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WALK THE NIGHT

plasmatics-life Deactivated
NIGHT WALK

Night Walk – {by Tiina Törmänen} | {Official WebSite}

 

 

Walk the night.

The cold wraps you in a cocoon

filled with the fresh scent of snowfall.

Listen as the snow falls.

It brushes the ground and branches

with a white brushstroke against a dark canvas.

Look to the twinkling stars.

Bright spots dodge grey clouds

to peek at the dusted ground below.

Snowflakes mist your hair

and land on your tongue.

Take a deep breath.

Engage your senses.

Walk the night.

 

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.

DISTANT MEMORIES

 

 

Why are we removed from nature?

The moon retreats.

The stars keep their distance.

Trees and grass hide from sight.

The ice caps recede daily.

Soon they will only be memories

Of better times lived in the past.

What will remain?

The destruction we have wrought.

FANTASY

FANTASYI dream of a placeWhere time stands still.Petals fly from trees,A pink hue cast on all.Climb the stairs to the castle,Where fantasies come to life.The warm breeze carries musicOn swirling rainbows of light.Pretty maidens dance in circlesAround the courtyard of flowers.Men become drunk on gigglesAnd flirty stares cast their way.Who is the ruler of this paradise?It is I, the dreamer of dreams.

(Source: sennenkoi)
FANTASY
I dream of a place
Where time stands still.
Petals fly from trees,
A pink hue cast on all.
Climb the stairs to the castle,
Where fantasies come to life.
The warm breeze carries music
On swirling rainbows of light.
Pretty maidens dance in circles
Around the courtyard of flowers.
Men become drunk on giggles
And hide away in their towers.
Who is the ruler of this paradise?
It is I, the dreamer of dreams.
 

IT’S THE SEASON

 

 

IT’S THE SEASON

The petals fall fast and furious.

The bare trees watch the fallen.

Limbs shivering in the coming cold.

Pink tears of surrender coat the ground.

As seasons come and go.

Yearning for their lost children.

They lift scraggly arms to the sky.

Prayers will soon be answered,

As seasons come and go.

Coats of white land on their branches.

Night falling all too soon.

Shivers dislodge the packed ice.

Leaving them bare once again.

They lift weary eyes to the sky.

As seasons come and go.

A warm wind caresses their arms.

Eyes open to sprouting buds.

Green and pink sweaters for spring.

Their children have returned.

As seasons come and go.

 

THE LAST TREE

 

 

I face the wind

Each day I wait

As time passes

People come and go

Trees fall

Dying animals cry

Buildings replace rolling hills

Fewer trees dot the landscape

Polluted water fills the oceans

Mankind has made drastic changes

Stop before it’s too late

I refuse to be the last tree standing

RED LACE

AN INDIGO MIST

WHO GOES THERE?