Nature

Surrounded by water, a dark embryo.

In its center, shielded, cradled,

Huddles a pulsing seed, a throbbing heart, a tangle of limbs.

Floating. A dark mass, rocking in the ocean swells, pulled upwards on the shining surface, dipping

In the constant sound that serves as faint lullaby.

A timeless expanse of this. This simply nothing existence

And then

One minute toe pokes through the slippery membrane.

One pale, bony toe

One pale, bony creature

As slimy as the “womb” from which it is born,

The pearl, the gelatinous pod that held it

Warm in the dark, rocking, for so long.

Liquid slowly pools around the toe,

Viscous goo sluggishly pushing out

From the ruptured sac, deflating,

Writhing with the sharp tangled limbs of the thing

Trapped inside.

Liquid oozes, flows more frantically, toppling over itself, pumping out like blood, as a shiny bare foot

Kicks weakly outward, followed by a white, bone-thin leg,

A bent, gristly rod, a skeleton slug. An almost grotesque leg—

But wondrous, too, new, full of potential,

Full to bursting—though it looks near lifeless—with the possibility to become

Something.

The other leg follows, bare feet and toes exposed to the wind and the sea for the first time.

It pauses in its mission to register—possibly even relish—the new sensation.

That such a thing is possible is not consciously reflected upon but accepted and right

Then the withered, oozing sac bulges Read more »

You had icicles for eyelashes, 

but I was so cold and alone.

My judgments may have been off, 

but I trusted that being with you

would bring me warmth and company.

I burrowed myself into the hollow of the tree,

shifting about; unable to find myself comfortable,

but at least I was no longer in the snow,

wandering back and forth,

retracing footsteps that had already been

blown away

by the selfish winds.

You ruffled your feathers

and flew away.

The lights went dark, 

and my safe hollow

became a prison.

There’s a pond
near my house
where I go,
occasionally.
It’s hidden from view,
tucked behind a redstone cliff
and walls of cattails.
You wouldn’t happen upon it;
you wouldn’t find it
unless you were looking.

It’s shielded from everything,
tucked away,
where you can’t feel
the wind whipping up the street
and you can’t hear
the sounds of people.
All that’s there
is the croaks and splashes
of the frogs in the summer
and the ice in the winter
that sometimes you can walk on.

And I go there
when I don’t want to see
anyone
except those frogs
and the occasional turtle.
When I want to run my hands
through the dry cattails
and listen to them
whisper to me.
I go there
when I want to be
shielded, too.

I walk through the woods listening to the joyful bird sounds, not thinking about anything really -just letting my thoughts wander to the sky. I come out of the forest into a large, grassy meadow and that's when I see it. The brown and white animal lying on its side in the grass. Slowly and quietly I tiptoe closer. I gasp. A brown deer with a stomach as white as a blanket of snow lies there heaving and snorting. It's not only the deer itself that is amazing, it is what I am witnessing. A clear bag of water is erupting from the doe's back end. The bag breaks, the deer gives one last push and a small. dark, wet, bloody sac slides out onto the soft green grass. The doe stands up, licking off her newborn fawn. I watch, mesmerized by the shock, joy, impossibieness and magnificence of it. The young fawn lets out a cry almost as small as a hummingbird's chirp and tries to stand up, but falls. It tries again. After many tries, the baby walks slowly and shakily toward its mother's back legs, searching for nourishment. Finally, it grabs a teat. The mother stands quitely and patiently nursing her young fawn.  Read more »

I can see you, through the tall grass
You gazing down upon me, as a large mass
The earth is here surrounding, me and you
I really wish you could see, the green too

It’s hiding on the tree tops, and in the flower bed
I love the green so much; it’s starting to hurt my head
It can grow as small as me, or the house where you sleep
I wish I could reach, and for myself I would keep

I listen to the leaves shake, as my lullaby
Listen here and closely, it can make you cry
Because the beauty I see, maybe hard for you to see
It’s absolutely gorgeous; it’s more than just for me

I will plant a cabbage plant, or a stock of corn
It will be amazing; I hope the leaves aren’t torn
I will need help planting, and to keep the bugs away
You can just feel them, but I have no delay

The colors that I see, are here to stay
However so sadly, god has betray
Wishing I could weep, because you will never
You can only see blackness, for now and ever

Looking out the window of the back room
I see an apple tree that never blooms.
But stands uncovered in the cold
Cursing the spring that will unfold.

The wind shakes off its blanket of snow
Revealing the naked boughs below.
Yearning for its winter lair
That melts as the weather turns fair.

For in the spring the tree can’t hide
As the other flora bloom with pride.
Even after an April shower
Its leaves are graced by no rare flower.

As spring melts into summer,
The blossoms wilt and die like all others.
The apple tree sprouts its leaves
Flourishing green, though inside it grieves.

For it knows that in the fall,
What were once flowers so small,
Become apples sweet and round
So heavy they weigh most trees down.

But this small tree must bear poor fruit,
Hard and green and so minute
That only worms and animals of the wood
Have the taste to accept it as food.

But even this season of humiliation
Must come to pass after its proper duration.
Leaves are dropped and the trees stand like nudes,
Except the pines, needle-covered prudes.

As cold wind blows down from the north
The tree happily sways back and forth.
It stretches its branches out from its core,
A weak trunk that grows no more.

Now the tree resembles all the rest
Standing in a pile of leaves with branches undressed,
Because winter is the perfect season
For a tree that lacks flowers for no reason.

Lay down,

feel the earth under your feet,

There is a sound of birds and wind,

the sensation is joyous but discreet,

The sky is blue, the clouds are the color of an old strip of wood,

the golden waves of sky and mother nature's warm grain kiss your nose,

Forget about the demons in your past,

you know that if you turn, there will be fear,

A dark shade of blue cloaks you as night falls,

savor it child, for everything dies

Know that something new will always have fear,

but the new can have dreams,

and the old can make those dreams a reality.

It starts

A gloomy, gray day

A timpani roll plays overhead

Deep, Menacing, Foreshadowing

The sky darkens

Mother Nature becomes

Angrier

And

Less Controlable

The world takes on an eerie peace

A dangerous silence

Then

Water

Crashing down to Earth

A tsunami

Thunder bellows

Lightning cracks and shatters the sky

Mother Nature

Yells and throws fire

Crying with fury Read more »

Red sun glows
in the peach fuzz sky
behind plush clouds
and the buzzing horse fly

Rough brisk dirt
under the hard quick feet
on the you and me trail
next to the Hopkins street

Gray sliver moon
in the Monet blue sky
gracing fresh grass fields
and the tired goodbye

Pretty purple

sunsets

shimmer down

the Read more »

There are some simple things in life, that are so beautiful, but we are so caught up in our own thoughts, we haven't even began to take notice. But I love them. Read more »

I need to leave here,

I need to go on my journey, but alone.

I don't need guidance, I don't need parents,

I need my soul, and my heart to guide me.

And I'll be okay.

I need to leave here.

Thanks for the memories,

Thanks for all you've done,

But I want to leave.

I need to leave here.

I need to leave the technology and social networking,

And resort to the simplicity of nature.

Survive off the land,

Travel by my feet.

  Read more »

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.  Read more »

How can there be so much that you don't know.

You think you own whatever land you land on.

You think the only people who are people are the people who look and think like you.

They all have a life, have a spirit, have a name.

You sit with your iPads instead of walking with the nature God has provided us with.

You breathe air conditioned air instead of the refreshing air of the wind.

You never hear the voices of the mountain, you never hear the voice of the wind.

Come roll in the riches all around you. Read more »

Stumble upon dense textbooks, and notebooks,
and binders, pencils, erasers,
in this densely-populated world of hippies,
nerds, jocks, and beauty and misery and pain,
in this densely-populated representation of--
stereotype. Read more »

There is a place

I found this spring

when the late snowfall came-

do you remember?

The buds on the trees had just started to open

unfurling tiny leaves.

I didn't say anything,

but I was privately worried 

that it would be too cold for them

and 

that they would all die.

They didn't, of course.

But that day 

when the spring snow fell,

I had a strange burning feeling

in my chest.

  Read more »

The birds sing their songs,
flurries of notes that sound beautiful.
The wind blows from behind me,
sweeping my long hair into my face.
The sky is plastered with colorful pastels,
as the sun starts to rise from beyond the mountain ranges in the distance.
The pink and orange hues of sunrise begin to disintegrate,
the sun gradually turning the sky a brilliant blue.

Simple,
Calm, little fawn
Mother deer standing close,
Swiftly guarding calm little fawn.
Safety.

The fields spread,
They glow
And I sitting here,
Watch the beauty spreading out.
The trees,
They feel my gaze,
They watch me,
They are my soul.
They are my home.

As I lie here,
I feel the sun,
I sense the sky,
I know the trees.
This place is hardly real,
But I am here, I am now.
I am free.

During my family’s and my walk through Red Rocks Park, I stopped the most frequently, borrowing the camera from my mom so often that I finally just kept it with me, taking pictures of anything small and beautiful. I took pictures because I still had the childlike desire to pick the flowers I saw, to uproot little seedlings, to pluck the red berries; to take that which is perfect and keep it with me forever, until the flowers wilt and the leaves shrivel and the berries wither, until the beauty of stolen nature is no longer applicable. Read more »

The sun was finally rising at four thirty. My brain and body was still asleep, the only thing that was working were my eyes that saw the sun rays hit the crystal ball that made the room shine with rainbows. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens,blues, indigos and, violets sorrounded me. How the beauty made me smile! Suddenly everything was awake to see the magnificent part of nature.

The sun was finally rising at four thirty. My brain and body was still asleep, the only thing that was working were my eyes that saw the sun rays hit the crystal ball that made the room shine with rainbows. Reds, oranges, yellows, greens,blues, indigos and, violets sorrounded me. How the beauty made me smile! Suddenly everything was awake to see the magnificent part of nature.

The Trees Song
As I stood at the field
With the trees on its edge all along

Swayed with the wind
giving me their joyful song Read more »

Raining down
And pouring through.
Don’t be sad.
Now the weather’s gloom,
But the gloom brings good
In the end.
Flowers can spring,
Grass can grow,
And trees get greener
By the day.
Bees will buzz
And cows will graze,
All because of the rain.
So much beauty
Flourishing now.
Are you still sad?
Even though
It is gloomy now,
It will turn better soon.
So never forget
To smile when it rains.

The leaves rustled as the swift breeze whipped around the trees. Her hair, as black as the night sky, rippled down her back. She turned around, tightly gripping her bow. The deer was beautiful. White spots covered her chestnut brown coat. The deer looked up. It's big, round dark eyes blinked.
She knew that the graceful creature had seen her, but she was not willing to lower her bow. She just stood there, gazing at the innocent deer.
Then she let go of the arrow.

When the moon turns the river
To shimmering liquid silver
The Faerie Queen, she appears.
Her subjects sense when she does near--
From hollowed hill and oaken tree
They flock to her, their queen to see.
In whirling circles they dance
While their mouse-steeds round them prance.
Their floating gossamer veils
Leave sparkling dewdrops where they trail.
Shinning crowns reflect starlight
Illuminating the black night.
But when the dawn begins to break
And mortals in their beds do wake,
The faeries to their hills go
And disappear, melting like snow.

A long time ago, Earth was but a roaring ball of fire. Magma filled its center, while bursting lava out of every chasm it had. Crevasses of lava bubbled into rivers of the boiling mutinous rock. The planet, Earth, could not hold any mortal creature without consuming the being with it’s mouth of fire. Earth was left untouched by any of the gods. One day, at Mount Olympus, Eleven gods sat at the table of Mt. Olympus, waiting for Zeus, the king of the gods, to arrive. Read more »