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People account you wise. They call me a savage. Yet do we not have our own wisdom? You know the city while I know the wild.
Disoriented in a deep forestnoticing a strange looking treewhose dry bark was greatly gnarled,camouflaged well within its trunkthrough its knots it appeared like an old man with a long beard of white
A passing thought while strolling through the dale. With their limbs , on hikes , I’ve bumped my head. Roots caught my boot ,on the floor splayed I spread. Passing glancing, perhaps giant nemesis they were.
I HEARD THE WILD I heard the echo honk of black Canada geese, neatly parting the moonlit sky,and the melodious warning of a red winged black bird scaring his neighbors nearby.
I see it licking its lips. Glowing red eyes in the woods staring at a calf; a small growl came;the wind  is howling. I stroll to see Goldie. 
Trees, thousands of years old Monoliths of perseverance and life Great behemoths standing tall Never giving in to all that assails them Nor overtaking all that surrounds them Me, only decades old
Can you smell the smoke? like the smell of summer nights we can barely remember, sitting in circles around a glowing red light. Do you hear the distant crackle?
A golden beam of sunlight shines through scattered patches. Gold reflects on every surface. The trees illuminate in a sunny yellow, Signifying the timeless beauty that fall has bestowed.
Trunks thin and the grass fluffy. The sun shimmered. In the fantasy. of love and growth. But, the darkness-- The light killed it. So darkness died away. The light won. So the forest grow.
Life is strange and windingA faded forest trail.Constantly remindingThe path is all that's clear-It's narrow atmosphere... I cannot leave the way.I'd surely loose my way.
Sallow, sickly trees Hide the cunning wolf from view; Lurking in the dark  
The forest greeness I have seen from my warm home Creation of God
the mountains helped her breathe,  and become who she wanted to be.    they guided her on her way,  and watched over her night and day.    to her blooming heart,  the forest was a piece of art. 
this in chilling remark, forget the picture, and embark on a change in circumstances, across chasms unboundable by some, unfounded by others, and wanted not for, by those in widst in the midst of nothing left on forest floor unnoticable, in this g
If a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around, does it make a sound?
To see the world  Through the frame of words   The moon in the sky Above ponderosa pines This scent in the air  Of the rain and wind   To catch and pin  The world to the page
An endless sea of crooked trees, Spreads widely over the horizon With coal-black branches, crimson leaves, That rustle in the eerie silence.   A narrow path slithers between
His hands are calloused and torn, browned by the sun as always but now they are stained red with blood   Silent, he grips the butt of his rifle with one hand and a dirty cloth with the other  
dear mountain standard time   the desert is in itself an oasis, an escape from the monotony of trees and grass that plague the forest valley   they are all i have ever known, truly
The forest air  floats heavy in the trees  the ground illuminated  by it, a gothic chandelier  moonlight dances on the cauldron  with contorted contents to puppeteer    and so it cooks 
Often seen,Beneath all tree,Green feather fallen here.GentlyLyingCaringCryingBeneath all tree,Green feather here.
The forest, its filled with trees, and bees, they land on the flowers and the trees. The forests, its filled with animals, and rivers, they run through the trees.  The forest,
She is So wild and deep, The forests and oceans, Would be envious of her if, They knew.
In the mind's eye, I can see naught but a raindrop,Reflecting an emerald world as, on a blade of grass, it is atop.   
  When Hansel’s old parents were all poor and ragged They left him to fend for himself With nothing to hold but the shoes on his feet And the Griddle from on top the shelf  
Lines composed during a walk from Highgate to Hampstead Heath  1991   It has been a day for wandering beneath this sky of early spring
In my neck of the woodsWe hide our fears In the trees aboveThat spout our stories for usIn the forested road. With antlers and paws With general retributionIn our own causes. We remember the waterBut are led to no whereBecause we wonder yet trembl
Silence Among Others By: Tom   I rarely speak too loudly For I am as quiet as the breeze I move among the forest Speaking only through the trees   The leaves help tell my story
Pages rustle gently against the wind but do not stir from my thumb Worlds of words wind their way to me and take me from my own Now I sit in a tavern where Gareth is buying drinks for all
The sky is dark the land is still The moon peeks over a distant hill An owl begins to screech in the night A lone wolf howls, bathed in moonlight The leaves rustle as the wind starts to blow
In the summer dawn I took to the mountain and field, Hopping the creek, and breathing the spearmint yield. Passing the pond, I startle the heron perched in the pine,
Snickering and cackling Its sparks are laughing Trying to warm us And staying lit is a must   Acting like it was having fun It has the touch of the sun Burning whatever it is touching
My wildflower, forest sprite— I'll paint you pictures of all your light For words could not do it justice.   Imagine myriads of stars Above the velvet tops of trees —The greenest in the forest for you—
Beauty is... A waterfall trickling into a small pond, Moss carpet cushioning the animals as they drink, Where people have not roamed Beauty is... The enchanted forest that comes alive
Come hither my cats, let me sing you a lullaby. Sleep in my arms, lay in the bed of lavender. Listen to the song of sleep, and let it linger in your ears. The night has come
My family is the woods. My dad is the dirt, giving us a solid foundation to grow in. My mom is the tallest tree, overseeing everything that occurs. My brother is the opposite bank of the creek,
 the heart of the forest  darkness clothing bark  shadows hugging contours   of tallest trees       spruce and pine bark boughs drifting down   sweeping needles  
The voice within me is old. And I know her now. I've always known her, because she is me, as much as I am her.   I remember, a time in September, under a tree
trees don't have feelings  he said as he drew the knife  across the rough bark   and the clear sticky sap    ran down  and bleed out.     she watches silently  
I danced in this great and ancient forest that have had grown over the course of centuries- leaving half eaten morsels of it’s decaying ancestors to revisit later.
The hardwoods cry in color this time of year As the sun sets an owls call from within the deep hollow can be heard clear There is no path to follow, not one less traveled by, no direction to steer
Where sleeps the crescent moonand drifts bright stars awayto bring a song of lightglowing from a thicket therewhere tawny birds take flight
I listen to the wind under the trees
The trees are Spartan spears, Authority and valor pierce the Horizon— They stand dense and hold light and Fog. They do not bend for you and me, they never have. They do not bestow Grace or Mercy
I start to wonder, wander through my mind that life
The smallest golden seed fell from the tallest tree And the forest came alive. The healthiest patch of soil caught the smallest golden seed And the forest sighed.
Deep in a forest Where the wind blows Lives the grass, the trees and grow. They strive off of life And they know what is right Here is where the wind blows And the trees and grass grow.
Nature in its essence So Often Misunderstood The things we might not notice The things I wish we could   Disguised by its beauty Lush greenness all around The penetrating sunlight
Lost in a forest of expectations
Behind the filter I am Sylvia. Behind the likes and "thumbs up" I am Lucy. Before the mascara I am a daughter. Named by my free spirited parents' Name sake of shimmering light in the forest. 
As I walk down the forest today, I look, look far deep in the forest pathway Only to see what I saw yesterday,
At an unknown hour the daylight inches timidly through branches like bars set too high. The chill of October has settled here, where shadows dictate and instinct inflates.
I roamed through the leaves, found no man, only animal beings.
At night, I wait for her to come, My rays glistening silver on the pool below. The forest is quite and still; The stars wheel and dance around me.   At night, I come to the pool in the forest;
Green light filtering down Upon a floor littered with stone Littered with glass and dust   An unmoving body stirs A tunneled room lay before him His vision clears as realization dawns  
The city is burning,
Deep in the forest where the wolfs bane grows The midnight fairy comes out to dance. Her motions are so graceful and her beauty perennial.
His eyes are unsettling, a deep brewing ocean. And the waves in them roll Over and over again in my mind like marbles against my fingers, His hair lay in knots but perfectly calculated knots
Oh! Amidst that vast evergreen forest, Lies an immaculate crystal palace Surrounded with red delicate rose crests Lives a beautiful queen with no malice. Oh! Her smile and her laughter fools many
  The forest awaits Hundred-year-old trees tower above Holding up the sky with their branches
Flitting through the trees She runs Like the quicksilver moon High in the clear night sky   He passes through the dark trees Striding onward with some mysterious purpose
My brethren and I are thrown,
Mine forest, mine haven,Lovely thou art aflame.
There's not a moment that I think I've got it figured out. I see the rays of hope behind the growing clouds of doubt. And I cannot make sense of it as nobody else can. I've got to follow all the rules, follow God's plan.
Once there was a little girl. That is how this story began. She was a lost little girl, confused by the world around her. She had gone into a forest. Deep, deep into the forest she went.
Do you see my unicorn?She is pure white, her mane shining in the moonlight.Her fur is soft, like a chick's downy fluff.Within her sweet eyes, is where something lies.
   When one walks into the forestIt doesn't matter, from the rich to the poorest  Nature does not have not a single careSo go ahead and do away with all of your despairFor being out there is actually living
You live, you die, you laugh, you cry That is how life goes, but i wonder why Some say it is like a roller coaster It takes you to your highs and lows Others say it is like a journey
Deep within the forest, inside the pine tree’s heart, Run the dearest of children to their own land set apart, The sun on the dirt, the trail well known, But to all who thread it a question is thrown,  
Swimming are the trout fish, swimming are they freeOne girl dose run, an angle from aboveDeep inside the forest, where the bird do not sing.Silent waits the devils son, heartless he will be, Beside the river the girl dose runs,Her wings spread out
We fall like the leaves of Autumn, helplessly to the floor. We follow the wind, looking for a better core. We let the wind guide us  to see what's in store. Yet we act like we know what we're doing,
Fault of Destiny As a female it is destine to endure the pain of feminism. The curiosity of Eve will forever haunt the innocent. A normal female
The wind in the willow the will o' the wisp   A treehouse down where I used to live Up in the willow the willow that weeps Outside the orchard my maple held me
A waking soul of Western slumber rises Eastward, from the depths of the nurturing wood, Tipping over its goblet of honey, And bathing the wild in glimmered ambience. With the golden knight’s arrival, comes forth
The children venture Into still deeps of forest, its edges ink black, A wall of silence. Their lantern held high Aloft, a sole point of light Within the void, Without the night.
the fire cackles, laughing manically   as it leaps from branch to branchtreetop to treetop, hollow to hollow,destroying all in its wakenimbly wriggling through the dense undergrowth
The Sycamores sit high enthroned Above a frozen stream, Limbs bare as bone, Like old skeletons from a dream.   But Beeches wear their leaves quite late So that when other trees
Wild yet wonderful creatures that sore in the night Wise eyes set on prey, white feathers shining bright Wisdom Wings knows no fear The world is pitched black, but she can see wonderfully clear
I've known forests: I've known forests vast as oceans and taller than mountains.   My sould has grown roots like the forest's.   I saw the dark snakes of trunks and long limbs of roots.
Silent elfin streams drift through and between small hills covered in dead coastal redwood leaves, soft and plush, my toes slide between little needles and soil made of decomposed forest.  
In the dead of the night, The wolf pranced through the trees His jaws were clamped While his body weaved The wolf was a brute With a thirst to fight.   As the first opponent took his place
Smell the fresh pine of the forest. The cool breeze coming through the trees, washing over my face.
Her mirror belongs in a carnival, a wrong distorted image of what she looks like. She'll try to bend herself to make that reflection look perfect. Cut down what is eaten until it resembles the remnants of a forest.
I can still feel the moist coolness of the damp earth on my bare feet from that summer. I am lying on a wooden bench, my body so naturally pressing against its surface.
Seas of long, brown trees sends chills of fear yet calmness. It embraces you.
Fireflies dancing without a care in the world No stress, no responsibilities just for that night Glowing in each other's company, buzzing about Dressed to impressed and ready to amaze
Awake, alive, running to have a chase; Dim forest peels back branches binding light Allowing shadows lurch across my face As the feet reach to more ground for my flight
Kristin Knox Forest Man
Kristin Knox Forest Man
Down the jaded, dusty road to the west, Clouds form coalitions with no lassitude, And white billows transcend beyond the dark ones, Occult behind the density of the precursors of a transformation.
Before the day of the wind, Before it aggrandized and became a threat, Before it swirled above me, becoming anything but vapid, I had the sleazy, grass-topped shelter that I called home.
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