#forest poem

[seraphinesaintclair]

“A Thrumming of Sky” by Seraphine Saintclair

[sarvamentu]

I need to dwell in the forest immerse into the crisp air a hue of misty green and blue so that I can lay my mind to rest while the tiny pitter-patters of small creatures assemble and echo all around inside the walls of our trees - a falcon screams. ~ L.B. | “tree walls” | 24 Jan. 2022

[tearinlan]

poems for films: Little Forest (2018) dir. Yim Soon-rye 🍵

[herlittlebook]

Photo credit IG: @peter_outdoor_

Do I miss you?

No, I do not.

How can I when there is comfort in being alone;

When sleep comes easily and I dream deeply:

Of the forest and the rain;

Of songbirds and trickling streams;

Of the softest silence.

I am too busy being free

To remember you.

[written-by-sophia]

you forgot what day it is again and i feel like i’m a side character in my own life. i want to walk outside and lay down in the mud until it swallows me up. earth on impulse, rainwater washing me off until i feel whole again. the trees go grey and white and i have the distinct feeling that i’ve been forgotten again. i want to join the broken sticks and tumble-down logs in the snow and rest for a while, until my inbox stops filling up with messages and my to-do list accepts the fact that it will remain undone.  i will no longer live with any purpose or intent. instead i will join the river as it flees to the south. let it rush me along until the churning of the water has cleansed my mind of old memories and my aching bones of all their dust. 

[birdfae]

You tend to see it in the little things, now. My guide into the forest was... well, quite nimble. It took a lot of effort to just keep up with him, darting through branches and leaves. Meanwhile, I was getting smacked in the face by rogue branches every few seconds.

He was quite cute actually. Not that I got too much of a look at him, being the clunky tank chasing a squirrel through the trees, but I got the impression of short curly hair mopped on top of a round face, and the round glasses to match.

Back to the point though. I remember being quite confused at the time from this, this- knowledge that he had. It's like he'd mapped out the whole forest and was reading it behind his eyes.

[rosecorcoranwrites]

[d--m]

the morning is ferns the forest hides and watches me search the shadows summer storm upon you adorns a crown of clouds there you are, my heart the thrushes, bullfrogs memories shrink and follow the wide arc of time home bound, home return the place of life to mark time air alive with you alive in the sense of new eyes, patterned longing that is answered so beautifully

d–m for Morphina