Into The Woods

Into The Woods

By Rowan Tree Poetry

Within this bewitchment of trees,
In which forest glimmer decanters keys,
Of shimmering sound in harmony,
And betrothed enchantment sings,


How can these spriteful dances play,
In structured helter-skelters of game,
Here-in reason here-in the rain,
Creaking of branches each have a name,


Taken in firelight toward impassioned allure,
Spellbound and hand-held by opening doors,
Which way is no matter they are for all,
Spindles of creation all that you are,


Sit calmly in lightcraft by windows and books,
Watch the shadows from crannies and nooks,
See how they stretch out and shift as you look,
The world is a metaphor for the time that it took.

Rowan Tree Poetry

All A Glisten by Rowan Blair Colver

Badge of Dishonour

Badge of Dishonour

Don’t pin that badge on my chest, I don’t deserve it not like the rest, I didn’t earn through disrespect, Double standards and no retrospect, Don’t pin that medal on me, I don’t destroy anyone’s country, Just to prove a moral objective, From a singular perspective, From an infinite scope out there, I refuse to plant seeds of despair, Not for you or me or anyone, We are children of the same sun, I won’t point at a difference, And suggest it should be relevant, In fact I will push the opposite way, If you pin this badge on me today, You’re no better than they, Who assume and accuse, Beat, batter, and bruise, For unrelated crimes.

Scott Free

#StandUpToRacism #OnePlanetManyFaces #GetUsedToIt

The End Of An Age

The End Of An Age

The age of the Anti-Christ,

Is crawling to a close,

Flogged and bleeding,

The weight of generations,

Strapped to its back,

The age of the self,

Is fading into black,

Where me is a by-word,

For God and the first number,

Shudder and quake,

As mountains give way,

Their boulders building a temple,

Around your cavernous tomb,

In days of final thrashings,

The reanimated id of humanity,

Functioning in the dream,

Hating behind the scenes,

And breathing all over me,

Fallen is the scarlet city,

Bedraggled and haggard,

Clinging on to vanity,

Afforded by profanity and woe,

It is time for them all to go,

The curtain call is neigh,

In these final days of the Anti-Christ,

Where the world outpours in grief,

In these days of closing stories,

The lucifer we all see.

Scott Free

visit my blog: alternativefruit.com

Immortality

Immortality

By Amanda Baker

Mrs Amanda Baker is the author of ASK: A Collection of Poetry, Lyrics, and Words

Author biography:

Amanda Baker is a mom, wife, daughter, and therapist in Baltimore, Maryland. She has been writing since the age of seven and continues to write to not only elicit freedom, but to inspire and connect with others. We all innately want to connect and feel recognized and honored. Amanda works with those challenged by mental health conditions and strives to recognize and honor her clients exactly where they are. This is Amanda’s first published collection of her poetry and lyrics. You may find it on amazon. During her downtime, she often spends time with her two-year-old son, Dylan, her husband, and family. She enjoys yoga and is certified in Radiant Child Yoga. She is training to be 200-hours certified to teach yoga. Amanda would love for you to come and take a class with her! She also loves music, going to concerts, reading both fiction and nonfiction books, and lying on the beach.

Have you read ASK: A Collection of Poetry, Lyrics, and Words yet?

The Golden Child

The Golden Child

Directions from the gods

Entertain me

On the plateau

That is high above a ridge

Walking tall

But wearing thin

The limelight is passion

& pain is so sore

Exploring freedom

& nothing more

As I dive into paragraphs

Discerning wisdom

That seems to aggravate

Respect the soul

For it dissipates

A warning call

From the canyon

Beleaguers me

& my hands of satin

Relishing in the good times

That are ripe for the taking

The universe smiles

Walking side by side

You are a golden child

On the journey into madness

Lets rhyme and rid sadness

Extinguish what we cannot save

I call to you

To be very brave

The Persian night

Is ours for the taking

Colliding with meteors

That explode

For our tribe

That is right for the taking

 

Eric Laurence Glassman

 

Eric L Glassman is the author of Poetry Of The Damned

poetry of the damned by eric laurence glassman

Excerpt from Deep Cleveland Magazine on Eric L Glassman:

Reviewed by Mark Kuhar – author, poet, and proprietor of deepcleveland.com

Just in time for the end of the world, Eric Laurence Glassman has produced a prophetic new collection of verse, “Poetry of the Damned.” Written well before the onset of coronavirus, and the era of personal isolation and social distancing, many of these poems read like the soundtrack of our current universal unraveling, and come complete with anxiety, boredom, bleakness, self-immolation, inebriation, longing, and maybe not a light at the end of the tunnel, but a multitude of sparks in the darkness.

Random lines from many of the poems are chillingly relevant to our current lives:

“Awakened at dawn
By a burning fever
That is boiling inside of me”

“Through the hard and long days
That are so boring to me
It is my release from being captive”

“The other side of freedom
Winces and increases the pain
While I inspect forgotten realms
That fly with the night bird
Escaping everything”

“So inept with my surroundings
That explain the hidden meanings
Of an on and off again life”

Despite being caught in a current of unknowing, a number of the poems in this collection lend themselves to reflection. Maybe our problems are large and complicated but a dose of simple observation often takes the edge off of the anxiety. To whit:

“While I hear the sounds from the ocean
While we inhale the fountain
& exhale mystery
While we walk amongst the giants
That calm my heart and being”

“Looking over at the shore
So close to harmony
That paints a picture and excretes the light
& sheds a tear for infamy”

“Truth by moonlight
As told by the stars
That reveal hidden beauty
So divinely unscathed
As we wander the cool night
In search of our release”

In the poem “Fantasizing About Happiness” Glassman writes,

“In the infinite universe
Colors stream on our ride
That perplexes level brains
& hides beneath the sky
While we pursue happiness
Our long and heartfelt quest”

Life and poetry are just that, a heartfelt quest. We will roll forward and face the challenges, deal with the daily realities of love and death, and the very human haunting that preoccupies our souls. Nothing more basic and real than to:

“smile with the breeze & move to the cool poetry of the damned.”