Where trees once stood, old wood, no good,
the whole forest fell to new homes.
Now real estate contracts require
the planting of at least one tree.
FOREST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the trees whisper low
of ancient wisdom, secrets
language of the wind
ancient trunks stand tall
gnarled and twisted and ageless
wisdom in their bark
Her house is hidden deep inside
where most will never go
Beyond where little children play
and wild strawberries grow
It’s camouflaged with plants and vines
she uses in her spells
A pentagram adorns her door
with silver antique bells
The people say the witch’s brews
all have some magic powers
She makes them with the plants she grows
and oils from special flowers
Some of this and some of that
the mystery remains
Her tangled web of secret plants
grow stronger when it rains
The people from the nearby town
all purchase her home brews
For health and love and longer life
which ever they might choose
At first newcomers don’t believe
her potions really work
And drink a few to get along
but always with a smirk
And then one day they ask a friend
to take them to the gate
So they can get a bottle too
Because they’re feeling great
Bite Size Contest no123 Poetry Contest
FOREST QUEEN
As ash the oak remembers the kiss of the flame.
Fallen branches remember the wind’s caress.
The bark is armor hardened by time.
Her leaves hum lullabies for the sun.
Beneath her boughs, the breeze begins to breathe.
She stands. She waits. She grows. She knows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
serenity's hushed song
wooded forest beckons
clothed in green, great arms wave,
benediction of leaves
their embrace welcoming
pulse of woods beneath me
peace—slow, unfolding grace
FOREST SOULS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
burst of vibrancy
leaves amber, peach, and crimson
late autumn harvest
a time of serenity
forest souls sparking to life
SILENT FOREST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silent forest deep
ancient secrets guarded, kept
mossy paths unfold
the past whispers, tales told
nature's wisdom to behold
masqueraded as you like it
most cleverly wooed under a suitor's guise
played up most compelling disguise
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
HERMIT’S FIRE IN THE FROZEN MEDIEVAL FOREST
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wind, a teeth-chattering dirge
through skeletal branches,
finds no purchase on the small flame.
He built it low, a secret
whispered to the snow-laden earth,
a defiant ember in the kingdom of ice.
Years bleed into seasons here,
marked only by the shrinking woodpile,
the lengthening beard, the deepening lines
etched by firelight and solitude.
He remembers faces,
ghosts flickering in the flames,
loves lost, battles fought,
a life traded for this quiet burn.
The forest breathes around him,
a vast, indifferent lung.
He is a mote, a spark,
yet the fire persists,
a stubborn refusal to surrender
to the long, cold night.
And perhaps, he thinks,
as the embers glow,
that is enough.
Just to burn.
Just to be.
If a tree falls in the forest,
And nobody is there to hear it,
Does it even make a sound?
And if I'm screaming out for help,
And nobody is ever going to listen,
Did I even have a voice?
Marjorie Moose, with her chandelier crown,
found twelve ducklings just wandering down.
No mother in sight, no map in their beaks
just confused chirps and moss-covered cheeks.
She took them to a pond shaped like a spoon,
where frogs sang jazz beneath the moon.
She taught them to nap in a thistle-made bed,
While squirrels served pines and soup in a shed.
But one day the sky sent a postcard of rain,
Signed by a breeze from the mushroom terrain.
Then Mama Duck swooped from a cumulus cloud,
and all the ducklings chirped, absurdly loud.
“We love you, Moose Mum!” then gave her a hug,
and a necklace of gum from a raccoon’s tree rug.
Now legends say in the forest of blue,
babysitters have hooves and hearts too.
He's a visual fusion of forest and inner flame,
A radiant pulse of abundance,
Clad in crafted clothing of galore,
Stitched in autumn tones from folklore.
He wears leaves of distinction, orange embers,
Yellow citrine, and emerald green.
He nurtures the woodlands in newborn sunrays
That fall through the morning haze,
Striking the heart where his roots belong,
Enhancing the mind with crystal clear gleam.
Twinkling truths highlight his daydreams.
The Green Man dances readily,
Saged in spirals for centuries,
Giving journeymen paths to fae lights,
Readily twisting around flowers, foliage, and sprites,
Stretched in sacred homage.
Breath in breeze
Body entwined with trees
By myth decreed
By birthright and galore
Wanderer between roots and stars forevermore.
When facing a wall of fear and pain, I stand.
Laughing, as hope and calm slip from my hand.
I climb tree branches, easily, swiftly and timely.
Each thread a steady beam that holds me upright.
Up in the canopy, I cheer up, and start to sing,
A hymn of praise that only being there can bring.
I rise higher, holding trunk and bough with delight.
Each fork a foothold lifting up into the light.
I rejoice in the chaos of tangled twigs and leaves,
That encases me with living walls, roofs and eaves.
Their whispered voices rustle solace in the breeze.
Bringing peace and joy, untangling my spent unease.
A careless slip — I lose my grip and start to slide.
But the tree clutches me, with a sudden, saving guide.
It breaks my fall and sets me softly onto the ground,
Its roots bear and steady me — till deep peace is found.
Autumn is near ......a wild unbroken spirit
slumbers in the wind
Countless leaves tremble
ready to tumble
in ragged disarray,
Radiant light gathers
spreads it's amber glow
at a silent signal -
forest treasures flow
leaf gold confetti in
unfettered flight.
In a forest seen
A beautiful scene
Of the tall trees spread
Lots of greenery
Spread for the creatures
The forest is their home
For the birds to dwell
The squirrels live here to
So does other animals
Live in the forest
The forest has beauty
With running water
The forest gives them
The shelter they need
By Mother nature
Related Poems