Long Forest Poems
Long Forest Poems. Below are the most popular long Forest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forest poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel like I have no voice
Want to scream but its not my choice
All my thoughts in my head
Make me wish I was dead
Death would be easy, no more pain
But what it would do would cause a strain
It would destroy the people that I love
It would mean they won and that would suck
Trapped in my body I want to get out
My legs wont move , I have my doubts
Whirlwind going in my mind
The real me becoming hard to find
Teeth clenched all day long
New lines on my face like they belong
My whole body is tense and weak
Just a good night's sleep is all I seek
I have some fight left that is true
But I'm unsure I will make it through
I need to get through the forest
I need to get through by being honest
The honest truth is I don't feel sane
This relapse doesn't feel the same
Usually I pull through quickly
This time though I'm only sinking
Reality is hard to find
Sanity is hard to define
Hallucinations now part of my day
The voices though need to go away
Body aches like the flu
I don't know how I'm making it through
I need a reprieve, even for the night
I need to reset to make it right
Medication may be the answer
Maybe then there will be less to suffer
I pray to God every day
That this mania will go away
So do I scream or do I stay quite
Do have a breakdown and cause a riot
All these things I want to do
But first I need to start anew
A silent scream before I go
A silent scream while my mood is so low
A silent scream to make it right
A silent scream before I resume this fight
Darkness seeps through stately pines,
outside this home-made, tar-paper shack.
It’s two AM, and I cannot sleep again,
so I gaze out into the black.
I feel a relaxing sense of peace,
and while it may be no normal thing,
I’ve always found the embrace of night
to be strangely comforting.
Came up with my brother and a mutual friend,
tomorrow is this year’s opening day.
The tree-stands have long been built,
waiting for deer to come their way.
My family’s owned the land fifty years,
grandpa built this three-room hut,
and he chose well because this land
has yielded some monster bucks.
I know every inch of the acreage,
all one hundred eighty-nine,
but night’s stillness brings me back
to a different place and time.
Starring into the darkness,
familiar landmarks shaded and gone,
makes you wonder what hides behind
every single leaf and frond.
Is Bigfoot lurking in the dim,
staring with almost-human eyes?
Is the ghost of a murdered pioneer
still haunting where he died?
Is a trapper dressed in furs about
to step out and hail the house?
Will an Indian come in to trade,
wanting blankets for fresh-killed grouse?
Will spirits of an ancient time
let loose with unearthly wails?
Will a forgotten hermit soon emerge
to tell us the old forest tales?
Does Wendigo stalk amongst the trees,
desperate for a taste of flesh?
Do skin-walkers wander endlessly,
unable to gain a needed rest?
These things were once very real,
when my eyes were only young.
Now they’re impossible to envision
after the rising of the sun.
But sometimes in the still of night,
when I come up to this place,
the legends and monsters walk again,
and it puts a smile upon my face.
I entered paradise through the elaborate crevices in my mind
Meditation was the door to the place I had never visited before
I entered a forest and was overwhelmed by the jungle canopies.
The infinite sky was blurred by the overhanging leaves
There is beauty in your psyche
Silence blanketed any semblance of my emptiness
hyper vigilant to the wilderness
my ballet soled shoes touched upon the leafy cushioned path
I found myself kneeling with my finger tips cupped at a glistening pond
Experienced the one and only moment of inner peace
I looked over to my right, and saw a tiger drinking beside me in the moonlight
His wide eyes bore into mine as his sand paper tongue dipped into the surface like a quill to
ink
the droplets of liquid silver dripped from his cheeks
It was a moment of compassion, serenity, and harmony
Guardian of tranquility
I acknowledge the gift of insight my brain has concocted today
Shift on my yoga mat, prepare to get lost once again by the power of my thoughts
Inhale, and exhale..
Inhale and exhale
Until my breathing becomes a vehicle
Or rather a spaceship To that fantasy
I am the only adventurer
That has ever ventured to this place
My mission to find my spirit guide
Is my only purpose as my instructor states
Entering the dark entrance to a cave
I called upon my inner conscience asking it what it wants from me
I struggled to concoct the form of it’s shape
It twisted and contorted
From a rabbit to a snake
All the meanwhile the smokey spirals fought to embody imagery of my soul
To a dog, and an eagle
Finally it collapsed into a vaporous heap
And rose from the smoldering grave as a neon techni-colored fireless Phoenix mythical bird
It told me to love myself always
And I would be happy here on earth.
In those streets of
buildings projected
by Frank Lloyd and
Corbusier
I dreamed my dry
landscape ...
In those sumptuous
temples full of mystery,
I dreamed of
the little chapel
of St. John ...
At speedy High Ways, I
dreamed
the trails of xique
xique ...
In the gigantic
parks,
of these
megalopolis, I
dreamed
the backyard of the
caatingas ...
In these blown
Mecca,
I dreamed my
shotgun
from punch to
punch ...
In the night clubs of
high society, I
dreamed
Zé Lagoa
homemade ball ...
I confess that I lived
these worlds,
but I never left home ... !
Xique - xique, Piloseceus polygonus
cactus...
Caatinga : area in the northeast of Brazil
semi-arid, scrub forest
Not to mention…
My life felt like I was falling apart
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
I felt like life fell apart…because I didn’t take heart
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
Regret less…
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
In this emotional mess…
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
Reject the tears I shed
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
Putting myself to bed…
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
I’m lost in California’s forest
My life…my life…
The strife…the strife…
I couldn’t…handle…
You blew me out like a candle
And I’m trying my best
To fUnCtIoN
Feeling the air in a wide endless road,
Driving the highways with a bunch heavy load
Shouting things out in a dusty back seat,
Gazing the seas with massive lot fleet
Breeze from the ocean was what we all smell,
Haunted woods in forest were what we all tell.
We sit like a royal in a luxurious car
Playfully pretending that it was our own car
Treasure this moment that I’ll never forget
Hear different strings of music from a windy fret.
Spend this time with me in an awesome ride
Sooner we can’t do this coz you’ll be a loyal bride.
Feel this moment in an endless road,
It only happens once in our stories of unfold.
Shout out loud while wind sonorously screams
This happy joyride is unforgettably one of my dreams.
Golden soft was the light that swiftly flew,
as whistling rain pelted majestic oaks.
And, the soaked birds began to cry for you
as Nature silently wrapped up its cloaks,
thirsty for coming dawn, so bold and new.
Silver Maples fluttered in the wind
where fast asleep the rabbits hid away;
all the beauty we wish would never end,
the brightened colors of each joyful day,
as Nature's glory flowed out to transcend.
Still, in the silence, a flowing stream sang
a melody of bygone days and stones
skipping from little hands as flat slates sprang
and lent a lilt of laughter to each tone.
Can you taste the winds as the seasons flow?
The comfy scent of wood smoke on the breeze
recalls the snap of pine cones in the hearth
or trudging through forest deep for downed trees
to bring home for a Yuletide's start.
Water, wood, metal, fire, are God’s gifted plan.
Robert Lindley & Debbie Guzzi
Dark gloomy clouds gather on this moonless night
The light a few hours earlier by now has taken flight
A chill fills the air where before it had been so mild
Now the darkness downs the sun no longer smiles
Beside an eerie copse I hear the sounds of a violin
A Gothic maiden she, summons from the dark's within
As the gloomy clouds disperse, black shadows dance
Winged angels of the dark are captured with her trance
From amidst the darkened forest, shapes begin to appear
The chosen from the light, for now their time is near
Hoards of silhouetted shadows descend from the night
Their victims in bloodied frenzy, their eyes pecked on sight
From the dark forest they came, they are never to return
The Gothic maidens tune, has lured their souls to burn
As the new dawns arises, clothes lie in scattered torn
Whilst the army of her dark, welcomes her newly born
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-9.php
As I sit wandering about the south
side of Chicago captured effortlessly
by the tall dandelions watching the
lightening bugs rest on sunken cattails
we often lit them just before the sun
sets over George Washington Carver
campus deep within the forest preserve
over looking the Dan Ryan expressway
just to keep the mosquitoes at bay there
are always so many not even the
swarming dragon flies feasting could
truly silence them I sit pondering away
with my thoughts on the Pullman strike
and the hay market projects writing poetry
in my journal as quiet as a mouse an yet I
always had something to say the orange sky
began to drift as a blanket of stars started
twinkling in a distant over the railroad
tracks I can here the loco motive rolling
down the broken planks-cotton belt
screeching down the steal beams fresh
bread will be served tonight with my
grandmothers famous Sicilian soup
right about now I here her calling my
name Cocoa cocoa put that book
down and get in here for supper it’s
getting dark you know I stuck my
pencil inside my braid and begin
skipping towards the gardens homes
that were actually built 1945 name after
Congressman John Altgeld for war
veterans returning from WWll and their
families there simply was no greater
peace right away I got to roll the lemons
cutting them for fresh lemonade and
begin asking all kinds of questions about
where do the bugs go at night how
do they sleep and why do lightning
bugs come out just before dust then
die out after we catch them and put
them in a jar the rest just vanish my
dad answered all my questions as I
began to drift off to sleep he carries
me upstairs to bed tucks me in removed
my pencil from my braid and
places my journal on my nightstand
dims the light as my mind starts to
dream of my tomorrows adventures
Found from Mexican forests, to Southern Brazil,
The jeweled honeyless bees are very sweet still,
In colors blue, purple, red, gold or a mixture,
Their glossy bodies among the greenery a fixture.
Instead of honey, the male makes fine fragrancy,
And in place of a beehive, is a fancy perfumery,
So as to fascinate his beautiful female intended,
Like the smoky vibrancy of sky when day has ended!
Solitary creatures, they prefer to go it alone,
The male is stingless, but his queen has her own.
A love of blooms is had in common with honeybees,
As they flash and glitter among the emerald trees!