Monday, October 17, 2016

When This Hand Writes: Into A Dark Forest

On this page, I will explore creative writing through poetry

Into A Dark Forest
My One, True Friend
When Bullets Miss
Just What I Needed


I N T O  A  D A R K  F O R E S T

One thing that’s sure is the uncertainty of the fog  
And when it surrounds, I wonder what’s awry
 It speaks to my nerves and leads them astray
Into a dark forest with no other way

But once it’s gone, I desire its tension
And the feelings that stir at its very mention 
Is it only me or be there others, too?
Who feel the same way when it comes to hover?

The closer it gets, the more I’m drawn
Into its wrongful embrace, its seductive yawn 
I just might let it take me away
To wherever it resides, there I will stay

And then we’d be together, the two of us, finally!
And never again will I doubt its intentions 
The next time it comes I will follow it home
Into a dark forest with no other way

 
M Y  O N E  T R U E  F R I E N D

I love when my owner packs me around
For a walk in the woods or into town 

I hold all his things wherever he goes
 And it’s my pleasure!  It’s all that I know
  
Sometimes I’m hung on the branches of trees
As he takes pictures of me and the leaves

And I say, “cheese!” but he never responds
I think he’s a mute, but I could be wrong
  
But that doesn’t matter; I know we’re close
I hug him real tight wherever he goes!


W H E N  B U L L E T S  M I S S

When bullets miss there are second chances
And an accuser is given the same
What will you do with the chances you’re given
When the gun of your mouth is seeking to maim?

When wounds heal there are second chances
And a victim is given the same
What will you do with the chances you’re given
When the wounds of your skin are seeking to blame?


J U S T  W H A T  I  N E E D E D

By the wood I split, I made a fire 
Just right in size for me to admire
With the coffee I had, I brewed a cup 
Just to my liking; it was enough

With the night before me, I listened and heard 
The sound of the forest and the wood as it burned
With the night before me, I sipped and explored 
My love for coffee with thoughts in accord

Then I listened once more and this is what I learned 
The song of the night forest completes that of the birds 

And it was just what I needed
(and perhaps a bit more)

<Poetry (a.)  
  Poetry (c.)>

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