Forest Floor

My work... Still in progress.

Deep in the forest, fall dyeing.

Crows and varmints spying.

A breeze swallows and I am confirmed;

baptized no less, as I Am my best...

Copters above,

chopping the air we breathe,

chirping in anger, the birds can never conceive.

Lifting up their heads and breathing in deep enough to fill themselves with life.

while we pant and wander into this, only then too ponder;

to empathize with all other people's strife.

Go back in time and become undone to what has happened;

where are they now?

See the sacred cow jump.

Watch the moon as it rises with the stars gushing and overflowing through space time's crisis.

The Sun will burn out and die on the cross, and all will be ascribed and sacrificed in a once in a lifetime glory:

yet we're lost.

Listen to every single story.

Be the character, be the player... Be the star...

Hopes and dreams are the glasses afar.

Trample and crunch into the dust of all the leaves past.

The branches and cans conflict, war is in the eye in the folder...

Bounce around, full of joy... the world is our only toy,

Run! Scream! Without fear, only operate from the mountain top of all the highest esteem.

Is the truth such that you look to be forgiven?

It's only to be ridden of your crimes, then forgiven:

Upon you, not your god or people you hold true.

In the woods there is no lie, It's hard to even see the sky.

Trees and death and life and breath, on the floor.

The shag carpet to the roof above your head,

The food, your health and loved ones cred...

I am a dog; unconditional feelings born, all too us throughout this scorn.

The owls see in the night,

The snakes can smell with tongue and cheek, bats will fly: attack the meek.

Presidents come and go, politics which most don't know, fire and ice will mess up the love that only comes from above;

All this love is your history,

Above your facts,

Above your face and your tracts.

What can be the point?

Roll and smile to just accept this joint?

Atmosphere counts, experience mounts.

The crow will call,

The deer will bolt,

The wolf will howl,

The mountain will molt.

Be me,

I am you.

Together we sense and dream this picture, The poets art is not a fiction.

come into my love... be redemption...

also-ran,

underdog,

the prince who was a frog.

Come back from behind,

all creatures love this kind...

I am the spill of words that are never heard,

the truth in you before the bird.

Just look upon this forest floor... needles, leaves, breaks and cracks... The roots above, and the cones done fall... the dew of moss and tears; each and all.

Reviews

[Chris]

good imagry, present a fine rhythm and tone.

[dan]

Todd, I hardly know what to say. There are points in this piece that are so inspiring I feel like standing up and clapping. There are quite a few of (what I call them) impact lines during the course of the piece that could carry a poem by themselves. Todd, this could be great, but my advice (if you want to hear it) is that there's a number of areas that could be trimmed out. There are a few rhymes that you really wanted to include but the subsequent rhyme sounds forced. I've trimmed a lot of s**t from my stuff over the years (I tend to ramble) so I know it sometimes needs to be done. BUT, there ARE those points that made me feel like doing a standing ovation. You have a lot of talent, Todd. Keep writing. take care...dan

[Tania]

I really enjoyed reading this ! Great job :)
-Beyourself

[Double T]

This is great work Todd. I hope u do some more to impress me. :)

[AaronFreitas]

A very good write Todd... I noticed you put at the top still in progress. Are you developing this piece into more than a poem or just making adjustments?

[modtoddinc]

I think of myself always in progress, and I edited some already... this one is probably done for now as I am moving on... but I hope always to revisit and tune up. Thanks for reading.