Woods Poems - Poems about Woods

in the woods spring has sprung and trees are putting on their green gowns oh, such delight to hear birds chirping busy making nests sweet moss drips ...

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Living Forests and vestal woods are the memory of the planet......

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In the woods, a man, shadows dance examining his fleeting silhouette, stuck in a trance. He raises his fist toward the sun. He sees its embrace, withdrawn. He wonders is a shadow the absence of light or the presence of darkness? If both then why when he raises his hand further to the sky, does brilliance become substituted by obscurity? Is he a bringer...

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Incessant drizzle soak pith of each and every dense tree in evergreen forest where moss, algae, lichens paints lush hues of green, blue and rich brown While wet birds forget to sing glistening snakes search shelter termites, ants, crawlers, stingers start climbing slippery trees inundated forest floor Near to dusk, a shy sun shaft reaches decayed fallen log adding chill to eerie air a great gray owl looks...

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The green walls rise, a silent, leafy maze, Where sunlight fails and shadows softly graze. The path, once clear, now vanished from my sight, Lost in the woods when day dissolves to night. The trees stand tall like sentinels of old, Their branches weave, a story to unfold. A rustling breeze, a whisper in the ear, Of ancient fears that banish hope...

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Washed ashore on the lost island Skin already peeling on the beach Burning from the hot green summer sun Meat melting off to become bone Jumping back into the water Cooling off with the clams and fish Washing the sand off from your leg bones Discarding you clothes Who needs them? A skeletons not so bad You still have your Olmiut And you can...

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The silent snow drifts soft and deep, A silver hush on bending trees, The frozen lake lies still in sleep, Its heart unbroken by the breeze. The moonlight spills in trembling white, White scattered pearls upon her breast. And all the world dissolves in light, A place where time is lost then found. No whispered call, no footstep near, Only the hush of winter's...

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there was a man from Dublin named Josh who liked reading poems by Frost one day in the woods it was said he took the wrong path instead and ended up in Galway totally lost ...

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Step Outline- Hiking Trail (A Horror) Prologue Ext. Woodland Park, Upstate California- Sunset It’s mid-autumn, hot. A week before school starts, there’s a family gathering. A young woman is arguing with her father. She’s holding onto her food. Then, she grabs her purse and storms off. Her father calls after her, but she’s heading into the mouth of...

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I don’t know how I lived so long without poetry by my side to uphold enfold and console me as time went passing by how did I miss the gentle kiss of rhythms all around the sound of rivers rushing and rolling tides with waves unbound the chirping birds whose secret words were music nonetheless even though I did...

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The trees crowd in along the broken trail, sunlight tries to push through, but mostly fails, straight trunks spread out and obscure distant gaze, there’s eyes out there, watching, afraid they’re prey. Ahead a break grows larger with each step, cerulean against the forest depth, the summit rock cresting half of the peak, this vantage sought by many weary feet. Red squirrels chitter...

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Strawberry red skies when home beckons through sage woods Pink love's going down as dewdrops on purple rose prior to the velvet close Flowers follow me their fantasy fragrances recalling burnt gold Beauty's dying once again in throes of rapture and pain...

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Music Looks Like A thunderstorm rolling in from the west. Jagged flashes of lightning from dark roiling clouds A quiet stream meandering through a wooded glen. Bubbling and gurgling as it gently flows to the sea. A brilliant art work with splashes of red, green, blue. An improv painting open to one’s interpretation. A crowded street full of people of all shapes, sizes and colors. Some hurrying, some not but all...

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The time was between the years of 1972 or 1976 when I was thirteen to about sixteen years old. The place was "The woods behind the Westbury Sweetshop" In the town of Iselin, New Jersey, where I grew up. That's where I spent many of my teenage years. My friends and I started hanging out...

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God calls us to follow His way with no guarantees of a easy road but one great promise He'll never leave us no matter the weight, He knows our load This has always been my experience but the Lord has been faithfully true assured of His presence no matter what standing firm in the woods I would do When I lost my dear...

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