Though Crows Still Talk

Bodark tree 3

I still can’t see the way beyond
Not mirrored glass nor crystal pond
Reflects the light on restless seas
Though crows still talk… in Bodark trees

If I could capture all their words
Or just remember what I’ve heard
Absorb just half of what they know
From conversations of the crow

Looking yon the morrows light
Through lucid dreams or second sight
Our fate still lingers in the breeze
Though crows still talk… in Bodark trees

Michael33

To Humans

To Humans

To Humans
          by Creatures of the Forest

Of course I am familiar
With the creatures that wander the forest…
For I was raised in the tops of trees
Towering to heights far greater
Than most of your concrete and steel…
Yet the creatures that wander
Your sidewalks and streets
Are far more cruel than any
That have ever wandered
The forest floor…
Of those amongst the woodland
To slay another
Is only in the name of necessity of food…
The survival of the species…
While those amongst the concrete
Slay others in the name of hate
 
There is no slaughter within our forest
For there is no animosity
Nor disrespect for another
Except for that by humans
In their greed for riches
Or trophies upon their shelves…
Yet those amongst you…
In your castles and cadillacs…
In your cavalries and camouflage
Slaughter those
Who are unwilling to comform
To your way of life…
To your so called democracies…
Perhaps to your religion…
You kill one proclaiming their guilt
While killing ten of innocence
Without judge nor jury…
Yet professing it as justice…
 
Over and over
You have slaughtered the masses
While in the same moment
Asking God to bless your nation…
I suppose that you have left God
In wonderment of creation…
For I am most certain that the intent
Was not for one to kill another…
Nor imprison another…
Nor torture one over words…
Nor starve another…
Nor leave one to survive without shelter…
Nor to die of illness
Impoverished by circumstances…
 
There is no injustice
In the tops of trees…
We are always of nourishment
With berries and leaves
And the grains that linger nearby…
All are shared equally with the others…
The creatures that dwell
Upon the forest floor
Do not know cruelty…
They do not slaughter one another
For land or oil
Or because they do not like the lifestyle of another…
 
Although you speak of yourself
As the creature of reason
The superior species of all of creation…
I will choose to live with the animals of the forest
For they are the ones of reason…
It is those who live in the tops of trees
That possess love and compassion for another…
While you in your ignorance…
In your misguided self-indulgence…
In your endless pursuit of war…
In your lust for treasures…
Dwelling in your peculation
Longing to slaughter one another into extinction…
I will be lying in comfort
Full with sustenance
Covetous of nothing
Loving the creatures near to me
While welcoming those who wander
Into my forest
Willing to share my nest with another…
Swaying in the gentle breeze
In the tops of trees…
Smiling

Michael33

Copyright © 2015

What Bides Before the Hearth

Tree house tree

What Bides Before the Hearth

Much of my childhood was spent
In the top of the old elm
Some sixty feet above the ground…
And above the life from which I was hiding…
Its thick green leaves always eager
To hide my small frame
From those who prowled upon the ground…
And to hide my soul
From the creatures lingering in my reality

My days spent in the apogee of the elm
My nights in the crest of the oak
For not even the cries of the cougar
In the night of a full moon
Were more frightening than
What bides before the hearth

I could not rest on chamber berth
Fearful of what dwelled in the darkness…
The shades were pulled to block the night
But creatures stirring outside the walls
Were not the cause of my foreboding

Every closet in the house had its bones
You could hear them moan in the stillness
And rattle as if in the wind
Although the only breeze
That blew behind those closed locked doors
Came from the breath of the living

No one dared wander into the attic
For the cobwebs covered the echoes of secrets
That lay buried between the boards…
Beneath where the bats hang

Sometimes the secrets would
Creep down from the ceiling
Oozing down the wall beneath the paint
Emerging from behind the baseboards
Rising from the nether
In search of the soul of an innocent

I would gladly climb the sixty feet into the air
Within the old elm tree to spend my day…
When nightfall brought the darkness
My audacious smile, lucent in the twilight
Embraced the rugged bark of my salvation…
As I pulled the homemade rope ladder
Into the most desultory of treehouses
Nestled within the cradle of the old oak…
High above those that prowled upon the ground
And the creatures that lingered…
Expecting only the most pleasant of dreams…
To the howl of the cougars

Michael33

Copyright © 2015 All Rights Reserved

The Beauty in Love

photo credit: wplynn via photopin cc

photo credit: wplynn via photopin cc

“The Beauty in Love”

 
Another blank page
Glaring into my eyes
Almost laughing in my face at my
Unfulfilled desire for poetic expressions…
 
If love can cure the sadness,
Can it not also return the
Beauty of the rhymes of life
To one’s heart and soul…
To be expressed upon
What once was a blank and
Unsympathetic page?
 
I have been often shown
By unexplained circumstances,
That love is the answer to all of life’s
Displeasures and uncertainties…
Yet, as I peer through a dirt covered
Window pane, observing only the
Barren branches of the Althea tree,
I am left in wonder of the truth that
Love is the answer, for there must always be
Beauty in love…
 
The tree branches are swaying
In rhythm with the gentle breeze
Proudly displaying its leafless
Nakedness without discomfiture,
While the tiny limbs intonations
Propagate the mellow sounds
Of natures percussion…
 
I watched in sudden wonderment
As the orchestral harmonies of nature
Filled my awakening to its beauty…
What is love if not perceived from
The intricacies of our universe…
What is love if it cannot be found
Within the beauty of an Athea tree…
Baring its soul to the breeze,
To the light of dawn,
And to my own wondering eyes…
 
As if to abrogate any doubt within me
Of what is beauty and what is love,
A Cardinal of magnificent allure
Landed upon perhaps the most crooked
Of  limbs of the Althea…
Standing proudly, clothed in crimson and wine
Masked in mystery and the eloquence of ebon
Eyes wide open and searching…
Perhaps for love…
 
His proud and radiant beauty
Upon the naked limbs of the Althea
Within the branches and against the sky
In shades of silver and slate
Is of the most magnificence…
 
I had found the beauty for which I searched…
I had found love within my vision
Even through the tenebrous glass…
But what of the Cardinal?
Was he searching for love…
Or had he already found his love…
Standing proudly upon the branch of the Althea?

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

May the beauty of love surround you…

Namasté

Michael33