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Ethan Wood Poem
Crouching in the underbrush
Watching the deer as it runs
Watch them as they drink from the inevitable pool
Run along the trails of sadness
Anger
Jealousy
He sees them grow old
Be recycled
Reborn
They are oblivious to his action
His awe
His beauty
His mane tussles in the breeze
As the wind searched his soul
For weakness
For anarchy
Some way it can frustrate him
But the creature remains still
Watching
Feeling
Knowing
The deer have nothing he needs
He his nothing that they do
Yet he watches and feels
Keeping them in the dark is the best way
Let them figure out for themselves
Let them know
For this is why he birthed the filter
Preventing the glass from shattering
A protective layer if you will
For his children must be safe
And someday they will thank him.
Copyright © Ethan Wood | Year Posted 2017
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Ethan Wood Poem
A silence that's sound is painful
A silence of a demon
Yet it speak of an angel
A silence to be named by it's noise
Heard only by the purest
Yet spoken only by the cloudiest poise
For those that wish it's will upon others
Wish only of the death of ones soul
For the world is that of all different colors.
And one of which blades are not dull.
Copyright © Ethan Wood | Year Posted 2017
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Ethan Wood Poem
If I never was
If I never was to be
Would the birds sound
A mental paradox
Would a tree be
Would any blood flow
would the rivers run
Could any thoughts be held
Or shatter like an imaginary window
Cause the mind to wince at the thought
Would you feel, would the emptiness control you
Conform you, adhere to you
Or would the light be seen
The dragon slain
The damage done.
Would the world spin
Or the darkness parallel to the stars
The feeling, the obsolete nothingness
That consume you
Or the light of day that compel you to run
Run from the danger of falling
Of trampling through a trap of string
A web of consciousness that tie your good days
And bad days to one, to all other emotions, as they
Swell in your heart, and the bough breaks.
Copyright © Ethan Wood | Year Posted 2017
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