or maybe there’s just beauty  and warmth.  And maybe a deer or two.atraversso:

 

The woods can be much too dark,

more than a walk in the park.

They can hold secrets so deep

you can see them in your sleep.

The trees can hide the bright sunlight

with shadows lurking in the night.

I wander between the trees,

someone find me, pretty please.

I will make a bed on the forest floor.

I hope nothing knocks at my woodsy door.

Dark surrounds me like a spoon.

I’m soon wrapped in its cocoon.

ICE COLD

 

 

The landscape is cold and bleak.

I’m beginning to feel weak.

 

Ice is melting in my shoes.

I’m getting the winter blues.

 

I can’t find my way from here.

I had thought the town was near.

 

I’ve been walking for days.

I’m in some kind of daze.

 

There’s a break in the rocks ahead.

I hope they don’t leave me for dead.

 

My friends have to come back to me.

Rocks and trees are all I can see.

 

My friends are in the park playing ball.

I didn’t have to be afraid at all.

TRAPPED IN HELL

lilipilyspirit Deactivated

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

 

The forest grows dark.

It comes alive.

Wood arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance.

As the wind moans.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

 

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

SLEEP FOR THE WEARY

 

 

SLEEP FOR THE WEARY

 

The sun peeks through

a canopy of trees.

A blanket of color

protects me with leaves.

I’m sheltered with

soft petals of pink.

Like velvet sheets

splattered with ink.

A bed in the petals

offers rest for the weary.

I give a sigh of contentment

as my eyes grow teary.

THE PATH

THE GREEN

 

 

The green hides inside

With unspoken pride.

It comes at night,

Growing in might.

A fine mist falls first

As trees drink from thirst.

They swallow the green whole

By forming a deep hole.

As the fairies alight on leaves,

I need out of here, pretty please.

NEW BEGINNINGS