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  1. Banzai

    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    Weekly Poetry Contest (208) - Woodland

    Discussion in 'Monthly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Sep 10, 2012.

    Poetry Contest
    Two Hundred and Eight

    I'm consistently impressed with the level of poetic ability displayed on this site, and I look forward to yet another week of just that.

    The Rules
    • All entries must be on the set theme.
    • Only one entry per member.
    • No editing of entries once posted without my express permission (i.e. PM me and ask).
    • Poems must be titled
    • Entries must not have previously posted on the forums, and are not permitted to be posted for critique until AFTER the contest is completed.
    • Any violation of these rules will result in disqualification of entries, and possibly infraction.

    The entry stage will be open for seven days, closing on Monday 17th September 2012.

    The voting stage will begin immediately, and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 20th September 2012.

    And this week's theme is: (courtesy of Britannica) Woodland

    The next (209th) contest's theme will be (courtesy of Jetshroom): Noble Pursuit, and it will be opened on Monday 17th September 2012.

    Be imaginative, have fun, and get writing.


    PS: If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't bite (much).
  2. Darkkin

    Darkkin Reflection of a nobody Contributor

    Jun 21, 2012
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    Following the footprints in the sand...
    Lady of Autumn

    Lady of Autumn

    Echoes in my head.
    Whispers in my soul.
    Verses of the trees,
    Carried by the autumn wind.
    Gold and green and blue.

    Leaves cavort, a laughing dance.
    Of the graceful, fading year.
    Gold and silver and flame.
    Poplar. Oak. Maple.
    Upon the wooded slopes.
    The dancing leaves, tumbling...
    Forming a lady's cloak.

    The deep green of the fir.
    The scent of balsam, fallen and dying.
    The blue of spruce and the soft white pine.
    Full of squirrels and squabbling jays.
    The last refrain of the crickets' strings.
    A languid flutter of tattered monarch wings.

    The laughing chatter of the happy brook.
    The dark velvet of moss across the stones.
    Lady of Autumn,
    Of flaming hair and golden cloak.
    She whispers a lullaby to the bears.
    Gone are the spots of the fawns,
    With a single, gentle stroke.

    Beneath the leaves.
    Tucked in warm and safe.
    Are the small creatures of the world.
    The first flower of the spring.
    To wake with the Zephyr's return.
    The Lady of Autumn.
    A keeper of nature's heart.

    The Lady of Autumn.
    A beauty at her peak.
    All eyes upon her...
    A cloak and gown, shifting and changing.
    By the week and by the day.
    Little by little,
    Her laughter, her joyous colours,
    Soften and drift away.

    Gone is the brilliant cloak,
    Of the Lady in her prime.
    The serene white of the birch bark shines.
    The rich earth glows with heady peat,
    Hints of amber and the clinging green,
    Of the lasting moss.
    Her curls of ferns are deep red,
    And tightly bound.

    Hers is a peaceful beauty.
    Aching in its perfect, sere grace.
    Slowly she smiles...
    The touch of Jack Frost,
    An angel's kiss upon her face.
    In blacks and perfect white.
    She smiles her last and fades.
    The trumpeting of the departing flocks.
    Her last dance.
    The final song.

    Echoes in my head.
    Whispers in my soul.
    Such is the Lady of Autumn.
    So on her story does go.
  3. Agatha Christie

    Agatha Christie New Member

    Jan 19, 2012
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    A place to stroll away from strife
    Dappled sunlight shining through.
    A place to think about your life
    And all the things you want to do.

    A place to stop along the way
    And listen to a singing bird.
    A place to think of words to say
    And make sense of the things you've heard.

    A place to clear your mind of worry
    To feel the warm sun on your face.
    A place where you need never hurry
    But take your time and slow your pace.

    A place to think of long lost friends
    And those you've loved along the way.
    A place to wish you'd made amends
    And never, ever gone away.

    A place where minds can wander free
    Where thoughts can come and thoughts can go.
    The Beech, the Fir, the fine Oak tree
    The autumn leaves, the bright hedgerow.

    A woodland walk is yours to take
    Whatever frame of mind you're in.
    A little effort why not make
    And find a little peace within?
  4. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

    Aug 7, 2012
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    The Dark Forest

    Darkness calls as the moon rises, shading the trees in darkened shrouds.
    Snow cloaks the earth, frozen in time as the trees claw at the sky with skeletal hands -only to touch the clouds
    Reach for the stars, child of the Spring -wish for the world to see the sun again
    And yet as you take your final breath, see that your attempt to bring life back wa sonly in vain.

    Shadowed woods and deadened trees -the Dark forest; Winter's never-ending sea.
    Life is asleep or long gone from this world -in a land where cold is the only thing you need.
    The stars; those lights in the sky where life only seems to be.
    Silence, darkness, a world of black and white; forever hidden in the wooded sea.

    Silver dreams and golden sheaves reach ever-upwards to the meager light.
    It is a land of darkness, a land of forgetfulness -a land where there is always plight.
    Seek peace and there you will only find the place between darkness and true sight,
    but never what you wish for -as the shadows lengthen and the moon fades again,
    leaving the world dark and within eternal night.
  5. Mckk

    Mckk Moderator Staff Supporter Contributor

    Dec 30, 2010
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    Woodland Masks

    Today you pick up a new mask,
    The white one, with the gold-leaf smile.
    You leave the dark paper one behind,
    staring up from the darkness of your drawer
    on top of a pile of more flamboyant faces
    As you skip down the steps
    Bearing your mask
    To wander the woods.

    The woods have picked
    a mask as well.
    Murky blue and wind-blown kisses,
    Nothing too green, or too breezy;
    It's the most flattering
    in this moonlit night.

    You wander in,
    your foot
    cuts into the earth,
    marking the woodland skin.
    Your hands press
    against the bark,
    finger a fallen leaf
    and flit pass.

    The woods watch you,
    the trees close in,
    dancing in time with the music -
    the music of autumn winds.
    It stretches, drawing you in with its slopes,
    with a stray flower.
    Patiently the woodland waits
    until the party dwindles to a close
    and you spin
    and spin
    and cannot find your way.

    The murky blue mask slips off
    with the coming of dawn
    and you have dropped your mask-
    only no one knows you.

    No one knows you.
  6. Wolfwig

    Wolfwig New Member

    Aug 24, 2012
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    Farmington Valley, CT
    Rub of the Trees

    Wood-lost once:
    Where fairy folk help me not,
    I seek forgiveness
    but am forgotten -
    banished to surprising depths.

    Wood-lost twice:
    In dark dismay I languish
    and cry for mercy -
    “End my anguish or
    grant me gentle courtesy.”

    Wood-lost thrice:
    It stings severely and taunts
    my feeble talent,
    ever so gauntly
    stroked - bearing endless torment.
  7. tarnished

    tarnished Contributor Contributor

    May 16, 2008
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    Betwixt the evergreen branches and fallen leaves

    opens a woodland skylight, ascending endlessly

    peaking through the trees, her name is sunlight.

    She dabbles amongst the cherry trees,

    and tiptoes along the beaten paths,

    waving along the shadows, she is free.

    A midday autumn appearance,

    she has shone upon our faces.

    Maybe tomorrow, we'll see her again

    and dance among her graces.
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